extra! extra! read all about it!

just saw david ride by on his red moped/vespa/whatever thingie. no, i'm not going to blog without using punctuation, etc. just needed to warm up a bit before tackling today's post.

ok, one more neighborhood thingie - d just dropped off her air conditioner. 3, 3, let's sing a song about 3! 3 air conditioners. we're ready to rock and roll. thank you, d!

At 6:13am with the radio blaring, I turned my head to confirm that I would not be leaving at 7am. The jury was still out about whether or not I'd leave the house. I went back to bed for another twenty minutes. This went on for a couple more times, then M*A*S*H* was on directed by Harry Morgan, so I decided to watch that while continuing to lay in bad with thoughts of maybe going to the Open Extras Casting Call.

I was pretty sure I'd be going because I'd bought a Blackhawks t-shirt, and it's been a long time since I spent over $2.50 on a t-shirt. What was I going to do with a washed and stretched Blackhawks t-shirt if I didn't go? It would be a constant reminder of the failure.

OK, so I didn't need to be there til 11am, and it went to 4:30pm; and the mission was to get me out the door and on my way.

I'm very happy to report that my daughter's "Happy Birthday to You" song was sung to her while driving down to the city. I got to talk to my oldest granddaughter, too. Well, that was just wonderful. I signed off and continued to drive to the Chicago Academy for the Arts building arriving around 10:30am. Drove back and forth deciding where I would park and opted for the gravel parking lot behind the animal hospital. No signs! Seemed to be a good spot.

A good looking older man pulled up in his Blackhawks jersey. We exchanged pleasantries, and walked to the end of the line which was right in front of the animal hospital with a beautiful liver-colored lab tied up in front.

People were quiet for the most part. We waited. I read my Frank Zappa book. A woman came by and told us to have the forms she was handing out filled out by the time we got inside. That was the beginning of a most fortuatious meeting.

"May I borrow a pen?" the woman behind me asked.

"Sure," I replied thinking that it was a good thing I'd packed four pens.

"May I?" asked a gentleman behind her.

"Sure," I replied and continued digging in my bag for all my pens because I saw another guy motioning that he'd like one.

If filling out a form can be interesting, this is simply because I turned into a woman while filling it out. It was all over Bust/Waist/Hips. Dang! There I was feeling like a doofus for not taking my measurements before going especially considering my training! To top it off, I was embarrassed about what measurements are even in approximation. About nine months ago I took my measurements, so I couldn't be far off. I had to take my measurements for my daughter's wedding and for some nice business suits for interviews. I had a good internal chuckle at me, and turned to the woman next to me.

"Do yo mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No," she responded.

"Well, we seem to be about the same size, and I was wondering if you know what your measurements are."

"Oh," she chuckled and showed me her form, "I left it blank. You don't think we'll be disqualified for that, do you?"

We both chucked and continued talking. We introduced ourselves, and by Norma's request; got each other's phone numbers. We were both Open Extras Casting Call "virgins." I told her everything I knew from bugging my son, Justin, and doing research on the web. My vintage bag, that my mom can't figure out why she gave me and my daughter wants, was packed with everything I could think that I needed and maybe someone else would need, too. My Blackhawks shirt was on with my black bell bottoms and green hiking shoes from Blaine's Farm & Fleet. I relaxed. So did Norma. I made her laugh. I love making people laugh with my self-depricating humor and honest interaction. From the heart, ya know?

Soon we were standing about seven feet from the door. My Frank Zappa Book had been replaced with my green folder containing my picture, the form and both resumes. We were directed into the building by another nice looking gentleman. We were told to go downstairs where we were told that people in Blackhawks stuff were to go to one side, and street clothes people to the other. Well, thank goodness Norma and I went out last night and bought Blackhawks shirts!

The woman checking us in was wearing a black and white striped tank with jeans. She was beautiful and curvatious. She was flying covering the front desk and filling the staplers. She was also keeping a mental note of what number she was on. Everybody's form got a number. Mine was B127, and Norma's was B128.

We had our pictures taken with our Blackhawks gear on and number showing below the .... hawk which basically means below my breasts. I saw the look of discomfort on the photographers face. He made me laugh and relax. I'm sure the picture is goofy.

When I got done with that, I got a bit scared. Norma wasn't to be seen. It was just an instant, though.

"There you are! There's my buddy. I'm working on the buddy system, now."

We laughed and made our way up to the front of the line with our forms, pictures, and resumes stapled together. We were both going over the instructions we'd received regarding casting the movie. They need reliable cars! We were also asked if we had any medical, police, or military background. Unfortunately, I do not have a working dog.

Soon, I was up a the front of the line. I handed in my paperwork and received a handout in return. I followed the people in front of me to the exit door. To the EXIT DOOR! Wow! That was quick. I looked down at the handout and read, "One day of work...." Just by showing up in a Blackhawks t-shirt, I got ONE DAY of work!

I went back to gather Norma who was standing patiently in front of the two beautiful women checking people out. I waited in the doorway trying to make myself as small as possible.

"Is that it?" I heard Norma say.

"Yes, you can go," one of the women responded nicely.

Norma came walking out just as dazed as I had been.

"Did you read it?" I asked.

"What?"

"The letter. We've got ONE DAY of work! I got a day of work! Wow! I can't tell you how long it's been since I felt that! Wow," I went on and on.

Norma just chucked at me and at her own good fortune. Not bad for two Open Extras Casting Call virgins. We were delighted and made plans to keep in touch, go to the Transformers Open Casting Call together, and go to the United Center for our Blackhawks game sometime between July 21st & 23rd, or maybe even all three days. We were giggly, over-the-moon happy. By this time we were beside my car. Norma and I said our good-byes, and she walked across the field to her car.

I got in my car, put the key in the ignition, and heard nothing. Nothing. No turn-over. Nothing.

My heart sunk. I started thinking. Norma! I called her cell phone.

"Norma? It's Michelle. Do you have jumper cables by any chance?"

"What? Oh. Let me pull over. I think I might. I'll call you back."

While I waited, I figured out how to get the hood open, checked out the battery, checked the oil, and read the Owner's Manuel to see what kind of oil the car took. The oil light came on besides the car not turning over, and I thought it looked very low.

Norma pulled up, and went to her trunk. She had the cutest little red bag with the cutest pair of jumper cables still in their wrapping. We figured out that she needed to park her car so it was facing mine.

Just about then, another good-looking young man called from the fence, "Ladies? Do you need some help?"

"Uh Huh," I called back in my best three-year-old little girl voice.

He laughed and headed towards us. His name was Josh. Kudos to Josh for being willing to be a good samaritan. I told him that he was there for moral support when he showed up. I knew how to hook up the jumper cables and taught Norma how to while I was doing it.

Unfortunately, the car did not turn over. Nothing.

As Josh talked about just having his alternator replaced, Norma asked me what I wanted to do. We discussed my options with Josh and Norma making a good argument for having the car towed. It was convincing, but I wasn't quite ready. Josh said his good-bye with our blessing. I was perfectly willing to find a store or gas station to see if adding some oil would help, but Norma didn't want to leave me.

"Unless you're a mechanic ...," said Norma.

I looked up at her, fully aware that my son was in Wisconsin, it was my daughter's birthday, and I didn't have a clue who to call; but it was time to secure the vehicle and move on.

GOOD LORD IN HEAVEN! A bird just pooped on my son's computer! This may be a sign! (There's another story there.)

