but I can't AFFORD to save $1400!!

really!

So I opened up my email to find an offer to

Save $1400 on a NEW home theater system!!!


The idea of saving $1400 is pretty exciting to me. Anything with the word "theater" in it is also exciting.

However, I have learned through sad experience that I simply cannot afford to save $1400.

the view from my window

Outside it is a hushed fairy land. The sparkle of white and the softness of drifts add to the impression of magic and innocence.

I know that the wind bites, that the dark tortured reaching of naked limbs of trees stripped bare is closer to the reality of winter than feathery coverlets hiding fairies yet unseen.

Still...

Inside it is warm and soup is on the stove; the air is fragrant with cooking and care. Dogs are curled at my feet, warming my toes. There is work to do, and some time in which to do it. There are new memories of good times shared with those we love, and plans ahead to meet again.

Outside it is clean and pure and there is magic in the air.

The ugliness of dead leaves and old mud has disappeared.

The snow blankets the muck and debris of a dying year. The wind whispers, sleep, sleep and soon all the pain and struggle of the year that is past will fall away, the pain will be but a memory and only the love will remain.

I can almost believe that this magic is possible. Quiet! Don't wake me from my dream.

Outside it is a hushed fairy land.

falling in love, just a little bit, if...

this is a tale told to me by a young man whose heart has been broken

maybe the heart is mending, just a little bit, if...

So, the young man said, I want to tell you about how I could have fallen in love, just a little bit, IF I were open to that.

He said, I was on the train in Chicago, going from where I had been to where I would be next, when I saw this girl.

She was pretty, a very pretty girl and I thought, wow, what a pretty girl. That is nice.

Then I noticed her dress. It was a white dress with green piping. It was a nice dress, and it looked good on her. I thought, wow, what a nice dress on such a pretty girl.

Then I noticed that she was reading-- which is a great thing to do on the train. Even better, she was reading Catch 22. You either get Catch 22, or you don't. I love Catch 22.

Wow! I thought, Amazing! Here is a pretty girl, a very pretty girl, in a nice dress, who reads, AND who has GREAT taste in literature.

At that moment, he said, I thought I might fall in love with this girl, just a little bit. IF, he said, I had been open to that.

The train traveled, he said, getting closer to my stop, and I wondered if I should say something to the pretty girl in the nice white dress with green piping who was reading one of the great books of all time.

I wondered, and wondered, and got closer and closer to my stop, and finally, I said to her:

"Catch 22! That's a great book!"

She looked up at me, this pretty girl in the nice white dress, and said: "I know! It's just amazing!"

And she smiled.

And her smile was beautiful. And I thought, I might fall in love, just a little bit, with this pretty girl in the nice white dress reading Catch 22, who has a beautiful smile-- IF, he added, I were open to that.

But then, he continued, my stop came up and I grinned at the girl as I left. I'm sure she thought I was some crazy guy on the train. But I could almost have fallen in love, just a little bit, with this girl on the train. IF I were open to that.

And the young man concluded his tale.

And I, dear reader, thought to myself, how appropriate that the book was Catch 22.

Family cruise on a river in Egypt

We are, of course, speaking of: De Nile.

My mother-in-law is 90 years old. She recently fell in her apartment. Fortunately, the "I've fallen and I can't get up" bracelet worked perfectly.

And then our adventures began.

The bracelet company called my husband as well as the people who came and helped Bubbe up. My husband and I drove in to her town to her apartment and we spent the night. She was in pain, having trouble moving, and exhibiting signs of confusion.

So the next day we decided to take her home with us. She really wasn't ready to be alone.

The next two nights at our home we got very little sleep. Bubbe gets up several times in the night to go to the bathroom. She couldn't manage by herself and so she called out to Ken.

The next day we took her back to her home town to see her doctor. Who promptly put her in the hospital.

The fractured vertebrae were cemented, which was a near miracle in reducing Bubbe's pain. After a few days, the doctor transferred her to the physical therapy floor, assuring us that he would keep her there "until they threw her out".

This lasted a few days when without warning her doctor popped in and said you're going home tomorrow.

She wasn't ready.

My husband drove in; his siblings drove in. His sister stayed with Bubbe a while. Finally, 24 hour care was arranged for a week "to give her time to get her strength back".

My husband is seeing pretty much what I am seeing.

Bubbe is still confused. She is terrified of falling again. She is disengaging with life. She keeps closing her eyes.

My sister-in-law and my brother-in-law don't / won't / can't (choose all that apply) see this. They keep talking about how she'll be "back to where she was" if she eats more, walks more, gets "out of the bad habit" of closing her eyes.

This is painful and so difficult for my husband. Especially since the family needs to be honestly discussing and making decisions.

And his siblings have opted for a cruise.

comfort food

Earlier I wrote about the death of my neighbor D and the funeral and her surviving husband G and ... about my cooking and bringing over food.

Apparently, when I don't know what to do or say, I cook. Sometimes I bake. Sometimes I make casseroles.

Mostly I make soup.

Soup is super. It really, literally, does make you "feel better".

It even makes me feel better to make it.

Because of disease, disappointments and deaths, over the past several months I estimate that I have made hundreds of gallons of soup.

I have made old favorites like matzoh ball soup and chicken soup and potato leek soup.

I have made new discoveries like summer squash soup and sweet potato and chickpea soup.

Today, though, as I plan on making up some more summer squash soup and sweet potato chick pea soup, I am discouraged.

