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!