It's getting chilly, and I'm sitting outside with my Blackhawks t-shirt, some khaki shorts, my Wisconsin flip-flops, and the lovely, green, fleece shawl that my Mom gave me - on. Bird poop on the computer! ... and no napkins in sight.

There is more to the story, though. Much, much more. Could be that there will be two posts on this day, May 22, 2010.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, CHICKLET! I did all this for you! More on that later, too.

AND ...

I've found my fashion havens! Well, I knew about Tarjay, but Blaine's Farm & Fleet is a recent discovery.

Have to insert a big "Thank You" to Mom for introducing me to Willow Ridge!

Come back for the second installment of "extra! extra! read all about it!"

Please Forgive Me ...

There is a wonderful young woman celebrating her Golden Birthday today, and I have let her down. My tribute to Ms. Brit will be done when I feel better and have more time. Until then, Happy Birthday, Ms. Brit! I know you did a stellar job tonight at your play opening. Love you tons & tons.

Folks, that's it til later tomorrow. I'm wiped. Tomorrow is a HUGE Day, so I'm going to be "smarter than the average bear" and get to bed. I'll fill everyone in on my activities when I get home tomorrow.

It is 11:11pm. I always like that time, so here's to a wonderful tomorrow for everyone, but especially my first born on her birthday and me on my adventure.

I'M TERRIFIED! SCARED BEYOND BELIEF! YOU WANNA TALK THE MOTHER OF ALL ANXIETY ATTACKS?!

to bed, to bed
to rest my whirling head

Anxiety Attacks Suck

Durwood's Glen Shrine (Photo: Forward @ 50)

What's more to say. Spent the majority of the day shaking. This is happening more frequently, and I think it's due to being unemployed for so long and wanting to see my daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren more. The consistent failure to land a job after interviewing is really getting to me. Nothing new there. Wanting to see my daughter's family more is constant, too, even though I understand all the reasons that I can't right now. It's hard living so close; and yet, being so far away. I'm doing my best to be understanding and not place any more pressure and stress on them. My daughter and son-in-law are working so hard to make a good life for themselves and their children. I just have my desires to deal with. I focused so much of my attention on raising my children that now that I have to find my own life I'm out of my comfort zone. Besides, I always dreamed of being the appropriately helpful, non-interfering, lovable mother and mother-in-law who is there with some food, many hugs and kisses, lots of time to listen, and whatever they needed me to do. It's harder than I imagined to do what they need me to do which is understand that I can't see them as much as I would like.

In spite of all of this, my mood is basically fine. I'm just shaking. I've eaten pretty well today, too. It's just really strange to shake, become immobile, and wait to see when it will pass without being able to make it stop. It can be downright annoying, frustrating, and demoralizing. I always think to myself that I'm weak for not being able to control these things. I get mad at myself and focus intently on stopping the shaking, but it doesn't work. Most of the time I can push through it, but this has prompted me to go ahead and see if I can get a doctor's appointment with the county health department to see what to do. Last I checked, I can get an appointment in about a month. No insurance means that I haven't seen a doctor in over a year. Except for a cat bite, an ear ache, and now more frequent anxiety attacks; I'm fine. Well, I am morbidly obese and smoke, so ... I guess it's a matter of perspective.

Sorry so boring. I know there are bunches of people who are struggling while looking for work, so if this helps anyone feel as though they're not alone that's GREAT! I sincerely believe that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I just haven't found the tunnel yet. (rim shot! - ha, ha! a joke!) Hang in there my fellow strugglers and survivors. I'm rooting for all of us. I know it's hard and giving up seems so appealing at times. We just can't. We just need to rest, eat well, and keep plugging away. My heart goes out to all of you and to me, too. I don't have any answers, but for what it's worth; I'm here and hoping for a brighter future for all.

I'm headed to bed to rest and wait for a phone call from my son telling me that he has arrived at his grandparents' home safely. Hopefully, I'll feel a lot better in the morning. I have a two busy days coming up and will have to push ahead. Two things are going through my mind; The Little Engine That Could and song lyrics, "... put one foot in front of the other..." Not bad, huh.

I'm also going to be concentrating on sending good vibes to my son-in-law's mother. She may have had a heart attack today. She's in the hospital now. Here's to a good prognosis and her speedy recovery. I'd love to be able to help her in some way. Really.

Moving Right Along ...

Sunrise Over Lake Michigan - (Photo: Forward @ 50)

So yesterday I was furious (for good reason). Today I am tired and content. Last night's conversation cleared the air quite well. YAY!

I am going to miss my son when he moves on with his life. He is outside working on my daughter's birthday present as I write. YAY! After she has it, I'll be able to write more about that. She's been known to read this thing.

I was up at 7:30am, showered, cleaned the kitchen, ran the dishwasher, made a few business calls, and just finished doing a favor for my neighbor. All in all a very good start to a new day after about four hours of sleep. Ouch. LOL

JOB: Rejected by Ravinia. :(:(:( ... and ... favorite possible nanny position not open until Fall, after all. Might be able to do some occasional babysitting. I was told to keep in touch. Not bad. I am getting prepared for my interview on May 22nd, my daughter's birthday. (Post will be in the evening with news and accolades.) I'm on the fence about the other nanny position. I'm in the process of developing a babysitting business IF the people who have interviewed me for full-time positions use me for occasional sitting. The economy is hitting everyone. Pink slips are flying and hours are being reduced all around, still. Just in case you didn't know. It's rough out in "JOB HUNT LAND."

WEIGHT/HEALTH: I've had an apple that tasted TOO GOOD this morning and coffee. Ran around with a 2 year old and a 4 year old for my exercise. Got my 15 minutes of early morning sun, too. Have you heard the new reports on getting sun before 10am and after 2pm? It's good for people to do this for the vitamin D. OK ... La, La, La, La, La. Will eat well today because I've been cooking healthy food. Leftovers here I come! More moving with housework, too; so I am not a complete slug, really.

CHEERING UP: Yep. Basically anything short of death would be cheering up after yesterday. OH MAN was I MAD ... and SAD. sigh. Glad that ended with a healthy outcome thanks to years of working on talking with my son. It does take years, you know. Very proud of both of us. It's very hard and scary to be brutally honest about our feelings while minding basic conversational rules. Listening is ever so important. Choice of words and tone is important, too. Having the courage to be honest, though, even if it's totally messed up, is what makes or breaks the deal. Oh, and you have to stay in the room. No walking away. I'm real sensitive to having people walk away because that was my ex's method of dealing with me and any problems we had. He did things that were much worse, but he was consistent with the walking out of the house and driving away leaving me with the children. Hmmmmm. When he wiped out the bank account and abandoned us, I wasn't too surprised after the initial mind-blowing, heart-breaking shock that reduced me to a pile on the floor. More about that in a later post. It will be titled, "The Three Rules."

SMOKING: LORD HELP ME! I am smoking. I do not smoke around children, or even let them see me; but I'm starting to think I'll never kick the habit and have lung cancer to "look forward to." I know this pains many of you, and I'm sorry. I think I need to be put away for about three months to really do this thing. I also will need a padded cell. Yep. That might work. Maybe.

Lunch and a nap, then I'll be hitting the house and the job hunt some more. Nothing extremely exciting. Just wanted to let everyone know that I really am focused on moving forward and haven't fallen completely off the path.

Have a good day, Everyone! :D

It's OK To Be Mad

I'm mad. I'm downright furious.