What has all this soup accomplished? Is the world a better place? Or is it just more dirty dishes and veggies spared from the compost pile?

I feel like soup is not enough. Not by a long shot.

Today, the sun is shining (at last) but my spirit is cloudy still -- even rainy..

Maybe I should *have* some soup.

sandwich generation

Last year, we enjoyed a season as "empty nesters". All four of my children were old enough to vote, had health insurance and were living outside of my home.

Today-- temporarily, we hope-- we are the sandwich generation. My youngest has moved back in -- from Brooklyn, on her way to Chicago.

And my mother-in-law, 90 years old, fell in her apartment in Toledo 2 days ago.

My husband and I went to her apartment, stayed the night. She was still too frail, confused and in pain to stay on her own. So we brought her home with us.

Managing this will be an intricate dance.

My husband is at work from 8 am to 5 pm Mon through Friday. Which is a good thing: his patience with his mother has grown thin. It is very hard for him to see her old, frail, forgetful.

luck, the Scottish play and destiny

It is over. It went really well.

And I am still wondering what I am supposed to be doing with my life.

I was going crazy in the last two weeks. Would I have a set? Would it rain (in the outdoor venue)? Would I have anything resembling costumes? Would I have enough weapons for an "army"? Would the youngsters playing children and apparitions burst into tears? Would we cover costs? Would the sound ever work? Would the youth who routinely dropped character in EVERY rehearsal stay in character?

And my dear husband says that I go through some similar period of angst with each play, so much so that he takes it as a sign that the play is almost ready.

And that is true: I do.

BUT...

It seems to be worse each play (see "Poisonous Comedy" below).

(He says that I say that too... and he's right... BUT)

This is THE SCOTTISH PLAY. It is notorious for being unlucky.

And yet, and yet...

The set rose almost by magic on our tech Saturday. Teens and moms and dads pounded and painted and toted and transported and we were transformed.

The only rain was a torrential down pour during our final dress rehearsal-- and we managed to finish the rehearsal huddling under the pavilion, which would be our rain-back-up-plan.

And since we HAD a back up plan, we didn't end up needing it!

Moms showed up with sewing machines and created the needed costumes on the spot.

While the ordered costume swords NEVER ARRIVED, the loaner weapons, our shields and pikes armed the troops adequately.

Some of the young ones (and the not so young ones-- hormonal drama) DID burst into tears, but not onstage, and they carried on with their parts.

We covered costs and even made some money.

Sound gurus appeared from almost nowhere and we heard the play.

And wonder of theater magic wonders, my "problem child" got "into it" and made me and his mom proud.

So it worked. It went beyond just working, the play was marvelously well received by the audience.

And yet, and yet--

Is this what I am supposed to be doing with my life? None of my own children are a part of our troupe anymore-- they have all aged out. Even more odd is that very few of the current troupe know ANY of my children; if a current member has awareness of one of my kids, it is as someone of legend.

Also, I am tired of struggling at the last minute to pull it all together. I am tired of having no home, of having my car packed with props and costumes, of getting NEW people to help produce and promote each show.

"All I really want to do is direct"

On some days, I know that I have a tremendous and profound impact on the lives of the young people I work with-- some more, some less. Some much, much more.

Yet what about my growth and development as an artist? When I am re-inventing the production team wheel with each show, it robs me of the time for research, for intense rehearsals.

And not to be too crass about it, when do I get paid? Part of what validates a person as a professional is to get paid. With our operating budget, there is no way I can be compensated for my time in anything near a professional way.

Heck, we can't even pay me mileage. (Mileage for this play process, at the federal rate, would have amounted to over $900)

I struggle sometimes with the idea that perhaps I have already fulfilled my destiny. Maybe it is accomplished in the four wonderful young people I have brought into and brought up in the world. Maybe I have already touched that one special child that needed me.

Maybe I'm done.

Or maybe I'm supposed to write.

Or maybe I'm supposed to act. Or direct adults. Or teach.

Or retire.

Oh, wait, can't retire. Haven't really worked yet.

praise the Lord

My neighbor D died a week ago. She was 84 years old. She and her husband had been married for 62 years.

They had lived together in the house across the street from me for over 40 years (well, they lived in that house for over 40 years; I've only been across the street from them for 18).

Together they had 9 children. More than 20 grandchildren, more than 20 great grandchildren.

Their son V who still lives with them came to tell me. I gave him a hug and said I would be over in a while with some food.

So I made gallon or more of lentil soup, a green bean casserole and two sweet potato pies. With my husband K we walked over when he got home and delivered the food.

V was convinced he had sent me a telepathic message about the sweet potato pie.

That was Friday.

Sunday I brought over macaroni & cheese and brownies in the late morning. Then we went to visitation in the afternoon.

It was an open casket. She was dressed in a gold dress that she wore when she and her husband renewed their vows on the occasion of their 60th wedding anniversary.

There was also a video slide show of photos of her life.

I went to the funeral on Tuesday morning. It was at a Detroit church with a mainly African-American congregation. It was touching to see literally hundreds of people turning out to show their respects.

There were six clergy listed on the full - color, multi-page program. Much was made of the comment D made in her youth that she didn't want to marry a preacher or a farmer-- and the man she married was called to both professions.

Interesting to me was that there were microphones in the congregation as well as on the pulpit. It was clear that this was a very participatory congregation.

