Mississippi weekends- beginning with Friday

After a delicious meal delivered by a disdainful waitress, our little band stopped at CVS for a couple of purchases and then trooped over to B's townhouse for an afternoon glass of wine and we continued our visiting.

Our evening plans were to head out and join friend NM for karaoke. The karaoke restaurant/bar was picturesque but, B explained, had a limited and greasy menu, so we had baked spaghetti and broccoli at home before heading out.

We arrived at the nightspot. As we drove up, we found 3 similar establishments, one next door to the other. We were headed to the third in the row, although D explained that all three have similar menus and ambiance, yet all three manage to survive.

The restaurant was on the reservoir, and as we headed for waterside seating, we noticed that this was apparently NOT karaoke night. As we approached, it was "almost like a scene from a movie" as we were greeted by the opening guitar phrases of "Sweet Home Alabama". As we entered, we discovered the cover band looked like they were teens. What they lacked in talent- which was much- they made up for in volume.

So we moved out of the building and away from the band and down a ramp onto a deck on the reservoir. The deck was furnished with standard picnic tables and we moved toward the one nearest the ramp. Dh K and I sat on the side further from the deck railing; D slid onto the other bench nearer the railing.

Before B could join D, I said:

B, I think you might want to sit by me on this side.

B looked at me quizzically; but before she could ask me why, I pointed out the spider who was cheerily spinning a web in and around the deck posts and railing.

B jumped! and moved to my side of the table- and then moved back, cautiously- and flipped open her phone to film the spider! Soon dh K and D were using their phones for lighting!

And then we moved to an entirely different table, that was, as far as we could determine, spider-free.

We ordered our drinks.

Eventually NM arrived. Although disappointed by the lack of karaoke she was undaunted. Somehow she charmed the proprietor into bringing her a free split of champagne.

NM thought dh K's beard was bad-ass! And she invited us all over to her house with her parents to celebrate her dad's birthday with mojitos on Sunday- or was it Saturday? - the mojitos may have clouded my memory.

We finished our drinks and headed off into the night.

musing in Mississippi

I am having lots of fun visiting my beloved first born daughter B at her home in Jackson Mississippi. I have no idea why I always end up visiting her in a sweltering state in the summertime, but so it goes.

Anytime is a good time to visit her!

Nevertheless, with temperatures 100+ and high humidity, our activities are planned to include as much indoors-enjoying-air-conditioning events as possible.

Sadly, on this trip I will miss visiting the museum with the tw0-headed snake.


Oh, how I did enjoy visiting the two-headed snake and learning its story. One head of a two-headed snake usually tries to kill the other, forever frustrated by the fact that so many organs are shared that the death of one head will inevitably cause the destruction of the other.

There is a moral in this for all of us. I am not certain what it is, but I feel certain that there is indeed a moral.

But I digress.

We arrived Thursday afternoon. After B picked us up at the airport, we swung by B's townhouse where she now lives with her boyfriend D- and his mustache- so that we could drop off our bags and settle in to our own guest bedroom. We said hi & by to D who had stopped home briefly and was headed back to the office- followed by his attending a callback. So we wouldn't see him until later in the evening.

We renewed our acquaintance with B's dog Dov and met B's new foster dog Chewie and D's cat Loki.

B had some work to finish up on her computer and K and I set up our electronics and caught up on our email. It felt good to spend time with B! We opened some wine and B started roasting a duck. When D arrived we had a late dinner of delicious roast duck and green salad.

Friday we lazed around then went to a late brunch in Fondren. We ate sparingly as we knew we'd be having late lunch with DH. B had a computer that UPS had been trying to deliver, so we went to pick it up. The only UPS pickup station for Jackson is FAR from B's home AND in a hugely sketchy neighborhood. K and I were glad we traveled with her to what is arguably the hardest to find UPS station in the world.

We picked up her computer and headed out to meet DH for lunch. We ate at Hokkaido, a Japanese restaurant in Madison MS. It was great to see DH, but we had a stone faced waitress who was practically radiating disdain.

The food was good, though.

More soon.

not an especially good day

Monday was a Monday, which can be rough anyway.

It was the Monday after the wonderful but too short weekend in Chicago.

A series of unhappy events:
1. When I picked up the dogs, I was informed Jackson had snarled and nipped at a new employee there. The receptionist from whom I collected the dogs kept say, we sure don't want to tell you that you can't bring him anymore... the subtext being, if this happens again, you can't bring him anymore. This is bad, bad news, as we are nearly out of options for Jackson when we *must* travel, and with my mom moving in, we can't have this untrustworthy behavior.

2. I got a call from the Lopez building receptionist. The MYT inventory trash, that had to be moved out before Sept. 1, was laying all around the overflowing dumpster and the dumpster hadn't been picked up.

3. When I talked to my mom, her update was worrisome: she feels she's getting worse, weaker.

Not an especially good day.

Damn you, KB, wherever you are!

I am haunted by sophomore year in high school. By "mediocrity".

In my sophomore year, our school put out a literary/poetry/arts magazine/publication. It featured poems and other writings and photos by students.

I had some poems published.

So did KB, an upperclassman.

Later that year, KB wrote in my yearbook "(blah blah blah) you inspired my favorite poem Mediocrity."

I was shattered. You see, I had read that poem. It was about a woman/girl with great aspirations who never quite made it past (or to) the middle of the pack.

I asked KB, how?? did I inspire that poem?

And she said, oh, no I think you are great, you are so talented, (blah blah blah) it's just that I can't imagine anyone I know actually "making it."

I still feel haunted by that poem.

