What's up, Padlocked?*

Stayed up late last night to watch "Quantum of Solace" (I think that was the title), one of the latest James Bond films. I am powerless over films featuring Judi Dench, even in a small role, and I think Daniel Craig has that brooding business down pat. It was a satisfying mix of mayhem and macho, and I was glad for the respite from reality, or whatever is transpiring around here.

Things aren't quite as bleak as that last sentence suggests, really. Am getting ever so more accomplished as a sleeper (who knew that could ever be a challenge for yours truly?). Napping during the day and sleeping for great chunks of time with very brief interruptions during the night has become commonplace; so much better than the "High Alert" tossing and turning that characterized my first week or so after Linda's passing. That nagging feeling that I'm shirking my caregiver duties is almost gone, too, though of course I still need to keep on top of Shwea's very important feeding and walking schedule.

Am grateful, too, that I am taking care of the "must do" business that is before me. I had a very productive two-hour meeting with a member of my attorney's staff on Thursday to get started on wrapping up Linda's estate and finances; she was able to get the paperwork rolling for all of Linda's insurance and investment holdings in that relatively short span of time (it likely would have taken me days to do the same). She will also help me complete said paperwork, and recommended an accountant to help me figure out how best to proceed with the proceeds. Am pretty sure Linda would be glad I'm getting professional help with all of this; she knew all too well how math and I get along (which is about as well as she got along with the English language).

Also am working on getting the medical supply depot in the garage thinned out--already found a home for the hydraulic loo, I'm very happy to report. (Yes, I'm happy about finding a good home for a commode, people.) A member of my caregivers' group thought it might be just the thing for his missus, and he came by to pick it up yesterday. Here's hoping! As for the rest of my collection, a dear friend has offered to post it on Freecycle, once I get the inventory compiled. Also plan to clean out the fridge in the garage this weekend, so I can get started on finding that a new home as well. (Now that I'm not in the juicing "business" anymore, a second fridge doesn't make any sense.) I am also contemplating putting the mother of all juicers in our kitchen on Craigslist sometime soon, for that sucker takes up valuable real estate on our very small kitchen counter. Plus, it weighs on me a little to contemplate all the time and energy I (and our friends who learned to juice for Linda's sake) devoted to that contraption.

Otherwise, I am not doing anything with all of Linda's clothes and other effects in the house for now, except washing what has been hanging on hooks and laying about for these many months. When it seems like a good time to move on all of these things I will, but for now, it seems fine to let them be.

In the midst of all of this resting and wrapping up, I have been reading the wonderful cards and letters that have been landing in the mailbox each day. The hardest part of this duty has been not being able to show Linda the sweet and hilarious things that her friends and coworkers have written about her; still, I have to believe that she knows, somehow.

I've also begun getting out a bit; Tuesday night I went to my usual 12-step meeting, and last night I had dinner at a friend's house, that featured good conversation and two marvelous pooches. Tonight, I'm heading to my friend Jennifer's comedy show, Girls! Girls! Girls! (8 p.m. at PACE, if you're interested), and looking forward to being a member of the audience, soaking in the hilarity that is certain to ensue.

Well, I need to tackle my chores for the day, including feeding the Bombshell, so close I should. Hope you're all enjoying your weekend! With love, Ann and the Blond Foodhound

* If you spellcheck Podolske, this is what is suggested.

Making progress...

I am feeling pretty good about the fact that I (1) had a nap yesterday and (2) was still able to sleep (almost) through the night. After over 10 days of waking up feeling mostly like something Shwea deposits in the backyard, I felt almost/nearly/sort of rested this morning. (Yes, my expectations for myself are what one could call modest--world dominion can wait.)

Anyway, today I am preparing for tomorrow's meeting with someone at my attorney's office, to get the ball rolling on settling Linda's estate. She cautioned me that such things can take a year, which is fine with me--I have promised myself to not make any major decisions for at least 12 months, so we're all copacetic. Am also beginning to write out "Thank yous" for flowers and donations and what-all. This could take a while, for people have been very, very generous where my gal is concerned.

Did figure out when I think I'll be up for returning to work--Monday, Sept. 28. As long as the short-term disability (STD) application goes through. Though I'd probably take the time even if it weren't paid for, as Big Company is overwhelming on a good day, and I am not in the "good day" frame of mind quite yet.

Speaking of STD, I was taken aback by the diagnosis my dear doctor has given yours truly's predicament for the benefit of the insurance company: "Acute situational depression/grief." I guess "recent widow" just isn't descriptive enough, eh?

Yesterday, I decided to face facts and had the lawn service guys weed the entire yard. Contemplating the bumper weed crop in our yard made me tired, so I just said "Off with their heads!" Linda was the avid gardener in the family, which I attribute to her being a city girl for much of her life. Me, I grew up in an agricultural mecca, so perhaps I think it's all too much like the labor of my ancestors. Whatever, I am out of the farming business for the foreseeable, with one possible exception (see below), and am quite relieved about it.

Today, our friend and neighbor Dee is coming by to help me figure out what to do with the plants we were given in the past two weeks. Plant them? Keep them watered until they yell "Uncle!"? I know so little about such things, I thought I should call in an expert, and he is it. Well, I feel another nap coming on (you may too, pardon me), so close I should. All good, Ann

Closing up my caregiver shop

I've been away from this site for a while, largely because I was spending what spare time I had for Internet nonsense posting on CaringBridge. If you're not familiar with the site, consider yourself fortunate--it's a site dedicated to people challenged with serious illness. It's a one-stop shop for people who want to keep concerned friends and family updated on their (or a family member's) treatment's progress (or lack thereof). It was a goddess-send, for it allowed me to keep everybody in the proverbial loop re my gal Linda, without having to make countless phone calls or e-mails, retelling the same tale over and over again.

Well, as you may already know, Linda was gathered to God (my favorite way of putting this) on Friday, Sept. 4. She left in peace, which was a miracle, considering how long she resisted the reality of her situation. From her diagnosis in April of 2008 to about a week before her death, she was planning on getting well. But after a frightening fall, she finally accepted her prognosis, and then devoted her remaining time and energy to preparing for what's next. She succeeded brilliantly, from what I could see, and left this earth as ready as anyone could be, leaving love and forgiveness in her wake.

What a gift Linda was, contrary underwear and all.

So now, I'm working on recovering from my months as a caregiver and trying to wrap up Linda's affairs as best I can. I won't be back at work for a couple more weeks, and that's just fine by me (and them, too, most likely). My life is changing at a rapid rate, and I have no idea what my "new normal" will be, and probably won't for a good while.

But I will try to record what develops here, as best I am able. We shall see, eh?

Cosmic Setup #2,457

A couple of weeks ago, I was listening to NPR and heard a beautiful clarinet solo that reminded me of a piece by Mozart I played 3 million years ago (well, in the mid-70s) at a state musical contest of sorts. When I played the solo at state, I was accompanied on piano by the very prim and proper organist at my mother's church, Mary Jane Malmstadt, who I think told me she went to high school with Liberace. My first brush with fame (sort of)! And we won a gold medal, so it was a success on all fronts.

Why I entered that bit of trivia, I cannot say (but the thought of sedate Mary Jane in class with "flamboyant" Liberace always amused me). Let's sum up by stating that the solo on NPR started a whole lot of wheels turning in my head, and before I knew it, I was looking at my old clarinet. It was not pretty. It has a patched-up crack, the metal is green with age, the keys are all tarnished, and the pads are shot. But, in need of a good distraction, I decided to pursue someone who could decide whether it was fit to recondition, or whether I should just find a nice kazoo and hang my clarinet up for good.

Well, after looking at a number of sites that seemed geared to concert soloists (not someone thinking about reliving her glory days as a band geek), I found a site that seemed more my speed--and it was on Long Island (homeland of my Linda), which recommended it, too.

I e-mailed the repair guy, he called me back, we discussed the clarinet and costs and all sounded good, so over the weekend I put my old constant companion in the hands of the UPS. Today, the repair guy called me, and while he needs to inspect the crack a little more thoroughly before he can say for certain, he thinks the clarinet can be made to play well again. Wooeee!