The speakers, one and all, commenced with Praise the Lord and sprinkled the rest of their comments with more PTLs and multiple Amens. There was humor and song and tenderness and tension.

A comment that struck me most was the one made by a clergyman to my neighbor, the new widower. This clergyman, too, had lost a wife after many years.

He said: You won't get over this, but you will get through it.

Amen. Praise the Lord.

I went home. Made four more sweet potato pies, and kissed my husband.

Amen. Praise the Lord.

the why

One of my favorite bloggers recently wrote of the persistent stress dream that has plagued so many of us for so long. You know the one, where I've signed up for a class and forgotten to attend and forgotten to drop it and now it is finals and I'm going to FAIL....



I added my variations (one includes a school bus driving into my house to get me), but commented that meditations on WHY might be too long for a comment.



So this my meditation on why:



Those of us who are driven to be overachievers (yeah, you know I'm talking about you) often have secret (0r not-so-secret) fears that really we are inadequate. As the stress dreams reveal, we are deeply afraid that we really don't know, we aren't prepared, we will be found out.



I think, in my case at least, the truth is that although I have been told all my life that I am "smart, I have been rewarded academically throughout my long educational process for being "smart", I don't feel "smart".



I just feel regular. Like me. Nothing out of the ordinary. And on occasion, I in fact have felt pretty stupid or foolish.



Add to this the fact that in certain eras of my life I felt deeply that this "smart" thing, myth or not, was all I had going for me, the idea that others might find out the truth of my interior ordinary-ness was/is terrifying.



So, that is my meditation on why.

picture perfect

So I have done the two weddings. They went well and I think everyone was pleased. In fact, both wedding couples have suggested that this is something I should look into doing professionally...

(weddings and funerals by design... atheists and unaffiliated my specialty)

AND the photos are back and both wedding couples have shared photos with me.

Which is lovely

though I am not.

ARGHHHH why is my weight so weighty? I worry about it. I even try doing something about it, with mixed results.

REALLY depressing.

gator dreams

I dreamed last night that I and a few others were riding inside an alligator. This was after we had been kicked out of the gym where we had been trying to rehearse, after having been kicked out of the rehearsal rooms where we had been trying to rehearse. After being kicked out twice and traveling in the alligator, we finally found a restaurant with an upstairs room where we went up and ordered biscuits and tea as an excuse to be there and moved the furniture around so that we could rehearse in the restaurant. My friend August was somehow the restaurateur, and was quite cheerful about having a crowd that only ordered biscuits and tea.

This is too much like real life.

All except the alligator part. In my dream, the alligator was black and smooth skinned. I kept thinking it was a Cyclops alligator, but truly it did have two eyes. And it moved pretty fast for having a theater troupe inside it.

I am always confused about the difference between alligators and crocodiles.

I asked my dad about it. He said they are different species. WELL DUH. Thanks, not so helpful.

(Oh, by the way, since "I am always confused..." we are back in real life... which makes sense, in a way).

So, for my own edification, here is the difference. Alligators and crocodiles are both members of the family Crocodylidae.

What I *didn't* know is that there are two more species: the caimans and the gharial.

This is the American alligator. It has a rounded snout.

The crocodile tends to have a pointier snout and it has lower jaw teeth that are visible even when its mouth is closed.

This is a Black Caiman, an endangered species.

This is a gharial. If you are on the Ganges River in India, and a log opens its mouth to reveal teeth, it is probably a gharial.

Feel, or no feel?

Currently popular is a mindless, idiotic, based-on-greed TV game show called:



With all the pain happening with all my loved ones, and the pain I feel along with them, I am thinking the options on life are: Feel, or no feel?

If we open ourselves up to love, we open ourselves up to loss. If we open up to depth in our relationships, we open ourselves up to potentially deeper wounds as well.

Do we keep going for the prize: joy, shared experience, laughter, love? Knowing we may lose everything?

Or do we shut down, stop trying, avoid the pain by avoiding the feeling?

good grief

Is there such a thing?

Grief is unavoidable if you live, if you feel. We all experience loss. We grieve for what we lose. We grieve for lost futures and lost possibilities.

If grief is inevitable, surely there is some purpose to it? Surely it serves some function?

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross described five steps in the grieving. The stages are:

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance. The stages don't always come in this order; one doesn't always experience all five.

However, not only the research of Kubler-Ross but also my own experience tells me these are true, real stages of grief.

Is there anyway to shorten the first four phases and move to the fifth? More to the point at this moment for me, is it possible to help someone through these phases?

Amidst all the pain of grief, of sharing another's pain, the question remains: why? for what purpose?

and the world goes on

how is it that the world goes on when it feels like the world has fallen apart?

Other people go for walks, buy coffee, make plans--

When all the world seems on hold for me-- while I seek some means of leveraging us off this spot-- this focus on pain--

I need a really long lever--

and God give me someplace to stand.

not for sissies

This parenting gig is not for sissies. It is truly unimaginable, and I suppose that the Force that governs the universe made it that way on purpose.

There are moments of incredible transcendence. And there are times of incredible pain.

A mother, they say, is only as happy as her least happy child.

So at the moment I am miserable.

I have four children; I don't know if I can characterize even one as "happy" currently.

One is dealing with serious health concerns; determined to power through, taking all the right steps, keeping worries on the back burner as much as possible.

One is heart broken and cannot see any light. Getting up, going to work, going through the motions. Keep faking it, I want to say, keep faking it and eventually you will be making it real.