I remember my favorite basketball player, Bryan Luce, used to play better when he was mad. The coach, Steve Proctor, realized this and used it to his advantage. Coach Proctor would purposefully get Bryan mad if he wasn't playing well. It worked every time. Bryan would go out on the court and tear it up. It was brilliant to behold.

With this in mind, I'm off to do the nastiest of jobs that I can imagine. I will be doing this job alone. Typical.

Not much more to say except, "How much is one person supposed to take in their lifetime? How long do they allow themselves to be a doormat for the people they love the most? How long is life worth living under these circumstances? I'm so sick and tired of living a horrific lie. I'm so sick and tired of all the bullshit. It hurts too much, so to protect myself from the pain; I'll get good and mad."

Bit of advice: Appreciate the people who love you, give all they have to you, and make sacrifices to make your life easier. They may not be there one day when you need them the most. Just a few words of caution.

As far as I can see, and I've looked very deeply and very hard; I've made my amends and done whatever I could to beg forgiveness for my mistakes. I forgiven trespasses that many would never forgive. Why then does the bullshit persist? Remember, it hurts too much. I'm doing my best not to break, but it's getting harder and harder; more painful than I can take.

OK, off to tear into this terrible task. No feeling sorry for myself. No self pity. Just pure rage. It's about time!

Here's to angry tears, screaming grief, and ungodly pain all due to unwarranted rejection and ridicule.

40! - Happy Syttende Mai! - Happy Anniversay, Cathy & Chris!

40 is cool. I liked my 40's. This is my 40th Post!

Wave the flags!

It's Syttende Mai, at least it still is in the USA. It's past Syttende Mai in Norway. Hope everyone had as good a day as I had. Stellar.

Happy 28th Anniversary, Cathy & Chris! Twenty-Eight Years! The world is a better place because of you two. Proud to know you.

I'm going to eat a bit of turkey loaf with sweet peppers, sweet onion, garlic, spices and Sweet Baby Ray's on top! Sweet! I gave my friends meat & veggies for their anniversary dinner. It's the least I could do. They've fed me great food so many times.

Cathy walked our yard with me, and we did a thorough assessment. :D

We sat in our garage and laughed and talked and .... well, that's what we did. First time in 16 years.

I have impressed my friend, and hopefully, craft/garden/whatever night can start again soon. Could turn into a study night, too. :D

In any case, that's it for tonight. No pics. Short - Sweet - To The Point.

May each of you have as good a day as I just had at some time in your lives again. Sweet dreams.

If I Do This ...

... will that happen?

"What If" is a game that I became aware of while watching Sesame Street. I used to watch a lot of Sesame Street with my children. I'd watched it before. It premiered on November 10, 1969.

Wikipedia Entry for Sesame Street - (and yep - cut & paste - to read about the Carnegie Institute, Joan Ganz Cooney, Jim Henderson, and many others who intelligently created a new genre of educational television for children. NOTE: "Cooney suggested creating a program that would spread prolearning values to both viewers and nonviewers (including their parents) that would affect them for many years after they stopped watching it.") - GOAL MET.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sesame_Street

Like I said, "I never know exactly what will come out of the fingertips when I start to write these things." Wasn't exactly expecting Sesame Street, but it does play in.

One of my dream jobs was to work for Sesame Street and/or The Children's Television Workshop. I've only dreamed about it. I don't like the current turn that Sesame Street has taken, but it's not entirely terrible. I also wish it was on more often. Strange, huh. Wanting a show on more often (and at better times) when I don't like it as much as I did before. Sesame Street has definitely had a lasting, effective affect on me and countless others.

As time has progressed, I've found that I've fallen in love with little kids again. Their joy and innocence is addicting. How they learn and so quickly! Little sponges running around sucking it all up. It's after they squeeze something out from that sponge that they learn about filtering. What is OK to say. What is not. Behavior; good, bad and so-so. Experiencing this process can be exhilarating. It is exhausting, too. Children force me to be aware of my words and deeds, and I like that. I am not afraid of children.

I've been in love with TV for a long time. The combination of TV and Early Childhood Education was and is brilliant. At one hour in total length cut up into many vignettes, Sesame Street provided me with many opportunities to interact with my children throughout the show. We laughed when we watched Sesame Street and while we retold the stories we had seen. We discussed lessons like "What If" a lot. We talked about all the characters, and why we liked them. Well, before my children could talk, I talked about all the characters, and why I liked them a lot. One of my favorite characters was "The 'A' Machine."

People are constantly griping about TV being used as a babysitter, and I stand proudly guilty as charged. I plopped my kids down to watch Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers. If I had the time, I plopped down with them. If I didn't, I constantly checked in on them and stayed for a moment or two. One of my favorite memories of my son is because of a moment when he was watching Sesame Street just like "A Guy."

Imagine if you will, a two year old boy propped up on his daddy's pillow, laying in his parents bed, watching Sesame Street; one arm bent with his hand behind his head, the other bent with his hand hooked in under his waist band.

"No. No, no. No, no, no," I thought, "What am I going to say? Oh My God! No!"

"Honey, what are you doing? Are you having fun?" I said.

No response.

"Dear. Take your hand out from your waist band, please," I continued, "Gentlemen don't sit like that."

"Huh?"

"Your hand, Sweetie. No not that one. The other one. That's it. Thank you."

I went off to the kitchen to continue my work and breathe while making gestures I didn't want my children to see. When I checked back later, he was at it again.

"Boo-Boo," I reminded.

He removed his hand. He was a pretty quick learner. He also didn't really like being called Boo-Boo. He got the nickname because of Yogi and Boo-Boo. My daughter was taller and took the lead. My son was smaller and followed while questioning the sanity of the decisions.

It's one of my favorite stories about my son. He just graduated from Film School. He's found his passion. His Senior Project was autobiographical; both funny and scary. He can be sloth-like. He can toil like an ox. He's still funny as hell, and to prove it -

Right now, I am listening to him make sounds in the shower; weird yawning, waking up sounds. I swear I heard singing.

He's still "a guy." I've raised me "A Man!" I don't correct him too much anymore. Besides, I consider myself lucky. I only know as much as I do about my son because he still lives with me. His bedroom is his sanctuary, so I butt out.

I even understand, "What?! It's warm." Used to gross me out so bad! Ewwwwww. Now, I've learned the joys of the waist band and the hand(s). It is warm and so perfectly proportional. I've learned many things from my son, and he's learned a lot from me because of Sesame Street.

I wonder if there's a parent and/or teacher out there who has their students make sock puppets or stick puppets, so that their character can give a presentation on a letter or number - to start. That's a pretty basic idea that's good for the ages. Seems I had a teacher, or was it a parent or grandparent, that did that. When I see my granddaughter again, I'll have to have some socks, material, yarn, buttons, needles, thread and glue available. I think I made puppets with my kids. I don't know. Seems laundry lent itself to a few silly sock situations. I have a vague memory of a blind, white newt doing a comedic bit.

If I do this will that happen? It's good to think before doing something. It's good to think while doing something. It's good to have rules that change. It's good to find compromise. It's good to play while working. Talking and laughing are two of the best healing forces around.

My son's girlfriend and I had stressful days yesterday. Off in our own worlds, we shared a certain emotional intensity due to dissimilar situations. My son and I listened to her. My son and she listened to me. My son interjected humor. We did not respond. I offered an affirmation. She responded and started laughing while saying it because my son started offering other voices she could say it with. She turned the table on me with an affirmation, and my son offered a voice. Off we went with our venting/healing session. We are so lucky.