And then he proceeded to offer me the complete recondition of my clarinet in exchange for the mouthpiece. While I know my clarinet is just okay, I also knew the mouthpiece on my horn was quite good--but I didn't know it was that good. And, as the repair guy explained to me, since the man who made the mouthpiece is no longer among the living, his work is also quite coveted by clarinet players who know about such things. Well, to wrap up (or die trying), the repair guy is also a clarinetist, and he has been looking for just this mouthpiece for a long, long time. So, he's going to recondition my clarinet for my mouthpiece--and he'll throw in a good-quality mouthpiece (worth about $150) so I can still make music on the dear thing.

Isn't that something? Now, if you're like Linda, you're wondering if I should have kept the mouthpiece and put it on Concert Clarinetist eBay or something. Well, that sounds like too much trouble to me--and besides, I did a little research on it, and if it was in perfect condition and never used, the mouthpiece would be worth $575. Since I played on it through high school and a little while after, I'm guessing it would be worth, say, about what it would cost to repair my clarinet.

So, I'm happy, the repair guy is happy, and I'll be torturing Shwea and Linda with clarinet sounds by the fall. Happy day!!!!!!!!!

Now 50 is young, eh?

One of the few gratifying bits of fallout from the untimely demise of Michael Jackson is that many say he died far too young. And as he is just a tad older than yours truly, that makes me feel better about things.

Yes, I know: "Way down deep you're very superficial, Ann Podolske" (yes, I appropriated that line from "Julia"--it's a keeper, isn't it?)

As for my feelings about Michael Jackson? Such a waste. A very talented man, certainly, but an unbridled mess as well. Too much money and not enough therapy was his tragedy. While his family likely set the dysfunctional stage for this poor soul, someone somewhere along the line should have said, "Listen, Michael. You don't need your own theme park, you don't need a hyperbolic (was that it?) chamber, and you sure as hell don't need a chimp as a best friend forever. You need therapy, honey--lots and lots of therapy. Don't spend another dime on anything else until you've been on the couch for a decade--and send those little boys home!"

But no, no one had this talk with him. Or maybe they did, and he chose to buy tons of crap and plastic surgery and keep his inner little boy stoked instead of working on himself. Maybe that was the best he could do.

How sad is that?

As for the other cultural icon who left the planet this week, I must admit I was not a Farrah Fawcett (SP?) fan. I liked the Kate Jackson angel best, as was required by lesbian law (and the show was on even before I knew I was a lesbian--how clueless could a gal be?). Of course, I saw her poster numerous times (I can almost see it hanging up in the Blakes' basement rec room, circa 1976), and thought she was cute, but that's about it. She was a big thing, and then she wasn't. At least she doesn't have the cloud of suspicion hanging over her that Michael Jackson has, and that counts for something, doesn't it?

Well, that's enough muttering for one day--maybe for one week, eh? Happy trails to you all, A

The end of an era.....

I'm plunk in the middle of my last week as a 40-something, and I think "disbelief" sums things up nicely. How in the hell did I get to be (almost) 50? I mean, I did everything I could to make sure this wouldn't happen in my teens and 20s (smoked, drank to excess, drove while drinking to excess, etc.).

Apparently am supposed to be here, if one believes such things.


Or perhaps Whomever Is in Charge got distracted at key points of my journey, and didn't hit the "EJECT" button when the opportunity--or let's be real, here--opportunities arose. True, I did get hit by a car in my mid-40s (stone-cold sober, as a matter of fact), but that just hurt--and it was damn embarrassing. How does one get herself hit by a car stone-cold sober, when one didn't get hit by a car while staggering around on streets and in traffic, umpteen sheets to the wind in countries where the traffic goes the "wrong" way?

Life is perplexingly unfair, this I know. My current circumstance perhaps most perplexing of all. If I had to describe myself, I'd say I am a caregiver who finds time to work and occasionally have some fun, but mostly I do my gal Linda's bidding. Not terribly successfully, alas. This has been going on for a while now, and while I know that all things come to an end, that does not really offer any comfort. I don't want "all things" to end, even if it means I have to schlep, juice, clean, call, coordinate, drive and what-have-you for my gal until I'm well into my 50s and beyond, exhausting as that premise may be.

A friend on Facebook tells me that her 50s were better than her 40s. This, I hope, is a masterpiece of understatement for yours truly, but only time will tell. And Time, she's a veritable Sphinx right now.

Am looking forward to my birthday, at least. I am having an official Day Off on my day, and will sleep in for the first time in months (February, I think). This constitutes a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Perhaps the key to having one's 50s be better than one's 40s is reduced expectations, eh? Just a thought....

Remiss, I've been remiss.....

Sorry, but this care giving business is a time hog of enormous proportions. Thanks to a blood transfusion, Linda is stronger than she's been in a while, but still I spend a lot of time making juices, meals, appointments and just being here to take notes during her sessions with doctors, nurses, physical therapists and so on.

Barely have time to see my therapist, and that's just wrong!

People occasionally ask when my next comedy show is, and right now, it's never. That's not due to any sacrifice on my part; I haven't been asked, and I sure as [fill-in-the-blank] haven't had time to pursue any new gigs. The Comedy, she can wait.

Patiently, one hopes.

Watched a few episodes of the "Big Gay Comedy Show!" (I think that's the name) last night, and laughed quite a bit. Some of the skits were hilarious, but some were just mean, and I just don't understand the role of mean in comedy. I think mockery needs to be reserved for oneself and one's demographic--making fun of anyone else, especially someone older, fatter, less attractive, and so forth, isn't comedy. Bullying, maybe, supreme snarkiness, but not comedy.

But since mockery of others figured large in about half of the skits, I'm guessing mocking = comedy for at least half of the planet. Maybe more.

But Julie Goldman, who I had the pleasure of performing with almost two years ago (I think) in Boston, was fabulous in every skit. Born to do sketch comedy, that one.

Now, I think it's nap time. Weekends have their perks!

The Patch-a-thon, phase VI

Yesterday, I tried out a new dentist, for my dear ol' reliable dentist is en route to retirement, and has foisted me off on the sweet young "partners" he's brought on board for that purpose.

Not sure that's working for me.

Anyway, I also wanted a dentist who wasn't into mercury fillings, for I've been hearing about how bad they are for one for a while now, but will spare you the details. (This from a gal who watched mercury skitter across her 6th-grade classroom floor with unfettered glee, thanks to a clumsy classmate and a thermometer, but I digress.)

So, I went to a "biological" dentist up in Greenfield. Entered a nice waiting room that was blaring The River (heard Kelsey Flynn as I walked into the office, which I took as a good sign). Picture of the dentist and his dog on the wall (another good sign). There were many delays seeing said dentist (not so good sign), but the staff said this was very unusual, but they had a lot of emergencies. In fact, they said that it felt like a full moon day, for they get a lot more emergency patients on full moon days than any other. (I thought ERs just had that issue, but aparently not.)

But I got to watch a lot of birds and a number of enterprising squirrels at a feeder while I waited, so I was okay. They even gave me a birdwatcher's guide to while away the time. Nice.

Then the dentist came along, and he had a soul patch. That is not something one expects in a dentist, but there it was. Odd. He also referred to Linda as my "friend," even though I referred to her as my partner and my spouse. Slightly irritating. (Not so good sign.)

But he thinks I may have a cavity under a filling and he can fix that, and he had some interesting ideas re Linda's treatment, so I'll be back.

The jury's still out, but let's give them a chance, shall we? And I always like a nice drive up to Greenfield. Almost lived there, but that's a story for another day. Now I must go juice....

If one must fall off the wagon.....

No, I didn't fall off that wagon, but I did fall off the highly restricted food plan I've been on thanks to Linda's latest treatment. It is a vegetarian diet with little variety--and no berries! (Very, very hard to walk by strawberries, which have begun showing up in the store.)

Anyway, the only bread is a salt-free rye bread, which has a sourdough base. It's nutritious. It's no-nonsense. It's something I imagine a Russian army or two would have marched 1,000 miles on. It's just not tasty.