One is tense, sometimes trapped and sometimes content.

One is transitioning, confused, off-kilter, not quite lost and not quite found.

And I am feeling the pain and it is hard for me to find light.

Part of me wants to slap someone or several ones and yell and say HEY! You have all that you had last week, except this one person; yes it hurts but THIS TOO SHALL PASS. Let it pass. You have all kinds of deep resources-- great friends and loving family and a good start on community. Don't throw it all away just to delve into this pain.

The word used by my child was "impotent"-- I want to say, YOU feel impotent???? I would give anything to take this pain away and there is nothing...

the dog ate my homework

"The dog ate my homework!"

This classic cliche excuse for work undone should no longer apply to one after high school... well really after elementary school!

And yet, here I am working on the dissertation that will -- when complete!-- we hope-- lead to my PhD-- and I find--

the above dog is earnestly trying to eat my homework.

He already chewed up seriously one of my library books. I have no idea how much THAT will cost.

He's too old to be teething. And I am too old to be claiming "the dog ate my homework"!

Yet...

irony

So, reflecting back on past posts, we all know I am... ambivalent about marriage.

Irony: I have become ordained in order to officiate at friends' weddings. AND I love it and I think I will be extraordinarily good at it.

Go figure.

I can also officiate at funerals and I am also a spiritual advisor.

You know, I have always regarded myself as an advisor/counselor/friend in times of soul searching.

Now I have the ID that proves it.

stand up comic

I think I want to be a stand up comic.

They get paid to tell stories to people.

And they get to wear blue jeans to work.

guilt

So how do you get rid of guilt?

Some guilt is good: discomfort that urges you away from wrong action.

But most guilt is just an ugly, raw drain on your energy.

Or mine.

So I'm feeling guilty that I can't figure out time to attend a club meeting tomorrow.

I'm feeling guilty that I haven't made as much progress as I should on my dissertation.

Guilty that I haven't kept up like I should/would like with friends and loved ones.

Guilty that my house is sooooo dirty and cluttered... again.

How do you let go of this? It's not helping clean the house, write the dissertation or call the friend. It's just weighing me down.

family stories- death bed promise

I always wondered why my first cousin once removed never married, and even now lives with her nearly-90 year old father and her dysfunctional brother in his forties (who also never married).

Talking with my mom recently I heard that on her deathbed, my great aunt made my cousin promise to always take care of her (my cousin's) father and brother.

HOW could a mother do that to a daughter? According to my mom, our cousin (my mom's cousin) has at least twice had a relationship with a man who wanted to marry her...but she didn't wouldn't couldn't due to this deathbed promise.

This particular great aunt was one I always cared for... it is hard for me to imagine her doing something like this.

Families are strange.

REALizing love

What makes love real? I am one of those that believes that love should be an active verb.

Hugs and kisses and all that follows is making one kind of love-- but there is so much more beyond eros...

The love of family and friends-- this is made real but not with words but with a look, a touch, a smile, a hug.

Being there.

Listening.

Making soup.

I am making a lot of soup and pouring into it so much love.

smiles to go before we sleep

Today I am taking off on a road trip. I am excited. I am traveling with my mom, who has been a very good time on many occasions.

She is recovering from care-giving for two of her near and dear; two deaths in just about two years. At first, when I suggested this trip, she almost talked herself out of it. Now that she doesn't have the caregiving responsibilities, first it was the dogs, then the babysitting for my sister-- Enough! I said, We can solve these problems! Let's go!

So we are on our way!

AND we are on our way to visit my daughter, always a good time!

The First Born Daughters' Club about to kick off!

Taking a back seat

We just drove my mother-in-law home to Toledo. I sat in the backseat. I was raised to have respect for my elders, and my mother-in-law will be 90 in just a few weeks. Definitely my elder.

She is frail, lately, too. It is hard for her to get in and out of the car. It is easier from the front seat.

So I sit in the back seat.

When I am in the car with my daughters, I usually sit in the back seat.

They get car sick, you see. And the car sickness isn't so bad if they sit in the front.

So I sit in the back seat.

Poisonous comedy

The good news is that the show went marvelously well in the end.

The bad news is that the stress on me was just not worth it.

The story begins with an overabundance of good news: Enough actors tried out so that we could have TWO complete casts. This is great to have all these eager and interested young people. It is stressful for ME as director to creatively, cleverly and appropriately cast 28 as opposed to 14. I rose to the challenge: the casting was quite brilliant, in fact (she says modestly).

ONCE the cast list was posted, then two actors dropped. Significantly, they were not cast in lead roles; unfortunately, BOTH were actors who attended the school hosting our production, which left us with fewer "hometown actors" and posed a challenge to our legitimacy in being in the building.

(oh, by the way, we were using this facility because the previous school that we had made arrangements with... all rent free according to verbal agreement and even email agreements...suddenly went to the board and announced charges that were a minimum of $1000 -- rent-- and could grow to about $2000-- adding snow removal. We politely declined and found another space).

So that was challenge one. Then, as we all started reading the script, the number of hells and damns proved off putting to parents, so we moderated these to hecks and darns.

Then parents of two (sibling) cast members (after rehearsals had started, mind you) set up a meeting to discuss the language and the kissing... kissing that DID NOT INVOLVE either of their children!! We spoke for over an hour and the mom (the parent rep who attended) seemed much reassured; her daughters continued to attend rehearsals, with mom in the background laughing and commenting what a great show it was.