We finished up the evening sharing pet stories. Most of them were funny, and that felt so good. Anytime a story became a bit too serious, we became aware and switched focus to funny, without stating it specifically, understanding that the hour was late and there really was nothing more to be done except laugh, get some rest, and wake up to a new day. Of course, we talked and laughed for hours and stayed up way too late again, but we all went to bed a bit happier and more relaxed; or so I want to believe.

It takes a long time and lots of approaches to get something right. For instance:

My son is now headed out. Before leaving, he walked toward me with his arms outstretched for our hug. My son pretty much always does this. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, I'm receptive. This time before he arrived at my side, I already had my arms outstretched towards him. How lucky am I? I'm luckier than you know because before leaving, without any prompting, my son just "did the trash." Amazing. It's taken a long time and lots of approaches to get it right.

If I do this will that happen? It's such a good game, "What If."

Majestic Prince

Wikipedia Entry - Majestic Prince
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Majestic_Prince

Yep. You'll have to do a cut and paste for that link, too. I figure I'm going to learn the whole linking thing when one of my friends tells me how to do it, or I take the Web Development and Design class that starts on June 8th.

I never completely know what will come out of the fingertips when I start these things. Sometimes I don't even know the topic til I've signed in. Sometimes I know the topic, but the story changes as I'm writing. If you've been reading this thing, you've discovered that I can write a lot or a little. It all depends on so many factors. Here we go.


MAJESTIC PRINCE - Winner: 1969 Kentucky Derby & Preakness Stakes. 2nd Place: Belmont Stakes. Bill Hartack, Jockey.


In 1969, crouched in front of the Family Room TV was a little girl of 9 years. Her hair was long and blond. Her body was slim and fit.

Her nose 10 inches from the screen, she cheered in a whisper, "Come on! Come On! Go! Go! Go!"

By the end of The Kentucky Derby, the little girl could no longer contain herself. Her voice raised and she found herself bouncing up and down, pounding on the carpet with her fists.

"What are you doing?" her dad whined, rolling over on the couch; waking up from his nap.

The little girl pointed at the TV, "Majestic Prince just WON The Kentucky Derby! See!" she continued as the Instant Replay started.

"Oh," the groggy grouch replied, "Well, keep it down."

Shirking her shoulders in that "Oops Kinda Way", but not taking her eyes off the Instant Replay; the little girl continued to watch and listen as her dad fell back to sleep oblivious to the amazing Majestic Prince and the love affair that was forming between his daughter and all things Triple Crown.

Not to worry, though. Soon the little girl's entire family would know. After all, they had years of living together ahead, and the little girl was only nine years old.


CANONERO II - 1971 Kentucky Derby & Preakness Stakes Winner. Gustavo Avila, Jockey.

It would be a few years until the little girl saw the wonders of a true Triple Crown Winner, but she lived the disappointment of Majestic Prince's Second Place finish in the Belmont. Cannonero II's Fourth Place hurt less.


SECRETARIAT - 1973 Triple Crown Winner. Ron Turcotte, Jockey.

By the time Secretariat came along, the little girl was thirteen. She was no longer a child. She was a young lady who still loved The Triple Crown. From the moment she saw Secretariat, she thought of her beloved Majestic Prince. It was the white blaze and color, but "Big Red" did have a more beautifully colored coat. She couldn't deny it. She started to fall in love. It didn't hurt that he shared his "Big Red" nickname with Man O' War, either.


SECRETARIAT wearing his blinkers.

When she saw him step onto the race track, she was baffled and a bit mad. His white blaze was covered by blinkers. Majestic Prince hadn't needed blinkers.

"Hmmmmm," she thought, "We'll see."


SECRETARIAT Book Cover

When she saw him run, she lost her heart. It rode down the track with him.

"I wish I was a jockey," the already too tall, little girl thought.

She accepted this plight while watching horse racing for years to come. As she grew, so did her knowledge of the sport. As she aged, her awareness of the dangers, pit-falls, and inequity of the sport became more apparent.

She still can't take herself away from the sheer beauty, though. The Triple Crown is celebrated every year with a quiet reverence. Well, it's quiet until race time, at least.


MAN O' WAR - 1920 Preakness & Belmont Stakes Winner. Clarence Kummer, Jockey. (Not entered in the Kentucky Derby)



WAR EMBLEM - 2002 Kentucky Derby & Preakness Stakes Winner. Victor Espinoza, Jockey.


There's only one time in history that she's been absolutely sure which horse was going to win The Kentucky Derby. His lines went back to Man O' War. War Emblem was a long shot at 40-1. She agonized for hours about driving up to OTB (Off Track Betting) to place a bet, but couldn't bring herself to do it because of her maternal, biological grandfather's dismal gambling history and the fact that she wanted to place a $500 bet. She wasn't just satisfied with placing a $20 bet. If she was going to drive up and do it, it would be for $500; or what was the point. Oh silly woman. Still, had she placed that bet, would The Universe have shifted? Would War Emblem have lost? We'll never know.

What we do know is that the sport is still pure for the woman in spite of on track injury and death. In spite of horrifying practices by jockeys, trainers, owners, vets, and criminals; for the woman, the sport has the purity of youth, new beginnings, and intimate love affairs. It is hers. It is hers alone in her family. No one gets as excited about The Triple Crown as she does. She gets to lead with this one. She gets to educate, learn and share this passion with her family and the world like an angel enveloping their beloved in their wings. It is still her wish that she could throw her beloveds up in the air and watch as they magically grow their own wings. She knows the joy of this experience. She learned it from Majestic Prince and committed to it with Secretariat.

She also knows that if she ever has that "War Emblem Feeling" again, she's placing a "budget-friendly" bet; whatever that is.

So here's to 2010, Super Saver and Calvin Borel. Will they do it? She doesn't know, but she'll be watching starting at 3:30pm CST on NBC.


SUPER SAVER - 2010 Kentucky Derby Winner. Calvin Borel, Jockey.

TGIF

Three job interviews down. Kitchen cleaned. "The Fabulous Baker Boys" and "The Blind Side" watched. Even did a bit of knitting this week. Shoulder SORE! Still NEED to do FAFSA tonight or tomorrow because the deadline is May 15th.

I've had "The Blind Side" looping since I put it into the DVD player too late last night. I finished watching it as the sun rose and the birds chirped led by the Cardinal. Oops.

All responsibilities met. Time to sleep.

Sweet dreams and all my best. More later.

Oh, and just for the record; Sammy, our female cat, is sprawled out by my feet. She's gotten quite fond of the heat from the laptop and me, I guess. She's also become much more verbal. Bless her. To think, she dang-near died when she was first adopted. Now she is a living, breathing pillow who just wants to be loved. She's so funny when she gets to playin' with something. She is the definition of "rolly-poley." I always wanted a Calico Cat. I once heard that all Calico cats are female. Wonder if that's true.

Oh, and my son has been researching gardening techniques. :D He's excited. Wow!

Night.

Highland Park Girls Basketball

On May 12th at 5:58am, Chicago Breaking News Center reported that the Highland Park Girls Basketball team will not be attending a tournament in Arizona next season.

The article I read before Sarah Palin got into the picture:

http://www.chicagobreakingnews.com/2010/05/highland-park-basketball-team-trip-to-arizona-scrapped.html

(still trying to figure out how to do links on this thing, so you'll have to cut & paste, if you want to read it.)