So today, after taking care of three errands in one fell swoop (mailing our taxes, depositing our checks and making copies for Linda), I thought I could use a treat. Thought about the Cup and Top in downtown Florence (where I ran all errands in record time), but the line was ridiculous. So I hopped in the car and drove up to Bread Euphoria, where I not only scored a delicious cinnamon bun, I was hugged by a baker (friend Sarah, to be more specific) and met the partner of another gal named Sarah who I have known casually for about as long as I have lived up here.

Delightful!

Didn't tell Linda about the treat, for I don't think it's fair. Sarah (the baker) said my secret is safe with her, so I'm counting on your discretion (she hasn't read this blog in eons).

Anyway, the only other news is that our pipes sprang another leak. (The first being while we were in Mexico. Lovely, that.) Our regular plumber didn't have an emergency number, so I ended up calling Mr. Rooter.

That worked, actually! (Sure it cost a lot more than our regular plumber, but now I don't have to listen to the drip, drip, drip in the bucket. Worth a lot, that.)

How was last night's show?

It wasn't. Let's just say I am paying the price for staying up past my bedtime--and I didn't even perform. Why? Because I asked not to. Wonder why I would do such an anti-"The Show Must Go On" kind of thing? I direct you to my MySpace page for the details (link to your right).

But the night had its compensations. I got the full 15-minute tour of Jennifer and Scott's home before the show, along with running commentary as to the dubious parentage of the previous owners. Also held hands with Scott and Jennifer for a while, which was odd yet sweet. Never just sat holding hands with friends before for no apparent reason (my hands were held a' plenty when Linda was in surgery, believe me). Just seemed the thing to do.

And yes, this is likely as close to being a "Cougar" as I'll ever be. As if. Wonder if there's a lesbian equivalent? Nothing remotely amusing is coming to me. I'll work on it....

Anyway, today we had a whole-house water filtration system installed, as well as a reverse-osmosis spigot put into the kitchen. All of this wonderful water will be good for our Linda, and for me, actually (no more chlorine drying out my already Saharan skin, for one thing).

Now I must return to my tax prep. Yes, this is getting ridiculous. Am hoping to put an end to it this weekend. Here's hoping!

And here's hoping you're having a much more exciting weekend than I. Though on days such as these, when I'm just dragging my tired carcass around, I'm rather grateful for the absolute lack of excitement on today's menu.

Tomorrow? That'll be another story.

Catching up

Had a great show Thursday night at the Log Cabin. It was a fundraiser for a home for aged horses (what's not to like?) put together by a women's business owners organization. Yes, indeed, their were lesbians galore in career separates ((c) by Jennifer Myszkowski), as well as some dear friends (most from church), also of the lavender persuasion. Those women (and a smattering of men) were there to laugh, bless their hearts, and laugh they did. What fun!

Today, I had the flashback-inducing experience of buying fabric. I haven't set foot in a fabric store since I bought material in the early 1970s for bib overalls--our home ec project that year. I think I bought a red, white and blue striped cotton-poly mix. My goddess, those pants were hideous, but it was the '70s, ya know? Hideous was "in."

Yes, indeed, I was in home ec--they didn't let girls take shop back in those benighted times, and honestly, I probably would have been a train wreck at that, too. (I jammed all the sewing machines in our classroom, to give you an idea of my sewing prowess.)

Anyway, I told the clerk about how long it's been since I've bought fabric, and she found that hilarious. She was very helpful and smiling the whole time she helped me find the material I needed (100% white cotton flannel) and so forth. Her coworker found my predicament funny, too. So nice to bring joy along on what could have been a tedious errand, no?

Why am I buying 100% white cotton flannel? It is a key player in the clay packs that Linda needs for pain management. She has been having pain in her abdomen, and slapping on one of these clay-laden packs makes her feel better. That's as good a reason as any, no?

Now I must stop procrastinating and get my taxes together. Problem is, I first need to update my checking account with the last six months (yes, of 2008) of bank statements.

Yes, I knew I was going to pay for letting that slide, and here it is, time to pay! Hope you're having more fun than I (wouldn't be difficult).

Isn't it romantic?

Have been reading the local San Diego paper while in Mexico, and came across this amusing song title under the heading, Top 5 Digital Songs: "My Life Would Suck Without You," by Kelly Clarkson.

And they say romance is dead.

What similarly underwhelming statements of appreciation could I concoct for my dear sweetie of 16 years? Reviewing recent events, the following come to mind:

"I Wouldn't Be 'Vacationing' in a Questionable Part of Mexico Without You"
Or: "My Knowledge of Enemas Would Be Nada Without You"

Need to noodle on this a bit more, perhaps.

On other fronts, I was also quite taken by another item in the paper featuring Bristol Pallin, Sarah Pallin's teenage daughter who also happens to be an unwed mother. While she asserts that teenagers should avoid having sex, she also admits that abstinence "is not realistic at all."

Thanks for clearing that up, Bristol!

Brattleboro and comedy on Feb. 27

I'm opening for Joe Wong two days after I return from Mexico at the Hooker-Durham Theatre and Gallery space in Brattleboro, VT. Learn more about the oh-so-reasonably priced show on Friday, Feb.27, by clicking here.

Not to worry, I will not have any "enema" material in my set. My experience "assisting" this procedure has been amusing, but not in a way I can easily convey. Besides, people are squeamish seeing the term in print; I can only imagine their reaction to hearing it on stage. Methinks I'd hear the crickets singing....

All I know is I am looking forward to this, for I have enjoyed amusing the folks at the clinic, but I want some stage time, and soon.

Look what I found!

In case this isn't legible, the website can be found here.

That's not all, people! I have a show in Brattleboro just when I get back (on Friday, Feb. 27), and will endeavor to find something similar for that (Joe Wong is the headliner; this much I know).

South of the border....

Am keeping myself amused while in not-so-sunny Mexico (a very large rain storm is upon us) by roaming the streets of the Internet. Am enjoying the fact that a lot of the pages I'm used to viewing (Google, for one major example) are in Spanish. A nice change, that, though it took me a while to figure out which word/phrase meant "sign in" for this blog (Acceder, I think).

Checked our home voicemail yesterday, and received a very amusing message from my Aunt Libby, a grand gal who is the last living member of my mother's generation of family. As such, she is well versed with the saga of the Republican branch discussed below, and learned from my sister about the comic coincedence at the Comedy Studio the other night. (My performing on the same stage as the daughter of my cousin, the GOP congressman, to be specific.)

"That's a kick," she said. "I didn't know anybody in that family had any humor."

Ouch. That's about as direct as my people get--and Libby has been known to vote Republican, so that's not her politics talking.

May explain why our families "lost touch" years ago, eh?

Show tonight!

Yes, tonight around 8:00 I have a 15-minute set at Alexander's Restaurant in Feeding Hills (Agawam?), MA. More info on my MySpace page (link to the right).

OVERDONE ALERT: As of yesterday, I have a Facebook page, too, for apparently I need to have more websites than Heinz has pickles....

The good news is that Facebook is not as youth-oriented as I had feared, especially as during registration it asked a lot of questions about where and went I went to school (including high school, as if that matters a whit). But once I put my site together, a veritable deluge of face cream ads appeared, and realized Facebook isn't for kids anymore.

On other fronts, an amusing thing happened at the Comedy Studio Thursday night. I had a good set, which of course, was amusing in its own way, but that's not the "thing." Another comic on the docket that night was a young woman, also from Wisconsin, who also made a good show. Since much commentary was made about the large Midwestern contingent that night, we chatted afterwards. I remembered her first name, but not her last, until I got home that night, and looked at the night's lineup. Funny, her last name was the same as that of my cousin the Republican congressman, who I discussed here (he keeps me from being the black sheep of the family, bless his heart). Turns out she is the daughter of that congressman, and while I e-mailed her to share my discovery, she hasn't e-mailed back.

Am guessing she hasn't responded because my branch of the family was not exactly looked upon favorably by her branch--while the congressman is a bit of an embarrassment to my liberal democratic family, our liberal, democratic ways likely made the congressman and his clan flinch.

She might not have even known about our family. Hope I didn't open a can o' familial worms. Or maybe I do--secrets are rarely a good idea.