Then a brief email from these parents that said that the language changes were not enough, and they were withdrawing their daughters from the play.

!!!

THEN another actor (who had actually attended far more rehearsals than his "twin") dropped unexpectedly, saying he thought he could balance multiple commitments but he couldn't... AND he was the one with access to the critical window seat for the dead bodies that is central to the action of this play.

MEANWHILE another parent is starting in on me regarding a phrase (again not one that either of her children speaks) suggesting a connection between eroticism and religion. I told her it was a "throw away line" meant to be tossed off playfully and not the focus of the dialogue; that I would consider her concerns but I didn't think it would be a problem in the playing of it.

Fast forward to runthroughs: this parent attended a runthrough and fired off an angry email "surprised and disappointed that the 'throw away line' wasn't TOSSED OUT."

Feh!

So I emailed with my board who agreed with me and wrote to her:

I regret that you were disappointed when you heard the "throw away" line at the rehearsal Monday. I regret that I was not clear enough when we spoke; by "throw away line" I meant a line meant to be said as light and funny, not as a line of no value. The line is just a part of the scene, not the focus of the scene. I did consider the change you proposed; however, I am confident that the scene plays well as written.This particular line is a character note, that communicates that Mortimer is an intellectual person, and Elaine is someone he needs that keeps him grounded. As I have mentioned, I feel that the play is clear in its writing, and in my directing, that Mortimer and Elaine clearly are interested in a wholesome marriage; this teasing and flirting is just before Mortimer proposes marriage.It is my strong conviction that in no way is this play smutty or prurient.I have spoken to my board of directors about this, as it was clear that this is important to you, and I did not want to speak for myself alone. The board is in agreement with me on this. Our troupe is a troupe for teens, rather than children. We want to be able to do plays that allow young people to think and stretch creatively. While we always hope our troupe is fun, it is not for fun alone, but also to encourage growth in leadership and creative excellence.Again, I regret any discomfort that I may have caused by being less than clear in our previous conversation.

***********

So then I waited to see if THESE TWO actors would drop; but no, they attended and continued helpful as ever and no reference was ever made again.

Fast forward to final dress rehearsals, and wrapping this up quickly:

At final dress rehearsals, one of the (double cast) leads was clearly not solid on lines!! I spoke to her firmly, and "just in case" made sure that her "twin" was on hand the next night for opening... So, on that opening night, she came early, worked lines with me, then with her brother, then with her co=actors.

STILL-- about half an hour before the performance was to start, there was a mini-conference happening of lead actors -- without the one under discussion-- IS she ready? CAN she do it?

I broke this up, spoke with our actor: can you do it? She said yes. I said, well we have to tell the team that and so I directed a return to team bonding and confidence and then, sure enough:

THEATER MAGIC

The opening was fine, great all went well...
and in a twist of karmic justice, the "twin" that everyone was counting on and hoping to put in on night one, on HER opening on night two, stumbled multiple times!!

THEN
last day, last performances: and a stubborn little teen (female playing a male) suddenly refused to remove her eye make up... which she HAD removed the day before...HUGE stubborn scene, again about 1/2 hour from opening...She threw down, okay if I can't perform unless I take off my make up, I won't perform.

I said, fine. If you decide you will take off your make up in the next five minutes, great. If you decide you won't perform, fine.

I then made arrangements for her "twin" to be on call.

At the last possible second, she caved and took off her make up; I let the twin know she could stand down. I also made nice so the team ensemble spirit remained.

I even got an apology after the show.

And the shows, miraculously, all went well.

Note on personal growth: I did not take this teen's tantrum personally AT ALL. I was very clear it had nothing to do with me and tons to do with the family dynamic and I was just caught in the crossfire.

Yep, this comedy was a lot of laughs.

Now, the age old dilemma: vodka or valium? I choose vodka!

family stories: switched at birth

this is the story that my mom told me about her paternal grandfather:

There were two women who gave birth at the same time at the same hospital. One of the mothers died; the baby of the other mother died. So the ?nurses? switched the dead baby to the dead mother, and gave the live mother the live baby...

So that although I can do the genealogical research, without DNA I won't know FOR SURE how far that line goes back...

vent

So, I teach an intro class at the university level. It's an intro class, and satisfies a gen ed requirement. I believe that an intro class should be just that, an introduction to the university environment. Therefore, I structure the class with opportunities for extra credit, with opportunities to turn in work early for evaluation and feedback so that the student can improve the work and re-submit for a better grade.


I submitted the grades. Every semester, some fail, usually because they stopped attending or didn't do the work. IF they do the work, they usually end up with a B or better.

So this semester, B+ and A- grades were practically *gifts* to several students who did NOT take advantage of the repeated offer to turn in writing early so that it could be evaluated and resubmitted for an improved grade; who really didn't participate much (participation is 20% of the grade).

AND THEN

Two or three of these students asked WHY they got a "low" grade!!!

30% of the grade for this class is a writing assignment, which these students turned in BARELY in time (not early, for an opportunity for feedback). The assignments from all of these students were shorter than the minimum length AND full of grammatical errors.

THEN when I wrote back with a detailed explanation of how I arrived at the grade, the B+ wrote back saying, thanks for the explanation (in which I explained how I arrived at 86.95, a B+), and could I "bump up" the grade to an A-!!

I wrote back, ah, NO, if I "bump up" a 86.95, that makes it 87, which IS STILL A B+!!