As I read the article, I couldn't control the memories of my time as a parent of HPHS students, nor could I control the memories of my time as the Girls Basketball Youth Traveling Team's Assistant Coach. They exploded. "Yay! and Yuck!"

I had the good fortune to be chosen to be the Assistant Coach for "the best group of girls to come along in years" for two years. The first year it was for free. The second year I got $250 and a polo. I only mention that because, the $250 and polo kept me from quitting many times. Dang materialist tendencies and need for money. LOL

As a side note, I hated many aspects of coaching and don't know how my dad did it for so many years. I do understand how he got three ulcers in three years, and it was NOT the kids or even his coaching duties. I'd also like to add that I was not a good coach, nor am I cut out for anything other than teaching the basics and making sure the children understand the fun and fundamentals of basketball. I do not have the competitive nature, nor do I possess the strategic mind with which to win games. I am so into the beauty and emotion of the sport that my mind is clouded by just taking all that in during games. I was a good Assistant Coach that hated it when she was put in the position of coaching a game because the Head Coach couldn't make it.

I do not know any of the current Girls Basketball Team members, Coaching staff, School Officials, and parents. I am taking this time to relate a few of my experiences with my players, parents, children, and Coaching Staff AND a few lessons learned that came through embarrassment, struggle, heartbreak, and pride.

Let's get to the quick of it. Emily tried out for the seventh grade team and brought a friend. You know what happened. Emily didn't make the team and her friend did. Emily was the far better player, but her friend had height. Only twelve players could make the team. Thirteen tried out. THIRTEEN TRIED OUT!

Terry, the Traveling Team Head Coach, told me that he and the High School Head Coach, Jon, had discussed the try-outs; and that, Jon had decided to cut Emily. I was outraged and heartbroken. We discussed the decision and decided to wait to tell Emily until I had a go with Jon.

Questioning the Head Coach's decision presented a huge bag of bug-a-boos for me. My dad had been a Head Coach. I'd gone through the turmoil of an Assistant Coach who questioned my dad's capabilities and tactics. He had done this through petitions and newspaper articles, and I had no intention of going that far. I'd heard my dad's side and explanation about a whole slew of issues from human interaction to "don't take things personally" to "he wants my job." I still hate, yeah hate, Mike O'Connell for his actions. I certainly didn't want to be "Like Mike", but, "Come On!"

I failed to sway Jon with all my practical arguments about it being seventh grade meaning we could use extra players because of Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, how Emily's true talent as a Point Guard could help the team, and the indignity of putting Marilyn on the team because of her height when she only came because Emily brought her. Emily was the far better player, but I failed. Given my experience and beliefs, I accepted my failure and part of the responsibility for the upcoming difficult times.

I called Terry, told him what he already knew, and he agreed to call Emily and her parents even though I offered. I'd known Emily ever since we got Milo and had to tell her that she couldn't have him. I'd always liked Emily since then. Her parents were nice, too. I did tell Terry to have Emily and her parents call me if they wanted to. They did.

My conversation with her dad was one of the hardest conversations I've ever had. I explained that I thought it was the wrong decision; and that, as an Assistant Coach I was bound by personal beliefs to uphold this poor decision. I expressed my remorse. I asked if Emily wanted to talk to me, but she was too upset.

"Please tell Emily what I've said," I told him, "Please tell her that we KNOW she's a good player and will get better. Please tell her to try out again next year. Tell her to remember that Michael Jordan didn't make his eighth grade team."

The season that ensued was wonderful, but we suffered for this decision in exactly the ways that Terry and I had told Jon that we would. We soldiered on. I saw some of the most amazing basketball that I've ever seen in my life. We all learned, including Emily's friend, to be better members of a team and far more.

The next year with another invite to be the Assistant Coach, a promise of $250 for my efforts and a polo; I went to try-outs fully knowing that as soon as Emily's foot hit the court; she'd made the team. Terry and I agreed to do whatever it took to make it happen. When Emily walked into the gym, Terry and I looked at each other and smiled. We looked at Jon who was oblivious. We didn't tell Emily of our decision.

Whether or my daughter mentioned our predetermined decision to Emily, I don't know. Children will break confidences for their friends' sakes, so if she did; Kudos to her. If she didn't; Kudos to her.

The biggest Kudos goes to Emily for trying out again. I had no doubts that Emily was a fierce player. I had no doubts that she could hold her own with our star players. In fact, I recruited two more players to try out. One of them was Emily's back-up, and just a little less talented simply due to mental fortitude. Emily was strong. Emily showed her strength and more that day at try-outs. I know I betrayed my feelings for her when she walked in the door. I wanted to, discreetly. Don't know how discreet I was. Emily had a great try-out. Emily made the team because of her talent, not because of our predetermined decision.

The following season was dismal. It was the last season that I coached based on so many reasons, but mainly because I didn't enjoy the peripherals of coaching. Oh, to have those days back again in a perfect world. All the girls would've listened to me like Emily. All the girls would've showed the grounded, decision making capabilities combined with the abilities to react instantly to instruction. Emily was my favorite Point Guard because when I asked her to execute a Half-Court 1-2-2 Trap in the middle of a game when none of the other players would listen to me; she did it.

Not only did Emily execute the Zone Defense technique, she did so perfectly. She trapped the ball handler, stole the ball, raced down the court and made her uncontested lay-up more than once! I went nuts, regained my composure enough to instruct my distracted players to play instead of watching me. OH GOD! It was so hard to regain my composure and focus. I wanted to dance all over the court. I wanted to run around like a lunatic simply based on this one MAJOR accomplishment. Dang Coaching cutting into my joy at being RIGHT! Not only did Emily lead the way, the rest of the team followed when they saw that it worked and played to their strengths.

Ahhhhh. sigh. Relief. It felt so good to be publicly vindicated even if I made a fool of myself during the whole affair.

My dad was at that game. It's the only time he ever saw me coach. I had to coach because Terry couldn't make it. I didn't find out til about an hour before the game. It was at Stevenson High School where my brother was an All Conference Basketball player. My children were there, of course. I'd been struggling to sneak in a bit of Zone Defense all season because the girls were well aware that Jon was only going to run Man-to-Man Defense when they got to High School next year. We were losing every game this season. HELP!

After we lost the game by fewer points than before, my dad said, "You sure yell a lot."

I'd asked what he thought of my coaching. Ouch. I know I didn't tell him at the time what was going on, but let me correct that now.

"Dad. Yes. I did yell a lot, and I didn't like it at all until that moment when I lost it because the beauty and emotion of the game took over. I lost it, People. All the frustration of the season was released in that moment of absolute joy. Emily Bellefeuille provided me with my most beautiful moment in Basketball History."

"And Dad, just so you and everyone else knows; I got through so many experiences because you, like Emily's parents, gave me enough good stuff while raising me. The stuff had nothing to do with material possessions. It has a lot to do with taking responsibility, respect, joy, and insight. So many of your words (and Mom's words) have come out of my mouth throughout the years like, 'The best competition is with yourself. If each player brings their best to the court, the whole team is better for it.' Your honesty in the moment may be harsh at times, but you are receptive to discussion and not above apologizing when you make a mistake. That's just a bit of how my parents have contributed to my artistic soul."

Remember the people behind the decisions. Remember that if the children are lucky, they will learn from all experiences. Sometimes the most fruitful lessons come from overcoming bad decisions, or at least I hope so because I've been a party to some doozies.

Thank you, Emily. Thank you to Emily's parents. Thank you to Terry. Thank you to my parents. Thank you to my children for tagging along, keeping stats and managing.