Or maybe she just doesn't want to contemplate having a big, old dykesauras as a relative. One can see where that could be problematic, eh?

Oh well, it is amusing--and a little weird--to contemplate. It also suggests there may be some sort of standup comedy gene.

Oddness!

Comedy calendar update....

Sorry to send you packing, but I added as much information as I could gather on upcoming shows and plunked it on my MySpace page. (See links at right.)

If you're interested, that is. No pressure. This is Ann Podolske we're talking about, after all....

Ode to my bro'

Couldn't find a card that had just the right message for my brother's pending (1/30) birthday, so came up with this ditty:

Happy birthday to you

Brother's now sixty-two

There's still hope for you, Lew

But for what, haven't a clue

Not to worry, we are of the teasing = love school of affection. Linda approved, too, so I'm golden. Just hoping this and a bag full of mystery novels for his upcoming beach vacation with sister-in-law Donna will do the trick.

On other fronts, I learned that the Alexander's show is open to the public. The show is Saturday (1/31) night at 9 at Alexander’s Restaurant, 60 N. Westfield St, Feeding Hills, MA 01030-1606. Phone: 413-786- 1127 for more information from the venue.

Comedy coming up!

I am going to be at The Comedy Studio this Thursday night, which is great, for my friend Jennifer has been the Studio's Comic In Residence (CIR + BFD, truly) this entire month, and I was hoping to see her at least once during her run.

Saturday night, I'm doing a short set at Alexander's Restaurant in Agawam (Feeding Hills, to be specific). Am not sure of the particulars of this show--is it a private party or is anyone welcome--but when I do find out, I'll let you know.

Alas, it's time to feed the dog, so close I must. More to come!

More comedy on the docket

Hail and hello! It appears I've taken a long winter's nap, and am just getting up.

If only.

The good news is I have two shows coming up, but need more details before I can post anything. One is on Jan. 31 and is in Agawam (I think); the other is in March sometime and will be at the Log Cabin in Holyoke. That show is a all-woman comedy fundraiser, which bodes well.

Am also working on our friend Rick J of Comedy Studio fame for some spots, but he's playing hard to get. Well, when the fates smile upon me, I shall return. If they don't, I will survive (and yes, I'm hearing a disco anthem in my noggin' as I type this).

Otherwise, life is going along. Linda is feeling a little better after Tuesday's chemo, we will soon be bidding Pres. Bush a grateful farewell, I have today and tomorrow off, and it's not snowing. In fact, the driveway and walk are shoveled (when I have the time I do try to avoid using the snowthrow--one of my "green" attempts that sound good in theory, but my back is very unhappy with me for putting it into practice).

Am striving to be as optimistic as possible about our prospects in the coming year, both personally and politically. It's a challenge, but I have to believe hope can pay dividends. That said, I do have one big quibble about the political side of that quest. I think that Sen. Obama talks a good game about equality and justice, but if he believed it, why would he have that "gays are perverts" pastor on the docket for tomorrow? And why did he have that "ex-gay" pastor on the campaign trail in the South?

Why oh why, Obama?

Perhaps this is why I can't seem to put my "Hillary '08" hat away?

Oh well, we'll give the pup a chance (I say this, for he is younger than I am--what a terrible milestone! I am now at the age where I am older than the president!!!).

NICE show!

Saturday night at the Studio was the usual joy--there was a great crowd that was there to laugh (other nights it can seem they're there to critique), and that helped inspire a really good set. Kudos from other comics and a few dear members of the audience capped my night--while I drove there and back alone, I felt grand. It was good to be back at Rick's place!

Did mostly material on gay marriage, as I missed a protest on Saturday in my home town on the subject and felt a wee bit guilty. I took a nap instead of protesting, as I was going to be up WAY past my bedtime, and needed to be "fresh" (or as fresh as I get). This gal knows her limits. Linda, bless her heart, went and toted a sign based on a portion of one of my jokes.

Used to do disco naps; now I do comedy naps. What strange forms progress takes, uh?

What a relief!

The show went well, I'm happy to report, even though there were several signs that could have spelled Trouble for yours truly.

It was a room of working folks in a clubhouse setting. That night was a fundraiser for the club, featuring a roast beef dinner and comedy for $12. Yes--$12. But with a cash bar (yes, we see the wisdom of the pricing scheme now, don't we?).

They got an earful of lesbian- and gay-themed jokes from yours truly, and from the report offered by my friends and sweetie, they enjoyed them. Thoroughly. True, people got a little restless during my jokes on the alcoholism front, but considering many had what Rich Gustus called "bowling alleys" of beer bottles in front of them, I am not surprised.

Oh, and the mic died on me at one point.

But otherwise, a lovely night was had by all. I was comfortable up on stage (even when the mic went out--odd), and was happy to listen to Rich and Bill Campbell after my set. It was great to laugh, and our lone little lesbian table had themselves a hoot.

It's good to be back in the laugh business.

Dipping a toe into the comic water...

Tomorrow night I am opening for a comedy night in a town near Palmer I have never heard of--Bondsville. It will be my first set in a while, and I am looking forward to it, even if I've been so busy with work and what-all (yes, that includes Linda) I haven't had the time to really think about it. Much.

My biggest hurdle will be finding the place, then it will be a piece o' cake.

That's my story.....

Haven't logged in since the election, and I am soooooo happy that the country was ready for an African American president after all.

And the dear people of Massachusetts were wise enough to say "No" to a crazy tax cut, and say "Yes" to reduced penalties for pot and the end of mistreating dogs for entertainment purposes.

The only election-day downer was that a lot of anti-gay ballot "initiatives" were passed.

So, most Americans are cool with people of color, pot and puppies.

But not the likes of me.

Democracy ain't for sissies, apparently.

If memory serves, the puppies didn't do so well their first time on the ballot, either. So if we're following the footsteps of puppies, how bad could things be?

And maybe with enough pot, the homophobes of the world will relax....

Embracing simplicity or dumbing down?

Ah, Corporate America. I just came home from a day-long meeting to find that I have run afoul of a language policy. Little ol' me, Ann Podolske, daughter of an English teacher, Midwestern to the marrow and rule-follower to the nth degree, has crossed a line.

A simple line.

We are supposed to keep our communications simple, and that is a wonderful aim. A lot of what used to be distributed in the name of communication at Big Company was as engaging as a last will and testament. Of the stodgy, old school, our-verbal-density-is-the-sign-we-mean-business school of writing. Not engaging in the least.

So we all need to strive to avoid stodginess. Verbal diarrhea. Denser-than-lead sentences.

Got it! Endorse it!! You're signing my song!!!

But how simple is simple? Well, that's today's question, because I used the phrase "veritable cornucopia" to describe a newsletter, and that phrase was decreed not simple enough.

Am guessing the word "veritable" was the culprit, but who knows? I've had the word "cornucopia" drilled into my brain since childhood, as it features heavily in every story of the first Thanksgiving I've ever heard. But maybe people don't hear about cornucopias any more.

Is that it?

Harrumph.

I'm guessing I should have said, "There's a lot of good stuff in the newsletter." Or maybe: "Lots inside!"

But I'm not writing copy for Wal-Mart, I'm writing for professionals in a major corporation.

Professionals who can't grasp words like "veritable" and "cornucopia," in the opinion of one reviewer. I thought they could handle it.

Who's right? Well, they are, I guess. They changed the sentence, and I should report here what they changed it to, but I can't. Right. Now.

Am trying to think happy, positive thoughts, remember? ("The Secret" tells me so.)

So let me get this out: ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

Now I feel better.

Time to get back to (The Comedy) business

Things still are a bit up in the air at home (check out our CaringBridge site for details), but I've decided it's time to act "as if" life is returning to normal, even if we're not there. Yet.

Not that "normal" is what we're really aiming for, if you know what I mean.

Since I last posted here (in July!), I've become a married lady. Well, married lesbian. (My mother was a lady--me, I'm a woman who is called "Sir" on a regular basis.) Swept up in the romance of Linda's impending surgery, we decided to get hitched because many of our lesbian friends said it would make a big difference to the hospital staff if we were.