So, I am NICE and then they want MORE??? I should have offered to re-evaluate the writing and grade it more appropriately!

professionalism

So have you seen the commercial where the customer has her hair all up in rollers and the stylist is yakking on the phone and the customer tries to say something and the stylist snarls "I'm ON the PHONE!"

Yeah, well that was me and my mom at our last hair cut. Oh, the stylist wasn't snarling at us. But she was taking calls, making calls, stopping the blow drying to gossip with the receptionist about other customers.

TURNING OFF THE BLOW DRYER so she could hear the gossip better.

ARGHHH!!

It's bad enough that neither my mother nor I are big on hearing random about people we don't know (and, I wonder what she says about US when we aren't around). BUT I am in a hurry. I have to get to the theater to check in my actors.

So after my mom's cut & blow dry, I get in the chair and say I'm in a hurry, I will forego the blow dry, I need to leave by 11:30 a.m.

My mom's cut & blow dry took an hour. My cut, with apologies (but still a couple of calls) took twenty minutes, so there was still 10 minutes for a blow dry.

On the upside, my haircut and my mom's are both great.

On the down side, I am looking for another stylist.

Really!

I go for a haircut to feel pampered. I expect to have the focus and attention of the stylist. I always thought the receptionist's *job* was to answer the phone and say, "I'm sorry, she's with a customer right now, may I take a message," then take the message and give it to the stylist AFTER she finishes with the customer/client.

Both my mom and I wondered, has this woman never seen that commercial? Impossible! It's all over the tube.

Instead, she, like so many of us, has seen this flaw and laughed at it and never applied it to herself.

Dale Carnegie

I am a fan of Dale Carnegie.

I am. No apologies.

I first encountered Dale when I was young-- maybe 10 or 12. My dad was taking one of his courses, and he was sharing some of the insights with me as he was driving me somewhere-- maybe picking me up from Girl Scouts?

Anyway, part of what he shared with me at that time was that a really important skill was really listening to people-- taking an interest in what interested them.

(Frankly I think he told me this to shut me up from babbling....)

As part of the course, Dad got the book "How to Win Friends and Influence People". Because it was printed matter, and in my house, I read it.

I know it's a sales manual, essentially. It still makes a lot of sense. Recognize people. Use their names. Give positive reinforcement. Listen.

It all made a lot of sense. It helped. It didn't rescue me from total geek-dom, but it helped.

I survived junior high, didn't I?

Fast forward to my adult years. I have children, they become teens, and through 4-H, the kids take the Dale Carnegie Course.

I refresh my memories of the Carnegie wisdom.

A few years later, one of my sons, seeing me stressing out, suggests I read "How to Stop Worrying and Start Living" from his Dale Carnegie course.

I read it... or re-read it, I can't remember. Part of the formula for the "stop worrying" part is: Ask yourself, what is the WORST that can happen?

Acknowledging the worst that can happen is remarkably freeing. One of the examples in the book is a man who is present in a country (foreign to the U.S.) when there is a violent coup. What's the worst that can happen? Well, the new powers-that-be could decide he's a threat and execute him. So, that's bad. Recognize that. And what can you do to minimize the chance that the worst will happen?

This is great. Acknowledge that some things are out of your control. Acknowledge that you do have *some* control over some things: your attitudes; usually, your own actions.

So: there is a lot going on in my life right now. (So, what else is new?) There is A LOT that I cannot control.

Acknowledge that.

Then, do what I can to minimize negative outcomes; do what I can to maximize positive outcomes.

Health: the health of several that I love is compromised or in jeopardy. There isn't much I can do; I am doing what I can.

MY HEALTH: I am taking action by increasing exercise and making better choices in eating.

Career: I am ticking off one by one the jobligations that I have: finished one commissioned interactive play; finishing up teaching assignment at University; countdown until play I'm directing goes up; supplemental school winding down.

Academic/career: WORK every day, and I MUST succeed.

Wish me luck, and help me by nagging, bragging, removing obstacles and sending prayers.

Stop worrying. Start living.

Thanks.

drugs reprise

Just found this image so I came back to say that in my book, caffeine is a GOOD DRUG.

torture movie

I had a terrible, terrible dream last night. And I think it was inspired at least in part by the movie Funny Games, which I have not seen, and do not intend to see.


Funny Games is a movie that is about torture and that purports to torture the audience with "the fear and violence that, according to [director Michael Haneke], flow like poison behind the fake facades of bourgeois life."

I saw Naomi Watts interviewed on Jay Leno's Tonight Show about this movie and her role in it. Just the description and the brief clip shown on the show was enough to set my stomach churning and give me nightmares.

A whole stable of them.

Why are there such violent, sadistic movies made? Naomi Watts suggested that it was the director's intent to torture the audience for being an audience of such violence, for having a taste, creating a market for violent, horrific movies.

Really.

It seems like this movie is just more pornography of violence. Perhaps artistic, perhaps well constructed.

But the worst kind of pornography, in my book: that of violence.

I don't go to any of the movies which have violence as their raison d'etre.

And I won't see this one.

Yuck.

But I hope I sleep better tonight.

reply

One of the features of the digital info age is that near instantaneous replies are possible. Literally around the world, someone can ask and be answered almost at once.

Live chat sessions to repair your computer. INSTANT messaging.

One of the drawbacks of this feature, it seems to me, is the change in expectations resulting in less patience.