My daughter wasn't good enough for the team, nor did she want to play. She took stats and helped me teach her brother how to keep stats. I did make my daughter practice with the team sometimes. She hated it. My son just ran around.

Guess I'll thank myself for two years of being involved in a pretty healthy activity and including my children. Thank you to all the members of the Park District of Highland Park's 1996 & 1997 Girls Basketball Youth Travel Team. Thank you to a few of the parents, but not all.

No thanks for Jon, yet. No thanks for Mike, yet, either. No thanks to a few choice parents. My nature is not so Pollyannaish (and I have been referred to as Pollyannaish many times) as to say that your decisions and behavior made me a stronger person even if they might be contributing factors because my ability to go forward is a product of an overactive survival instinct coupled with my own brand of "Make the World a Better Place" and "We may lose the game, but the season is not lost." The truth is your bad decisions and actions caused me a lot of pain that wasn't and isn't fun to deal with and has impeded my forward momentum more than helped it. With each passing year, I seem to get a little better at letting go, though. The memories will not go away. Please also understand that I don't let myself off the hook easily for my bad decisions and actions, either. I don't plan on starting to, either. My mistakes are pivotal in how I approach the world. I wish I hadn't made them, but because I have; I do my best to learn more quickly, be more compassionate, and well ... all y'all know all this, right?

Here's to the 2010 HPHS Girls Basketball Team and their Conference Championship! You did what my girls did not, and there were some amazing athletes among my girls. All my best to you in the following days and all your years to come.

How Did It Get Soooo Late?!

It is 11:03pm. My eyes hurt. The weather is cold and rainy. Body's a bit sore, too.

The last two days I've put in a lot of hours. I was up til 4am the last two nights, so it's no wonder that I'm a bit sore. No worries. Just been busy doing work and blog related stuff. I get lost in the computer when I'm on a roll. I'm sure I'm not unique in this one. Web Design and Development seems like a great choice for a Summer School class considering my interest/obcession.

I did go to the Ravinia Job Fair. It was OK. About 50 people applied for 10 positions. sigh Our interviewer said he'd been hearing all day that people have been out of work for over a year. I'm not really depressed about it. It's hard to get depressed about the possibility of not getting a job that pays $8/hour and would top out at 25-30 hours/week.

I have another interview tomorrow for a nanny position, and we'll see how that goes. Friday another interview for a nanny position, and we'll see how that goes. May 22nd is my big bug-a-boo day with an appointment downtown that I'm forcing myself to go to for my own good. As always, I'll let you know.

On the home front:

Duncan grilled in our garage tonight. Awesome cheeseburgers.

The place is looking better and better every day.

Got the go ahead on the ROTOTILLER from the landlord, so Farmer Michelle will be working hard next week. I'm so excited. I saw corn seeds at the store tonight. I want to plant corn! Asparagus, Sweet Peppers, Hot Peppers, Tomatoes, HERBS!, and who knows what else. I'm going for the pricey things that I like to eat. I'm hoping to have a Harvest Party in the Fall. Gotta have a goal!

I'm going to rest my eyes, but before I do; please indulge me this one last Kavetch - MY FRICKIN' "A" KEY IS STICKING! THIS IS THE BIGGEST LITTLE PAIN IN THE ARSE I'VE HAD IN AGES. RRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrr!!!!!!!!!

Thank you. Thank you very much.

Take care. Sweet dreams. All my best. Guess this is one of those boring posts, but still .... any gardening advice, open jobs, suggestions for post topics, and whatever you wish - is appreciated. :D

The Swell Season is Back!

The Swell Season - Heyday (Bonnaroo 2008) [a Mic Christopher cover]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VhWEQRXMUM

The Swell Season, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova of "Once" and "Falling Slowly" fame, stole my heart when I watched "Once" in the privacy of my own home. To date, I think it is the best little indie film to ever be made. The DVD is worth owning even if you've never seen it. I don't own it yet. I ate it up once when I rented it.

The Swell Season - Falling Slowly (Bonnaroo 2008)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKkDTuzahQA

(If you want to hear hear/see the performances, you'll have to copy and paste the address to your address bar in a new page ... I haven't figured out how to link to a site, yet. Working on it. :D ------> A HUGE THANK YOU TO YOUTUBE & the PEOPLE WHO POSTED THESE VIDEOS)

The Swell Season will be in concert at Ravinia Festival on July 14th. Of all the amazing artists on the schedule this year, I think this is the one concert I'd pay to be on the lawn for. $22 Lawn Tickets. sigh

How's that for a combined music and movie review along with a bit-o-promotion?


My tomorrow is busy. So is my today, but my tomorrow is actually scheduled with outside activities. Things are ramping up. Three set appointments for tomorrow. All job related. Then another on May 22nd, FOR SURE, DANG IT!

I just inserted a phone interview into today. :D Part II later tonight. :D Rockin' & Rollin'! ... and now my meet-and-greet has been rescheduled to 3:30 on Friday. Yippee! Half-Price Soy Strawberries and Cream Frappuccino for "Happy Hour"!

Off to find the photo printer because the camera card is full, and I have this amazing "Still Life" sitting next to me. I've been wanting to add some pics, and I know how to do that, basically. The photo printer is buried under a pile, I just know it. I really should do a "Clutter Still Life" collection. I think my piles are pretty artist, or at least defy physics.

OK, enjoy the musical interlude. I am. Do well. Smile. Here we go! "I've got to move it, move it!"

A quickie.

It's been an action packed weekend, so today's post is just this.  I'm a slug today.  No energy.  It's OK.  I've rested and done a bit of work stuff.  Tomorrow will be more productive.

Take care.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!

My mother is essentially a very private person.  She's been this way since she was a child for very good reasons.  To write about my love and admiration for my mother without disturbing her privacy will be hard, but out of respect for her; I'm going to do my best.

The details I can tell you about are related to me, I suppose.  She might be a bit upset with my choices, but she's likely to forgive me eventually.  So what else is new.  :D

To put almost fifty years of memories into one post is impossible.  It is also impossible to sum it all up in just one story, and a list of glories wouldn't even come close to doing her justice.

I love my mother because of how she raised me.  She raised me to be an independent thinker.  Unfortunately, this upbringing has come back to bite her in the butt.  I know this is an unexpected consequence that has frustrated her immensely over the years. 

Oh, that I could've been the "Preppy" daughter she dreamed of, but the world was too big and bold for simple "Preppy" fashions and beliefs; or at least, that's the way I saw it.  "Preppy" is a part of my fashion repertoire, but not the staple.  I did make a great "Preppy" one Halloween on Madison's State Street.  That was the best "Preppy" outfit I ever put together; white button-down shirt, straight-leg jeans, saddle shoes, hair pulled back in a pony-tail with perfectly curled bangs, and a white windbreaker with blue and red stripes on the ribbed collar and cuffs.  It was a tribute to Mom and all of her dreams for me; my nightmares.

She would've loved hearing my friends say, "Aren't you wearing a costume?" 

To which I replied, "I am!"

She would've been rolling her eyes and shaking her head just like they did.

One of the things I love about my mother is that she is "EveryMom."  When I talk to my friends, we all seem to end up talking about ways that our mothers drive us nuts.  We all know that we love and respect our mothers, BUT they drive us nuts.  She drives me nuts in some of the same ways that my friends' mothers drive them nuts.  She has provided a great bonding boulevard for me to follow.  She's not too bad.  She's not too good.  She's just right .... all of the time, if you ask her.  Just kidding, Mom.  Sort of.  :D

All teasing aside, mainly because she hates being teased; another reason I love my mom is because our relationship is constantly evolving.  As the years have progressed, we've changed together.  We still fight.  We still hug and kiss.  We still laugh together.  We still confide in each other.  We have just refined most of it. 