Yes, it was mostly a practical move. What do you expect from two women who have been together over 15 years, eh?

And while this is almost as embarrassing as admitting I own a Tony Little Gazelle, I also have been trying to adopt the practices suggested in "The Secret."

(Judge me at your peril, people. 8-)

No, we're not yet awash in health (focus #1) or wealth (#2), but we're doing really great on the love front. And my carcass is far less creaky, as I continue to tell myself that it's as perfect and flexible as a child's.

The only downside of this business is that after a nine-month absence, my period has come back to visit. Need to revise that mental focus a bit, perhaps. Maybe I should focus on having a body that's a perfect and flexible as a child's--with 49-year-old ovaries.

We shall see.

A full head o' teeth!

Yes, I blog after not blogging for ages, and I'm talking teeth. TEETH!

At 10:30 this morning my implant landed, and I can now plan on chewing on both sides of my mouth. I say "plan" for one must gently introduce said implant to the idea, over the next two weeks. (It's been over a year since that space had to do anything, after all.)

Isn't that fabulous?

(If that sounds pathetic, you must be under 40. File this away for later reference. Trust me, it won't sound quite so pathetic later on.)

We also have a bright yellow living room, for my Linda is following the suggestions of our feng shui consultant, and so our subtle green living room had to go. The problem? Green = growth, which is not a good idea when cancer is around, naturally.

Otherwise, there's not much new to report, but this [fill-in-your-favorite-expletive] implant has been vexing me for over a year (maybe two!), so this qualifies as good news.

And in case you missed it, we've been needing some good news around here.

Which reminds me: My bum knee also got the green light. I can exercise now. Woop-dee-do!

(That was a little bit of overkill, because while I appreciate being able to exercise, I really love the idea of being able to chew. It's all about priorities, people.)

One last exciting bit: Our friend Jennifer was on the cover of today's Daily Hampshire Gazette! Above the fold!!

Congratulations, Jennifer!

The Studio on a Saturday rarely disappoints....

And Saturday's show was no exception. My set went well, even though I had the ignoble task of being the first comic on the roster (after Rick opened, Jennifer was quick to point out). I took a bullet for the team, but it didn't hurt--the set worked, and that's all that matters. The best part of being first is that once my work was done, I was able to relax and enjoy the rest of the show--for before I got up on stage, I was a wreck nervosa. But according to at least one comic, it didn't show (thanks, Sandy).

As for highlights, Jennifer unleashed a callback that was just perfection.

On the other side of the spectrum, there was a comic who appeared to want to make a mockery of right-wing bigoted nut jobs, but instead just said a lot of things that were too mean-spirited to be funny. People were uncomfortable, yet the comic soldiered on--or was that what he wanted? (Me, I need a little warmer response than that to keep going.) It was an attempt at parody that failed, and only made me appreciate how difficult this comedy business can be. (It also made me grateful that I don't go in for characters and the like--my innate character will have to do.)

Well, that's it for shows for the foreseeable. I'll let you know when and if something else comes up, but I have a feeling it won't be until the fall. Stay tuned....

Girls! Girls! Girls! review

This was a very happy-making show for yours truly, in part because a great deal of people came out to see The Comedy on my behalf (21 peeps, per one friend) and in part because some new, Linda- and illness-related material worked (whew!). Was also very happy to perform with a very talented group of women--including Andrea Henry, who gave me an update on her baby Eve.

As performance nights go, they don't get much better than this. Good to know I can make the people laugh despite all the very un-funny business swirling around me.

My one remaining show for the foreseeable is on May 31 in Cambridge, and I likely won't be trying to get anything new going until the fall, when my gal is out of the woods.

Friendship redefined

I'm sorry if you've already seen this, but I had to share it here (it's also on the CaringBridge site--pardon any repeats). A friend of Linda's sent her a framed version of the following:

Friendship

Friendship is like pissing in your pants,
Everyone can see it,
But only you can feel its true warmth.
Thank you for being the piss in my pants.

Of course, "You are the wind beneath my wings" comes instantly to mind....

Pardon my vanishing act

This blog has been getting the fuzzy end of the lollipop, for I have been devoting my spare time to updating another blog--a CaringBridge site I developed for my gal Linda's large and far-flung group of friends and coworkers.

As you may have guessed, Linda's surgery on April 1 didn't go quite as well as we had hoped. She's starting chemotherapy next week, and until we get through to the other side of this particular journey, I probably won't be blogging much.

Well, except to vent about things that have no business on Linda's site. (Like my wish for a particularly hot place in Hades for those who design trojan viruses--not very nice of me, but really not very nice of them, either. So there.)

The benefit of benefits....

Had a good show at the Bluebonnet Diner last night, even if I didn't manage to have any pie. (I keep forgetting that one of the Bluebonnet's major claims to fame is pie. How can one forget such an important fact? HOW?)

Anyway, the show featured students of our own professor of comedy, Jerry Caruso, including yours truly and a fellow alumna, Holly Givens (she has some wonderful new material on her wedding, which is great, since I missed it--and now feel a little caught up).

Anyway, two students of a very recent class performed and did well for their first time in front of a "real" audience--I mean they spoke, formed sentences, and had punchlines. That impresses the heck outta me. And one gal who had dropped from the scene for a while came back--and I was very glad to see and hear her material. She's got the quirky market cornered, indeed.

One newbie even interacted with the audience. I haven't had the nerve to do that yet (five years since graduation--or is it four?).

Best of all, around $750 was raised for the Cancer Connection, which is a very good cause. If one if going to have a bizarre avocation, it's great to have a bizarre avocation that can occasionally make money for good causes, no?

Was quite surprised and charmed to see some friends show up--and they offered some tremendous support re my gal Linda and her upcoming surgery. Well, offered up may not be the correct term--I asked them outright to think about Linda on the 1st, and they kindly complied.

In fact, I have been asking people all over to support her in any way they can, and have been offered thoughts, prayers, meditations and well wishes.

Hey--if it's positive, we'll take it. Anything and everything, cheerfully accepted! If it all helps Linda's surgery and recovery go well, then it's all been worth overriding my natural Midwestern inclination to not ask for help. (As it's not help for me, personally, it's a little easier--a flimsy loophole, but a loophole nonetheless.)

We're even dragging a Higher Authority into the mix, when this Sunday we become members of the Haydenville Congregational Church. Considering the prevailing views toward the likes of me and Linda in places of worship, joining a church was something I never thought I'd do. I thought I'd be spending the rest of my life in church basements, thank you, only darkening the door of sanctuaries for weddings and funerals.

So much for that.

Of course, I could just be becoming my mother, as women are wont to do. (She was an industrial-strength church lady, to put it mildly.)

If I find myself wanting to play bridge or join a Great Books club or even The Women's International League of Peace and Freedom, then I'll know I'm really on the road to Becoming Elaine....

Hey, if I've learned anything so far, it's this: You never know.

Update

Well, the delivery guy just called. From Westfield.

At 6:05 p.m.. The delivery window was 9 a.m to 1 p.m.

Nice.

(Sole, not soul.)

Well, so much for that

Today, a brand-new elliptical machine was supposed to be delivered to my door--well, down into my basement, actually (I paid $100 for that privilege--those suckers are heavy).

I had the basement all cleared out, my rowing machine and TONY LITTLE GAZELLE (snigger) well out of the way, the mat down for the machine to rest upon and so forth, but the delivery folks never showed.

Called the number for the delivery service, and got an answering machine. So, I'm wondering, did they have Good Friday off, too, but neglected to tell me?

Since I had wasted four hours of my holiday waiting for this thing, I decided I didn't want it after all. Doesn't seem right to reward that sort of behavior, in my book. Especially for a (for me) big-ticket item. I can take--no, expect--a lot of crap service when I'm buying stuff at the 7-11 or the like, but when the price is on the other side of $1K, my expectations go up, if only a little.

And boy, did they not deliver--literally or figuratively.

So, I will not be getting an elliptical any time soon. Even though that means I still have to use my GAZELLE (snort!) for the foreseeable.

So I cancelled the order. And get this--I get to pay a restocking fee, even though it was never delivered.

Isn't that something?