In a bygone era, if you wrote a letter, a speedy response would be in a week to ten days.

Now, if I post a question or a comment, if I don't hear a response before days end, or AT LEAST within 24 hours, I am puzzled, frustrated, nearly offended.

Was my message not received? Is the receiver ignoring me? WHY haven't I heard back?

What do you think?


HEY! Why haven't you answered??? It's been TWO MINUTES!

drugs

I have a friend who has recently had major surgery. He is slowly recovering, and he is on morphine.

I remember morphine.

When I went in for an appendectomy, I was put on morphine post-surgery. This is a lovely drug. Seriously. I knew there was pain, but I truly didn't care.

Even emotional pain: my parents were newly divorced and each had a significant other with them when they came to visit me at the same time in my hospital room.

I knew I should care, but I didn't.

It is a testament to my dedication to being a nursing (that is to say, breastfeeding) mom at the time, that I got myself off of morphine in just a bit over 24 hours.

My friend has the new pusher device so that he can self-medicate. This is new: not something they trusted me with-- probably a good idea.

It's not perfect, but when you are in a lot of pain, morphine certainly helps. In my opinion, it's a good drug.

I am, myself, the child of the sex, drugs and rock-n-roll era. Even so, I am anti-drug. I don't really want pharmeceuticals in my food. Definitely anti-recreational/illegal drugs. And I have longed, how I have longed, to avoid drugs in my own life.

Even antibiotics.

I think we are all over drugged. I think that's why there are drug-resistant super-germs. I am one of those who believes that we should let our immune system do its thing, that our immune system gets stronger by doing its job.

And yet...

Morphine is a lovely drug. It's no wonder it's controlled.

And I cheerfully use my favorite and most frequent drug, caffeine. (In fact, I am not at all cheeful when I am caffeine free.) I am well aware that alcohol is a legal drug with many dangers, to be used carefully-- and I use alcohol. Often I use them both in the same day. Not too long ago, after a night in which I'd had a couple of great cups of coffee-- at midnight-- and then 2 or 3 glasses of wine, I had a sleepless night. I remarked to my friends:

You know how if someone is drunk, and drinks a bunch of coffee to try to sober up, all you get is a wide-awake drunk?

--my friends conceded they were well aware.

Well, I continued, I've discovered that if you have too much coffee late at night, and try to drink some wine so you can sleep, all you get is a really mellow insomniac.

It's not just my drugs-of-choice caffeine and alcohol. My physician has me on two drugs by prescription. One is for my depression, and I hope to wean myself off of this one in the not too distant future. The other is for my cholesterol. According to my latest bloodwork, this one is working. I may be on it for the rest of my life.

Drugs. Maybe the symbol shouldn't be :

But instead, the symbol should be:

STD

Recently released government research states that one in four teen girls has an STD- a sexually transmitted disease.

This is so disturbing on so many levels.

Why is this study on girls? Where is the study on boys? Is it "easier" to study girls? Are girls somehow to blame?

According to the study, while one in four American teen girls has an STD, within the African-American population, the statistic is still more alarming. Almost fifty percent of teen African-American women have an STD.

The study goes on to blame this rise in STDs on the failure of sex education-- and specifically "abstinence only" sex education.

No surprise there-- just telling kids NOT to do what their bodies are screaming to do is DOOMED to failure from the start.

The study also mentions that many teens do not consider it "sex" if it isn't intercourse. Thus oral sex and other sexual activities "don't count" even though these activities also spread disease.

A Law and Order repeat last night was on some of these "it's not sex" parties with teens. AKKHH! How can these kids believe this is not sex? What a different world.

words

I love words. I have a fairly good vocabulary, if I do say so myself.

My vocabulary is large and sort of-- organic. It's rich, ready and available and always growing both by adding new words and by deepening the understanding of words I already have.

For instance, I was about to comment that my dogs are like recalcitrant children.

I know the word recalcitrant. I know how it feels, what it suggests and I was fairly certain I knew what it meant-- but not crisply, sharply certain.

recalcitrant: Marked by stubborn resistance to and defiance of authority or guidance.

So now I realize that Jackson is recalcitrant. What is the word for Jasper? I mean, is doofus enough?

doofus: An incompetent, foolish, or stupid person.

Maybe Jasper isn't a doofus. Maybe he just looks like doofus sounds. He isn't foolish or stupid. He's just clumsy and usually gets caught when he's up to mischief.

Maybe he's a schlemiel.

schemiel: A habitual bungler; a dolt.

That's closer, I guess.

Habitual.

We all have habitual words. I find it's hard to identify one's own habitual words, while it's easy to identify someone else's.

I am not talking about, like, I mean, the words, you know, that somehow, like, get, you know, uselessly, I mean, just, like, strewn about within, you know, sentences.

I am talking about words that we as individuals drag out and use far more often than most of the population.

For instance, my husband is fond of the word demeanor. He uses it correctly. It's simply that it comes up far more often in his speech than in most people's conversation.

Once, an entire graduate level class of mine all seemed to find it necessary to use the word visceral several times each class meeting.

I wonder what my habitual words are these days?

"When I make a word do a lot of work like that," said Humpty Dumpty, "I always pay it extra." —Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass, 1872

Holly

We had the opportunity to visit with my other son and his wife this past weekend.

It is still odd to me to say "and his wife". On some level, my children will always be children to me, even though every one of my four children is now over 18-- the age of majority in the current era. Always, my children.