My language has become less refined over the years, but then again; so has hers!  The first time I heard my mom drop the "F-Bomb" in a casual, contemporary way; I nearly had a heart attack.  Seriously!  She laughed. 

I love my mom because she has a devilish side.  She likes to drive fast.  She really likes to drive fast. 

When my mom and dad were younger, they used to race home from Home Basketball games.  They had two cars because Dad would already be at school, and Mom and I would go to the game after we'd eaten something.  After the games, Mom and Dad would meet up somewhere in the gym, give each other a kiss, and decide on the race destination.  They would pick one destination to meet at before going home.  After agreeing on the mid-point destination, they would ask me who I wanted to ride with.  I usually picked Mom.  I knew she was fast and cunning.  We would take off from the high school with me in the back seat bouncing up and down cheering my driver on.  No, I was not wearing a seat belt.  Please.  One particularly good race had a gravel parking lot as a destination.  Mom blasted into it and skidded to a stop throwing up a cloud of dust.  She was so cool. 

Mom was so cool that we just used to hang out together all weekend in our pajamas.  That used to drive Dad nuts.  We didn't care.  We spent our weekend doing whatever we wanted; just the girls.  I don't remember what we talked about, but I do know we talked for hours.  I'm sure some of the subjects were fashion, politics, movies and movie stars, music, sports, and who knows what else.  Man, how we could talk.  It was so relaxing hanging out with my mom.  I loved it.  I loved our pajama weekends.

When I think back on all the years that I didn't talk to Mom either out of anger or ignorance, I love her to the point of tears because I know just a fraction of how much it hurt her and the toll it took on her.  I know because I'm a mom now, too.

Oh the many, many phone calls that started with, "I'm sorry."  The first time I called and said it, she was confused.

"What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently.

"Remember that time I told you that you were 'just a secretary' and how much it hurt you," I said, "Well, my daughter just told me that basically my job embarrasses her.  'Yeah, well, you're just a stupid Public Access Producer'."

"Oh," Mom said, "Yes.  That was mean of you."

"Yeah.  I'm sorry."

"Well, thank you.  your daughter's just being mean.  You can't take it personally.  I know it hurts, but you've got to show her that you're stronger than that.  You can't let her get away with things like that.  I didn't let you."

"No, you didn't, but you sure have waited a long time for an apology."

"I wasn't waiting, but thank you."

After that first call there were many, many, many more calls that started with the "I'm sorry" either because my daughter, my son or both brats had done something to hurt my feelings, and I didn't have a husband's shoulder to cry on.  Mom's "What did she do now" turned into "What did they do now."  Mom was my shoulder to cry on way back when and even today except I can't cry on her shoulder so much any more because I have to think of her health and what she can handle. 

Having just written that, I remember Mom saying the same thing about her mom.  My dear grandma drove her daughter nuts sometimes, too; but Mom loved her so much.  When the time came that Mom had to put Grandma's health before her own needs and desires, Mom turned to me.  That's when we really started getting close again.  That and when I became a mom.

I love my mom because as I look at the totality of human existence and the existence of women in particular, I am consoled that she and I are walking a path that is as old as time itself for the lucky.  We are a couple of cogs in the wheel of life.  We're a little damaged, but not so bad that we're completely dragging down the ship.  In fact, if you asked either of us on any given day; we'd gladly tell you how we've sacrificed for our families and solved most of the problems.  We're right.  We usually are.  We're mothers; mothers who love deeply and completely whether we like it or not.

Oh, and we're well aware that we drive each other nuts.  That doesn't stop us from loving each other.  This is why I love Mom.  She taught me the complexities of being a woman who raises her children to be able to think for themselves and make their own decisions even if the decisions are opposed to her own desires.  She gave me wings; so that, I might give my children wings.  We're still trying to figure out how to make the time and miles apart hurt a little less, but we love each other; so we'll just focus on that for now.  Besides, we both know that the distance can be conquered with a well-placed phone call. 

Oh, and in the interest of full disclosure, I should mention that I have been posting most of my blog posts from my mom's laptop.  Mom recently called me to talk about a former friend's cinematography and to bust me for taking her laptop without asking her first.  You know the saying, "It's easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission"?  Well, we'll never know, now will we.  "Guilty as charged," was all I could say besides, "I'm sorry."  One of my co-conspirators narced.  He shall remain nameless, NOT - Dad.  My other co-conspirator filled me in on the details.  I was rolling. 

I really am very lucky to have a mom who's gone from "don't ever put anything in writing" to "would you just write it already."  We're constantly evolving.  Thank you, Mom.  I've written every day for over a month, now.  You've played a bigger part in it than you'll ever know.

I love you, Mom.  Happy Mother's Day today and every day.

Happy Birthday, Carolyn! Love You!

I met Carolyn in my dorm room way back in 1979. It's the most memorable meeting I've ever had.


Unlocking my door at 7am, I entered to find that my roommate hadn't made it home the night before either. This was particularly disturbing because someone was sleeping on the roll-away! There was a stranger in my room sleeping on my roll-away. I couldn't tell if the person was a boy or a girl. All I could see was the fuzzy bit of afro poking out from the covers. I touched the person's shoulder, but there was no response. I shook the person's shoulder.
"Fuck you!" a hoarse voice yelled.
"Fuck you, too! What the hell! Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my room?"

I stormed out of my room, slammed the door, and stopped. I turned around and stood outside my dorm room door with fists clenched.

"What the hell am I doing out here?!" I thought, "That's my room. What am I doing out here, and they're in there?

I went back into my room and stood over the person. The person mumbled and pulled the covers over their head.

"Excuse me," I said quietly, "Who are you?"

The person didn't respond. I waited some more and loudly repeated my question. I waited for a response. I didn't want to shake the person again. That hadn't done any good. I didn't want to keep standing there like a fool, but I waited. Finally, the person rolled over and looked up at me with one squinty eye.

"Who are you?" the person whined.

"I live here. Who are you?"

"Kathi said I could sleep here."

"Oh, you know Kathi?"

"Yeah."

"Well where is she?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. Well, I'm Michelle."

"I'm Carolyn."

"OK. I'm going to sleep."

"OK. Me, too."

So I guess you could say that the first time I met Carolyn we fucked a couple of times; and then, we slept together." (Rim Shot!)

It's been over 30 years since we met. There's no way I could have predicted that I'd end up being lifelong friends with Carolyn based on our first encounter. In fact, when she kidnapped my black baby doll, and I had to devise a rescue plan that took two days to execute; I was quite sure that I would gladly kill the bitch the next time I saw her.

"Can't have my baby doll 'cause she's black. What the hell does she know. Black. Bullshit. She's mine," I grumbled to myself while remembering how I'd made a fool of myself pounding on her locked door and screaming, "GIVE ME BACK MY BABY DOLL!" Oh, I was going to kill her.

I didn't see her for days after that. Kathi would go down to her room as I glared at her traitorous ass. Kathi just laughed and told me to get over it. I'd hear them laughing down the hall and just get more pissed off than before. Damn bitches.