The company, in case you're wondering, is Sole. (Not to be confused with soul, naturally.)

On other fronts, I've had to cancel my appearances (such as they are) at the Studio next week and in April. My gal is having surgery on April 1, and so close to home I will stay.

And really--with times like these, I think The Comedy and I are barely speaking to each other.

But this will all blow over....eventually.

And until it does, I'm guessing my funniest joke is in the basement. On the mat that was to support my fancy new machine.

Oh well.....

True confessions

While I am still perplexed by the hubbub over my ownership of a Tony Little Gazelle, there has been an upside to this misadventure in home gym equipment.

True confessions of an exercise sort.

Two people who felt the need to tease me ever so gently about owning a Gazelle have also told me about every embarrassing exercise video/DVD they have in their possession (or even once owned).

It is reminiscent of my early sobriety, when hearing a particularly gruesome tale of debauchery and destruction from another recovering drunk would somehow free me to share a smaller tale of my own variety of in-the-bag misbehavior. Not as bad as what I've just heard, of course--but to me, every bit as mortifying to admit.

Which, apparently, is how a lot of women feel about owning Richard Simmons' exercise videos.

Resignation with a dash of hope

My friend Ed and I were discussing one of the latest dust-ups in the Democratic contest (Sen. Obama's former preacher ripping Hillary for not being a black man) and we both found Obama's response to same calculating in the extreme.

Yet if that's what it comes down to, we'll both vote for the man, for he offers a least the potential for change (while we both also harbor hopes that our gal Hillary will somehow win the day). I think my dear friend sums it up best:

I really do believe that this was (is) Hillary's time. It's easy for me to imagine 8 years of Hillary and then 8 years of Obama. I can't see the reverse happening. And now we might get a President McCain instead. Goddess save us!

A girl can indeed dream and so can a big homo from Palm Springs.

Bellows Falls--who knew?

Performed in a very small comedy benefit in Bellows Falls, VT Saturday night--the weather was less than ideal, and apparently all the local papers dropped the ball where listings were concerned--but still, enough people came to make a show.

The show? Just okay--the audience was small, and likely stupefied by the incredible Italian meals they just ate at the venue, Boccelli's on the Canal. Those gals do not fool around--every serving I saw was enough for three people, and it all looked beautifully prepared, too. I just had a cannoli, and it was better than any cannoli I've ever had (and hey, not for nothin', I was in NYC's Little Italy not that long ago).

They also have a nice little gourmet foods section, and the location--near a canal, naturally--is very picturesque. Once all is well on the home front, Linda and I have to make the drive up there and give Bellows Falls--and Boccelli's--a thorough look-see. The town has a tremendous case of the quaints, let me tell you!

This was supposed to be a show review, but has devolved into a restaurant review. Guess that says more about the show than anything I could have written, eh?

On other fronts, allow me to tell the world that doesn't already know this (thanks, Jennifer): I own a Tony Little Gazelle. This, apparently, is a hilarity-inducing statement, and one I hope brings you moments of glee (or smug superiority or whatever it is one gets from this knowledge).

I doubt it makes a whit of difference, but I have ordered a proper elliptical machine to replace said Gazelle, for, as you can imagine, I needed something more substantial for my aging carcass.

But please--do let the merriment continue!

Memories--still got 'em, thank Whomever!

Reading Jennifer's posts about her Alzheimer's-ridden grandmother recalls many occasions with my dementia-ridden father almost 10 years ago.

Dad was always "losing" his car, for one thing--lucky for him, he never carried a purse like Jennifer's grandma. One time when we were all visiting my brother and sister-in-law in D.C., Dad got up more than once to go outside--to look for his car. My dear brother brought him in each time, and each time he explained that he and mom didn't have their car because they flew in from Wisconsin. Dad looked at him like he was full of the bunk, but sat down.

Until some time passed. Then, he'd get back up and head outside to look for his car again.

He also had dementia where food was concerned. When he was still living at home, I remember coming in one afternoon to find him sitting with a pile--no, make that a mountain--of empty ice cream sandwich wrappers in front of him. When I asked him about the summit, he denied eating the sandwiches in all those wrappers--but did admit that ice cream sounded good, so he got up and got another sandwich to add to the pile.

These are the times that make me hope that his dementia was caused by chemical exposures and not--you got it--genetics. Just in case, I've been waging a small-scale campaign to get Linda to agree to put me in a Lavender Ladies Home if I start going off the same deep end as Dear Old Dad.

She's having none of it. So far. But I bet if I asked her where my purse is 3,000 times, she might reconsider.

Especially as I haven't carried a purse since 1990.

File that under, "Okay"

Last night's set at The Studio was an odd affair, but okay. At first, I thought the audience was tentative; later, after I watched a few comics of the comics who followed me, it became clear: The crowd was drunk. In a near-stupor, actually.

Also noticed before the show that Zoe's diner was chock-a-block with students eating and drinking with relish. I only noticed because I'm a booth kinda gal, and there were none to be had--they were all packed with people in the college-age range.

Methinks some sort of hideous, gut-wrenching exam period must have taken place this week, and the surviving scholars were out celebrating.

That celebrating in college = destroying as many braincells as possible (after you've so carefully cultivated same) is one of life's little ironies.

Suffice to say, "celebrating" students are not exactly prime comedy audiences, but they weren't terrible. Just okay.

Let's leave it at that.

Speaking of leaving, I forgot my comedy notebook on the T. Jennifer assigned great comic significance to same, saying it indicated it was time for me to just put away my old material and start concentrating on the new.

Well, it could also indicate that I'm one preoccupied dykesaurus these days, and am lucky that my head is attached.

I would heartily enjoy focusing on the creation and refinement of new material, but I just don't think I have it in me these days. Jennifer thinks that being worried out of one's mind sets the stage for great comic creativity.

We shall see, eh?

In a spin....

We've had some rather challenging health news to contend with lately, so I've been a little behind in blogging, especially the "Show Reports" I promised to post here, if nothing else. Sorry about that!

As for the news, it's not really my news to share--particularly in such a public forum. Suffice to say The Comedy has not been in the forefront on my little, round noggin' these days.

But I'm still performing, not to worry (or do, as the case may be 8-). Have some time at The Studio tomorrow night, and a lovely little fundraiser in Vermont on Saturday.

As for my last show, the Saturday night edition of the "Taste of PACE," it went very well, if memory serves. Memory also tells me that my set paled in comparison to that of my dear Comedy Buddy, colleague, and friend, Jennifer Myszkowski, she who can turn weeping into hilarity. That is an art , people, and I am very, very grateful I was there to witness it. She practically did knock the people off their seats, indeed. A joy to behold, but to tell you the truth, it was a heck of an act to follow--happily there were quite a few acts between us.....

Taste of PACE: Aptly named!

I approached last night's show with some trepidation, for it had all the markings of a disaster: A very long and varied series of music and musical acts with one standup comic, yours truly, in the mix. Well, happily, my trepidation was for naught. I didn't exactly cause anyone to fall out of his/her chair (as promised by le roi de hyperbole over at PACE), but I didn't hear crickets the whole time, either. The audience was there for music, but they were open to some comedy, too, bless them.

Methinks the Spaulding Grey monologue may have helped, as did the fact that I followed a very funny rendition of "Suppertime!" by a dear woman in a Snoopy suit.

Hard to lose under these conditions, let me tell you.

Anyway, the rest of the night was very entertaining, and if you somehow read this in time, I would strongly suggest you consider making a trip over to PACE for tonight's show. I can't imagine a more varied and entertaining combination of acts are going on anywhere else in the Happy Valley this evening, and I'm not just saying this because I'm on the docket tonight (as is my dear comedy buddy, Jennifer Myszkowski).

One thing I'm looking forward to: Hearing "One hand, one heart" from West Side Story again. I am a sucker for that musical!

Somewhere in the middle....

Last night's Girls! Girls! Girls! was neither the best of times nor the least--a sorta middle-of-the-road, went-okay-kinda show, I'd have to say. The audience was there for the comedy, but they were a subdued lot. Especially for bits that usually get uproarious laughter--for Jennifer as well as yours truly.