On the other hand, it is a distinct pleasure to enjoy the company of the adults my children have become.

My son came over and worked on his taxes with his dad, discussing finance and car repair and home ownership. He and his wife are both looking at grad school; they are both employed and share with us the ups and downs on the job.

We went out to dinner. A friend of ours was playing a gig in the restaurant. He is my friend, and also a friend of my son. We have friends in common. I talk theater with our friend; my son talks music and technology.

My heart swells at the amazing young man my son has become. Charming, responsible, intelligent and thoughtful.

This is a good moment. While I give my son every credit for working on, growing and maturing to the person he has become-- is becoming-- still, I know that the years of parenting have had an impact, too.

dogs and health

I am having trouble, just at the moment, understanding just how anyone ever decided that there are health benefits to having dogs.

Having a dog is supposed to improve one's mood and lower one's blood pressure. Having dog is supposed to reduce stress. HA!

My TWO dogs seem to be bent on RAISING my blood pressure, destroying any positive mood and stressing me out.

My beautiful black dog is bouncing (literally) back and forth between barking his head off at the front room window, the window on the backyard, or my face. When he stops barking, it is to pick up ANYTHING- shoe, coat, pillow-- that he can chew or tear apart. Or thinks he can, until I shout LEAVE IT! Whereupon he drops the item and resumes barking, usually at my face.

My beautiful blond dog is coming up to me adoringly, trailing ropes of saliva which he seeks to paint me with as he lays his head on my arm, my lap, tries to lick my face.

It's really--

Wait, what do I hear? SILENCE?

Well, sometimes it is lovely to have dogs.

So long as we let sleeping dogs lie.

Chicago

We went to visit our son in Chicago. We had a great time guiding each other through the city.

Our son had a gift certificate to RJ Grunts and took us there for lunch. My husband pointed out to our son the exact spot where my husband first caught site of me.

We stayed in our son's apartment. We did some of the ordinary chores of family life-- cooking, grocery shopping. We accompanied him to his work and watched him in action.

We visited with his girlfriend and with her parents.

We went to a movie. It's been a long time since we went to a movie downtown. We forgot about parking. Somehow, we just barely made it into the movie so the opening scene was just beginning.

Timing is everything.

One side benefit of going to the movie: we all discovered the location of Second City. Good to know.

While my husband and I shared some of our personal history in Chicago, our son introduced us to the features of his Chicago: we toured the Art Institute of Chicago, and our son introduced us to the Bean.

We went out and enjoyed some Chicago blues at the Kingston Mines.

We packed a lot into a few days. We enjoyed it all-- enjoyed most of all spending time with a wonderful young man, our son.

snowed in

Everyone could use a day off.

Today was a very rare day. It snowed most of yesterday and into the night last night. So Ken had a snow day-- his school was closed.

And miracle of miracles, Emily called a snow day for our after-school teaching.

There are a thousand and one things I shoulda-coulda done.

But everyone can use a day off... so I read a book just for fun. All the way through.

V day and the V Monologues

This past weekend I performed in the Vagina Monologues. I don't perform often these days: I've been busy directing, studying, working and living. The VM are worth performing.

The Vagina Monologues as a V-Day project are works in progress / in process advancing awareness, providing education. V-Day goes on to advocate and agitate an end to violence against women.

"The National Violence Against Women Survey found that 1 of 6 U.S. women and 1 of 33 U.S. men has experienced an attempted or completed rape as a child and/or an adult. (Prevalence, Incidence, and Consequences of Violence Against Women. U.S. Department of Justice, Office of Justice Programs. November 1998.)" -- http://www.mcadsv.org/mrcdsv/resource/stats/stats.html

It varies...

the weather. It's Michigan, so it varies.

And maybe global warming has something to do with it.

Yesterday, it was near 50 degrees F. Last night, temperatures dropped to the single digits. 40 degree drop in just a few hours time.

So naturally, there are gusting winds. Some have been clocked up to 60 miles an hour.

It is killing cold. The wind is roaring like an angry freight train. In just the short walk from car to store, my face began to ache.

Warmer tomorrow. In the 30s.

It varies.

updates

The play went well enough. It was very well received by parents and students.

The refrigerator was emptied, unplugged, washed, vacuumed and given a day of rest. When I plugged it in it worked.

I bought a pedometer and I am currently being frustrated because my Personal Electro-Magnetic Force Field apparently is at work on it so I cannot get an accurate reading.

I am on to my dissertation writing.

Searching for a theater home for the spring show... again.

Thanks for the theater magic, Universe. It came through!

theater magic needed... and all will be well

I am working like a madwoman on my dissertation project/play of Midsummer Night's Dream with 7th and 8th graders that opens THIS FRIDAY and is plagued by more problems than Waiting for Guffman... SEND LOVE and PRAYERS that Theater Magic will do its work and all will be well

(After Saturday I may somewhat return to the world of the living)

 

When luck turns cold

A. I live in Michigan.

B. It is January.

C. My refrigerator stopped working.

A + B should mean that C should not result, at least, in the spoilage of the entire contents of the refrigerator.

However:

D. Coinciding precisely with the breakdown of my refrigerator is a FREAKISHLY WARM SPELL. It was in the mid-sixties today.

My garage is NOT a walk-in cooler, not in January 2008, even though it HAS functioned as a walk-in cooler every other January that I have lived here.

Such is my luck.