I'm having a rough day today. My social media feeds are full of "back to school" bulletins of former students, of former colleagues-- and I am not headed back to school to teach (due to the economy, due to - blah blah blah). Others that I *know* are not close to as gifted as I in teaching, or directing, are going back to jobs, are getting tenured at jobs.

I have- voluntarily- retired from my artistic directorship of the youth theater troupe I founded. Which was absolutely the right decision: the position was eating more and more of my time and energy for fewer and fewer delights and rewards. Still, I don't know when my next artistic gig, or my next professional gig, or my next professional artistic gig, will be.

I am happy for the ones who are enjoying successes and new beginnings.

I just wish I could see mine.

waiting rooms

Times when doctors should make an EXTRA SPECIAL EFFORT to stick to the appointment time and not keep you waiting:

When you've been asked to come in with a full bladder.

totally schmaltz

I cannot begin to tell how much I love my kids.

bad day

Today has been a rough day. I am working on steeling myself for tomorrow; I want to do what I can to make it a better day.

Tomorrow I go with my mom to her internist.

She now has: her regular doctor, Dr. T; her cardiologist, Dr. Hometown; her neurosurgeon, Dr. BreakfastPastry; her infectious disease specialist, Dr. IForgetHisName; her abdominal surgeon, Dr. Bunnies; and her internist, Dr. UsedToSWorkForHim.

I hope I haven't forgotten anyone.

setting the house in order

I am cleaning out files. I have sorted through the files from Richard (of blessed memory) and discarded extras and sorted out my mementos and separated out archival materials for the troupe to retain now that I have retired.

I have sorted though two of our file drawers. I have filled 6 bags for paper recycling. I have filled a file crate of memories for me and a file crate of archives for the troupe.

And two of our file drawers are now organized.

Some of this activity is painful. I came across the bulky file that details- since it all took place in the context of a volunteer organization- my sudden and savage betrayal by someone I thought was a trusted friend.

Tax returns filed when we were-- economically challenged.

Some memories return that are bitter, some that are bittersweet, some that are sweet.

This process will take some time, but I have motivation now. My mom will probably be moving in with us this fall or winter. It's time to take stock, release the old, keep the best, release the rest, restock, renew.

lots of Lisas

When I was a girl, I only ever knew one other girl named Lisa.

Now, the name seems to be all over.

Especially in my theater adventures.

In 1997, in my youth theater club, we had me and 2 other moms named Lisa, and one child actor.

In 2000, when the teen troupe was founded, we had 3 moms and at least one youth named Lisa.

Now, in 2011, as I retire, we have past, present and future: I, founder and past director; a mom on the transition team; and a director for 2012.

Odd.

transitions are hard.

When giving birth, the "transition" phase is the most difficult. This is what I found at: http://www.birthsource.com/scripts/article.asp?articleid=228

****

Transition is the most difficult phase of labor for most women; however, it is also the shortest phase generally lasting ½ hour to 1½ hours in length.

Physically, mom is experiencing contractions 2-3 minutes apart, lasting 60-90 seconds, and are very strong in intensity. Contractions may even "piggy-back" which means one contraction may start to fade away and another one comes along immediately. ..

Emotionally, mom can become restless, irritable, discouraged, and confused. She may find that she focuses inward as she works with her labor. She may have a hard time communicating her wishes. This is the point in labor when she usually needs the most support...

Remind her to take one contraction at a time and not to give in to the panicky feelings. If Mom Panics: call her by name, take her face in your hands, develop and maintain eye contact, breathe with mom or talk her through the contraction, try variations in breathing patterns, and give lots of reassurance that she is near the end!

****

If we read "contractions" as "extreme and sometimes involuntary exertions" this may be read as description and advice for transitions of all types.

Transition is, indeed, the most difficult type of work. But there is no getting around it- in order to change, grow, move forward, one must go *through* the transition. It would be nice if this intense phase was also the shortest, but I am not convinced this is the case.

And the waves of effort and exertion- the contractions- often DO seem to piggy-back, one on top of another. Just now, as I am trying to push past my feelings of ownership and rejection of my theater troupes, of my university teaching position, I am also feeling the pressures of family responsibilities to my children- not yet settled or secure, for whom I ache- and to my mother, for whom I am now (in October of 2011- it is taking me a while to write this post) the primary caregiver.

I do find that I am irritable, restless, discouraged, confused. I have a hard time communicating my wishes - you bet- and I keep losing focus- where am I headed? When will this end?

And yes, I could use a lot of support just now.

I hope I can remember to take just one contraction at a time, and have faith that something new and wonderful awaits- in just a little while, if I can just keep pushing through...

what a weight off...

gee, I hope that it does work out that way... as I am making a big change, closing one chapter of my life... I find that I am POOPING!!! a lot!!!

Wonder if literally there is a weight off...

If I am letting "go"...

Or, if I am just "relieved" to be home and away from the porta-potty.

In America, they haven't spoken it for years...

Ah, my beloved language- how I miss you! I am wrapping up the directing of yet another one of Shakespeare's plays while also keeping current on the social media. As I listen to Shakespeare's words, I reflect on the variety and richness of the language.

And then I check out Facebook:

From today:
One woman posted that she was in an elevator with a group of professional women, all similarly dressed in business attire, except that they were all wearing flip-flops and carrying a "bag of heals".

I asked if they were medicine bags?

Another poster said, in order to compliment the beauty of someone in a photo, that the poster was "drulling" over them.

I am wondering if this is a new verb, or if we are shifting to spelling "drooling" this way?

Don't even get me started on the demise of the word "than"! Apparently, "then" needs the overtime pay.