Of course, I was not on the top of my game, being on the mend from a very unfunny cold/flu/who can tell? I forgot my way twice, which I should admit is typical (who am I kidding?). Also dropped from my memory banks two new bits that I thought might work, but I did remember enough of some other new bits (that largely worked, happily), that I don't feel too bad about it.

I'm particularly grateful that I didn't have a coughing jag, which I think indicates the sort of show it was. Didn't kill, and didn't really think that was in the cards, truly. Was grateful to get through my set without the whole room wanting to hand me a Hall's mentholyptus.'

(Yes, we keep our expectations on the low side, we do.)

And the high-ranking person from Big Company didn't show, but the dear pastor did, as did a number of her flock. Couldn't ask for more there, certainly.

So, that's how the latest in the Girls! x 3 franchise went for me. Jennifer, Arielle, Bethany and Erin did wonderfully, by the way--I was very happy to see them all (as was the audience, in their low-key way.)

If you feel as though you missed out, never fear: The next all-women show is on May 17, when I hope to be hale and hearty and in full recollection of all of my new material.

It's good to have goals, eh?

Comedy alert!

The next Girls! Girls! Girls! is tomorrow, Saturday, February 23, and you won't want to miss it.

Well, I'd rather you didn't, but if you can't make it, that's okay, too.

If what I've heard is true, the audience could have a member of the executive team from Big Company there, as well as the pastor of the church that Linda and I have been going to of late. An interesting mix, that.....

If you can't make this show, there's more on the horizon, not to worry. Go to the strange land that is MySpace for details.

Here's an idea!

Come to think, I did something along these lines with the last Bush "rebate"--I think I sent the ill-gotten gains to GLAD in Boston or some such GLBT-friendly cause.

If you're not feeling GLBT-friendly (what in the world are you doing here?!), there are oh-so-many other lefty causes who could use this cash.

Unless, of course, your cause could use the cash most of all (this I understand all too well).

Dear NCLR Supporter,

Want to do something really stimulating with your tax rebate check?
Want to undo the damage done by the policies of the Bush White House?
Want to do a small part to truly help make change in 2008?

Here’s a thought: sign that 2008 rebate check over to NCLR. We’ll make sure you see the real value in the stimulus package plan.

Now I know most of us actually need this money to take care of bills, debt, and daily necessities. But for those of you who might be considering putting it towards your daily latte intake or that fabulous outfit you saw in the Bloomingdale’s window, please think about fueling the fight for justice instead.

In this year of great peril and promise, your rebate check will go a long way towards further energizing NCLR’s always cutting-edge legal work. Not to mention, you get a tax deduction to boot.

As a token of our appreciation, we'll sign your name (with your approval, of course) to a card to President Bush and the House and Senate leaders, thanking them for thinking of us.

So, if this sounds like a good personal stimulus plan, just sign over your check and send to us with your name and address. You can count on us to take care of the rest—so you can rest easy.

Thank you, Kate Kendell, Esq.
Executive Director
National Center for Lesbian Rights

Silver lining of sorts

Last night's show in Chicopee was one of those stunningly bad shows that make the good shows that much sweeter. The comics performed in front of a video beanbag (I kid you not) game and an electronic trivia game. The sound system would be at home in the New York City subway.

The crowd directly in front of us was there for comedy, but the bar was to our left and full of loud people who were there to drink and what-all, and to the right was a serious poker game.

Not an ideal scenario, but I wasn't expecting anything less. (Thank you, Jennifer.)

The good news is that I saw some of my favorite comics/people, received some very encouraging feedback, and left there feeling pretty darn good about The Comedy and some people in it.

And not once did I think of drowning my sorrows in some high-octane butterfat. I didn't have sorrows to drown. Good thing--considering the strict diet* I'm on these days, that sort of thing would probably kill me.

* I'm supporting Linda in her need to avoid wheat, sugar, salt, dairy and most things that taste good. (At home, anyway.)

What's up with that, eh?

A dear friend of mine who lives out in California relayed a disturbing tale to me this week. Seems he was talking to an old friend of his about the Democratic candidates, and when he expressed his reservations about Sen. Obama, she became, in his word, "incensed," and refused to discuss it further.

He fears this may be a metaphor for the Democratic party.

This episode is unsettling on a number of fronts, but first and foremost is this: If you can't discuss your candidate with someone who is critical of him or her, you risk looking like someone who doesn't have much in the way of arguments as to why you support your guy or gal. Rather like the people who stick their fingers in their ears and say, "La-La-La I Can't Hear You!" when you're trying to tell them something they don't want to hear. It may spare their feelings, but it sure as heck is no way to defend a position.

If one wants to look like a thoughtful, reasonable adult, that is.

It also raises an issue I've been wondering about this week as well, about Obama's candidacy being a cult of personality and sexism. And as my friend in California's experience attests, cult members can be a twitchy lot, especially where their fearless leader is concerned.

As for sexism, I think it is far more deeply ingrained in the American psyche than even racism, especially among white liberals. But then, this also occured to me: What better way to attone for being an affluent white male than to vote for a black male candidate?

All this makes me worry as to what might happen if Clinton wins the nomination. My fear is that all the Obama fanatics will stay home on election day. Methinks anyone who could get swept up like that could just as easily become disillusioned, and say what the fook does it matter?

But then again, maybe my neighbors offer some hope. Right up to the election, they had an Obama sign in their front yard. The next day, it was gone.

Perhaps that's a better metaphor for our party? We shall see....

Super Tuesday: Hillary, it is!

Today, I voted for Hillary Clinton, and while I had reservations beforehand (and even during!) my vote, I have come across some commentary that makes me feel a lot better about my decision.

First, consider this stunning article by Robin Morgan. She brings up some points that I wish I had in hand months ago. I was particularly taken by her noting the fact that while the older Kennedys embrace Obama, the younger members of the clan are siding with Hillary--so much for him being the beacon for the youth vote. She also offers an intense review of the mysogyny at root of so much of the anti-Hillary sentiment (and no, men aren't the only folks spreading it around). And she offers a pretty good summation of why a vote for Hillary makes the most sense. An excerpt:

"I’d rather say a joyful Hello to all the glorious young women who do identify with Hillary, and all the brave, smart men—of all ethnicities and any age—who get that it’s in their self-interest, too. She’s better qualified. (D’uh.) She’s a high-profile candidate with an enormous grasp of foreign- and domestic-policy nuance, dedication to detail, ability to absorb staggering insult and personal pain while retaining dignity, resolve, even humor, and keep on keeping on. (Also, yes, dammit, let’s hear it for her connections and funding and party-building background, too. Obama was awfully glad about those when she raised dough and campaigned for him to get to the Senate in the first place.)"

Plus:

"Me? I support Hillary Rodham because she’s the best qualified of all candidates running in both parties. I support her because she’s refreshingly thoughtful, and I’m bloodied from eight years of a jolly 'uniter' with ejaculatory politics. I needn’t agree with her on every point. I agree with the 97 percent of her positions that are identical with Obama’s—and the few where hers are both more practical and to the left of his (like health care). I support her because she’s already smashed the first-lady stereotype and made history as a fine senator, because I believe she will continue to make history not only as the first U.S. woman president, but as a great U.S. president.

"As for the 'woman thing'?

"Me, I’m voting for Hillary not because she’s a woman—but because I am."

Secondly, somehow I missed the bit about Barack Obama campaigning with an "ex-Gay" gospel singer in South Carolina, a man who said, in short, that lesbians do not exist.

(Allow me to reply: Actually, it's ex-Gays who don't exist. Ex-straights, on the other hand? We are legion.)

If you want to learn more about this little under-reported debacle, I suggest you read the Salon.com article, "Obama: Don't pander to homophobes," by James Hannaham. (If they let you.) An excerpt:

"Obama's gay advocates obviously support him regardless of this fumble. But his gay critics are right to ask why he thinks getting homosexuals to sit at the same table with antigay and allegedly 'ex-gay' Christians represents some kind of balance. Had McClurkin been a Holocaust denier, my money says Obama would be 'embracing a change' in his tour's entertainment lineup, lickety-split.

"It shouldn't surprise anyone that Obama is playing to both sides -- that seems to be what he's best at. He means well, but you know what they say about the highways in hell. However, adding Sidden to the mix without giving McClurkin the shaft was enough of an afterthought to incense the gay community without fixing the problem. Did Obama overestimate the depth of the black community's homophobia and unintentionally solidify the stereotype about him -- that he's the white man's black candidate? Well, if Sharpton refuses to pander to the homophobic faction of the black church, why should anybody else?"

Now, pardon me, I must go make a donation to Hillary's campaign.....

Do I flip a coin?

I am in such a quandary over the upcoming primary, I don't know what to do. Just when I think I've "decided," some new piece of information comes up, and I'm back in voting limbo yet again.

Could I vote for "Hirack Clinbama," possibly?

My latest preference was for Hillary. GWB has left the country in such disrepair, I thought it was imperative that the next president be able to act, and act quickly, to fix our country. There's just so much "cleaning up" to do, and the Clintons have years of experience cleaning up after Republican-made messes. Barack, on the other hand, has no such experience, and I feared that charisma or no charisma, movement or no movement, he would soon find himself up against some very unpleasant characters in Washington who were immune to his charms, to put it mildly. What then? What happens when your major claim to fame doesn't play in the trenches? And you don't have the option of voting "present"?

Well, that held me for a while. Then I read the endorsements of MoveOn.org, someone in The Nation, and beyond. And one of our neighbors, who, forgive me, I would have pegged as McCain devotees, put a Obama sign up in their yard just this week. In fact, we've seen countless Obama signs in our neighborhood and one Edwards--but none, not one, for Hillary.

And we had dinner with friends last night who derided Clinton as a part of the machine. Which, compared to Obama, she certainly is.

But I don't think she's as much of a "tool" as her husband was; but then, I could be wrong. And Obama certainly offers hope to a lot of people, which is not something one hears about Hillary (except from middle-aged and older women, I should add, but our dreams should not be the basis of such a major decision).

I dunno. If I could only grasp the Obama charm, that might help. But I don't. But then, I don't really look for charm in my candidates. I voted for the "old" Al Gore and John Kerry, for pity's sake.

Ah, heck. Whatever happens, I'll be voting for the Democratic candidate come November. And whoever it is, I hope the quanitifiable, verifiable and Electoral College-agreeable majority of voting Americans follows suit.

Two much!

We heard about a couple of dachshunds who needed a home--and fast--from our petsitter, and thought we should have them over, just in case Shwea took a shine to them.

Well, they were adorable, as one would imagine, but not to Shwea. They were a hair-raising, snarl-inducing duo who left her shaken, not stirred. The older one wasn't the issue; it was the younger, un-fixed one who thought Shwea's Back 40 was fascinating--he was the problem.

Oh well, it was worth a shot.

There are other people interested in the dogs, happily, so it's not as though we were the last stop before the gallows.

Still, it would have been nice to have a little more animal life around here--but these two were too much for our reigning animal, Her Highness Shwea.

And whatever Shwea wants, Shwea gets......

Now what?

So, Dennis K. has dropped out of the race, Ted and Caroline K. are backing Barak O. (who I think has more potential to become another Jimmy C. than another Jack K.), and Hilary C. is not exactly inspiring confidence, so what's a liberal democrat to do?

Put her head on her desk, that's what......

What are you doing?

Congressman update: Learned that my cousin also inspired a 0% rating from the AFL-CIO. (No wonder mother spoke of him but little!)

Goodbye, Uncle Rich!

Last Wednesday, my Uncle Richard breathed his last. We couldn't imagine Rich without Barb, and apparently, neither could he.

I miss him, and his stack of yet-to-be-read magazines, very much. He was a fabulous uncle, and won me over when I was just a wee one (he did a great duck imitation, let me tell you). He was of the co-conspirator school, and would wink and call you over to discuss "secrets" that were just hilarious nonsense.

Wonderful, delirious nonsense.

He and Barb shared wonderful senses of humor and tremendous style--two things our family did not exactly have in abundance, shall we say.

We'll muddle on somehow, but life is a little less absurd and a lot less tasteful, now that they're gone.

Ah, the shame continues

One of my compatriots suggests that my cousin the Congressman isn't as bad as he could be. Reviewing his record, one wonders what, exactly, that could mean. Perhaps my source is mistooken, but according to this site, the Congressman is a Moderate Republican of the rightward leaning variety, which means he is:

PRO
Death penalty
Gun ownership
Patriot Act
Privatization of Social Security
School prayer
School vouchers
Tax cuts for the wealthy

AGAINST
Abortion
Gay adoption
Gay marriage
Public health initiatives

Of course, he could be for public stonings of gays who have had abortions--that would be worse (certainly for me, his cousin), but good golly, he doesn't look so good from here!

But one site should not be my sole source--I will investigate further, and report back.

Ennis, we miss you!

I strive to keep clear of celebrity gossip (unless I'm in a doctor's office and there are People magazines around; then, I'm powerless), but I can't get enough info about what happened to Heath Ledger.

Linda and I are so sad he's gone--we thought he should have received the Oscar for his nuanced performance in "Brokeback Mountain," but figured an actor of his talent would have other chances.

So much for that, eh?

How liberal am I?

I've taken three "Who should you vote for (for president)?" tests and Dennis K. was "my" candidate each and every time.

I think that qualifies me as a liberal.

Or hopeless.

Hopeless liberal?

Family secret NO MORE!

In the church basement set, a favorite expression is, "You're as sick as your secrets." Well, apparently I have been keeping an aspect of my background on the down-low, and it has been suggested to me that I may be keeping this information in the family closet, as it were.

As a person with a comprehensive website, blog and MySpace page, I'm not exactly a closed book. However, there is a part of my family history that I haven't addressed, and well, I guess it's time to address it. My quiet on this issue hasn't been part of some elaborate cover-up--I am not mentally equipped for covert operations, as anyone who knows me can verify--but rather, a family/Midwestern/Catholic tendency to just leave things (particularly unpleasant things) be.

You see, back in Wisconsin, I have a cousin who is--well, there's just no way to sugar-coat this, so I'll just get it out--a Republican. Not only that, he's a member of Congress.

Yes, I, Ann Podolske, life-long liberal and mid-life lesbian, have a card-carrying and vote-making member of the GOP in my family tree.

How did this happen? Well, no one can really say how such things happen, but I do have a theory. The Congressman's father, my uncle and dear mother's only brother, was lost in WWII, and as a result, the Congressman wasn't raised with any Democratic influence at all, poor dear.

I guess he's a Republican because he just doesn't know any better. And while some might think that I, as a member of his family, have the duty to try to help the Congressman see the error of his ways, I know that I am powerless over how he votes on bills (the wrong way, typically), and that all I can do is take care of myself, donate to my favorite lefty causes, vote Democratic, and pray for him.

If there were a GOP-anon, I'd belong, but alas, there is no such organization.

Yet.

Good show, great view from the pews, bad news

Last night's set at The Studio was a "keeper," indeed. Did a mix of bits on drinking, aging and gay marriage--what a combo, come to think--that appeared to keep the packed-in-like-sardines audience laughing. Of course, I failed to ask Rick for a DVD (have absolutely no sense as to when I'll do well, alas), but he graciously offered to make me one afterwards.

And there will be more Studio dates in my future, as well, which, after a show like last night's, sounds just grand. Thank you, Mr. Jenkins.....

As for today, Linda and I also had a good morning at our newly-adopted place of worship--yes, it has come to this.

Good thing, for I came home to learn that my last remaining uncle is now a candidate for hospice, poor dear. Since my aunt died, his health has deteriorated dramatically--this past week he was declared not even fit enough for the Alzheimer's ward, for pity's sake! He's also not eating, which really signals the end for our people. Most people, actually.

We're hoping for a miracle, but the thing is, I doubt that he is. Looks like he's just tired and ready to go home.

It finally dawned on me: I'm in my Loss Years. One has many years where death is but an eventuality, and then, when you're lulled into a false sense of security, the Loss-A-Thon begins.

Oh, I was going to devote this New Year to The Comedy, wasn't I? Sorry about that!