Somewhere down the road, Carolyn came to my room and apologized. She did. She made the first move 'cause I sure as hell wasn't going to. I'm pretty sure Kathi pressured her into it. I'm also pretty sure Kathi was sick and tired of hearing me bitch.

"She doesn't know shit. I've had this baby doll since I was six years old. I got her the day my 'real-life baby doll' was adopted. She's all I have to remember Kaylynn by. She wasn't black, either! Just 'cause my baby doll's black, she thinks I can't be her mom! How stupid is that! What the hell!"

"Michelle," Kathi said, "It was a joke. Come on. She doesn't know. She would've given her back."

"Yeah right. Big deal. She TOOK my baby doll!"

Kathi would just shake her head, and I'd go on muttering. It wasn't fun.

Things changed after Carolyn came to apologize, and we talked. Things got really fun. The amount of fun we packed into the two years that we were students and eventually roommates in Madison is mind boggling.

Carolyn's birthday is exactly six months opposite of mine. When we met, we were almost completely opposite. Over the years we acquired a few of each other's traits. The funny thing is that if you ask each of us what these traits are, we would describe ourselves as being the quiet one and the other as the loud one. That always makes me laugh. I guess I was loud before I met Carolyn, but I always thought of myself as shy. She felt the same way about herself. I like to think we brought out some of the best in each other. We sure learned to have fun, and if we weren't having fun; we learned how to get through it.


There's just so much to tell about Carolyn and me, but it is late; so I'll leave it at this.

I'm friends with Carolyn today because ...

Her shit-eating grin combined with lying her head off is too funny for words.

She plays Beethoven's Fifth when she's mad and cleaning.

She and Danny fell in love right in front of me.

She has always worked hard.

I like her family - the whole lot of 'em.

She goes down like me and figures out a way to go back up like me.

She had the good sense to "make nice" with my cat, Crystal; so that Crystal would stop leaving Carolyn a poop present every morning in the bathtub.

She loves her children and is a great mom.

She called me when Danny killed himself and asked me to come help her during the funeral.

I respect her.

She gives me strength.

We've learned so much as a result of being friends.

We've had so much fun together.

There's just something about the two of us.  We're so alike; and yet, so different.

Turning 30

When I turned thirty years old, I was in college.  I was roughly ten years older than most of my classmates.  I was a Theatre Major.  I was also a Welfare Mother.  Non-Traditional Age Student was another title.  Mom was my favorite title.

"I'm turning 30," popped out of my mouth in multiple locations for months.  I might be between classes.  I might be washing dishes.  I might be working in the set shop.  I might be driving somewhere.  I might be grocery shopping.  I remember smiling after I said it.  I remember thinking that I wouldn't freak out about it.  I thought I was pretty successful until almost a year later when I started talking about my 31st Birthday.

"Are you going to freak out about this one like you did about your thirtieth?" asked Jen. 

"Freak out?" I responded, "I didn't freak out.  I purposefully decided not to freak out.  I was happy to be turning thirty."

"Well, it sounded like freaking out to me," replied Jen.

"I'm sorry you took it that way.  You're wrong.  I'm going to be thirty-one!" I said and flashed her a goofy grin and boogied my "My Birthday is in Like What, How Long, Oh, I Don't Care" dance down the set shop aisle between the 8' x 16' work table and the Chop Saw Work Counter. 

Barat College had a beautiful Set Shop.  The smell alone took me away; sometimes to a happy place and sometimes to a sad place.  The space was so beautifully functional.  The arc of the backstage brick wall was gorgeous.  There were always enough saw horses.  Paint patterns speckled and outlined previous productions.  I really learned a lot there.  I grew up there.

I was a troubling student for both my classmates and professors.  I was in the middle.  I seemed to be about halfway to my professors and halfway to my classmates.  This meant that I heard things from my professors and my classmates that were confusing, disturbing, and overwhelming.  I did my best to just be me, and this created more confusion which led to frustrated comments.  I've always exasperated people. 

My closest Barat friends ranged from somewhere around my age to ten years younger than me. 

They were all women.
 
Four were single mothers. 
Two were not.
 
Three were Welfare Mothers.
 
One was Mormon. 
One was Baptist. 
One was Catholic. 
One was Greek Orthodox. 
One was Earthy New Age. 
One was Yuppie North Shore. 

Two didn't drink. 
Three smoked pot. 

One had twins. 
Two had two daughters. 
One had one daughter. 

One had a boyfriend.
One acquired a fiance.
Three dated.
 
One had a bad experience with my brother. 
One wanted to have a bad experience with my brother. 

One studied Communications and didn't want to work. 
One studied Education and seemed OK with it. 
One studied Photography and got married while still in school. 
One studied Dance and could fall asleep sitting straight up while talking. 
Two studied Technical Theatre and ran the set shop.

Three were in a single mother's support group. 
Two were in an unofficial performing arts support group. 
One was introduced to my parents.  

Three had only one living parent. 
One had a stepdad.  
Two had parents who were still married. 

Two were the youngest of eleven. 

Six lusted after sleep.
Six worked to exhaustion.
Six shared their dreams.
Six got mad.
Six laughed so hard they cried, and cried so hard they laughed.


I remember thinking I was living my dream; and that, my dream contained a good amount of Hell.  In retrospect, I could've done a lot better.  There are a whole line of "buts" screaming to be written, but the truth is that I could've done better. 

I'm not going to debate the philosophical theories of what I learned, nor how it shaped me as a person.  Certainly, I understand that it was a fantastic learning experience.  The simple truth is that my experience was pretty balanced as far as ups and downs.  I had some great ups.  I had some great downs.  I did many good deeds.  I screwed up colossally.  I got good grades and bad grades.  My confidence grew and plummeted.  My talents were acknowledged.  My emotional state was ridiculed.  I was held in awe and disgust.  I revelled in me.  I remained overly-sensitive and learned to cope with it a bit better.  I could've done better.  My friends and family can attest to this.

So, it's my thirtieth post.  It's my 30th Post!  :D ... and I'll be fifty-one in "... Like What, How Long, Oh, I Don't Care."  SIX MONTHS!  La, la, la, la, la.

Tomorrow's post will be dedicated to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Carolyn.  It is her birthday, and I love her.

Happy Mother's Day to my many mom friends and family.  Can you guess who my Mother's Day post will be about?  :D 

FORWARD!

A Shift in the Universe

Apparently there is an energy sucking vortex hoovering around our area.  I was informed that this must be the case because my son's girlfriend was also wiped out today.  It's really quite normal for my son and I to be lazy slugs, but his girlfriend is usually full of energy and constantly on the go.  I guess I'll have to accept her summation because I am just a sitting shell of goo, right now.

In spite of our lack of energy, motivation and desire; my son and I accomplished a few major tasks.  For one thing, I was offered breakfast in bed.  Who can say, "No", to breakfast in bed?  Well, I forced myself to remain in bed just to receive it.  I blew it, tho'.  I had some question pop into my head, walked into the kitchen and discovered my son putting jam on my toast.  Ahhh.  I took my breakfast back to my bed and thoroughly enjoyed it.  I think this made my son very happy.

After we ate our breakfasts in our beds, my son had to run an errand.  While he was away, I looked for work.  I found something interesting that scares me to death.  I think I'll do it.  It falls into the category of "lifetime goals", so away I go to test my limits and comfort zone.  I'm keeping it a secret for now because if I spill the beans I'll lose all my nerve.

When my son got home from his errand, we continued cleaning the kitchen including washing the floor and getting a new litter box for our beloved kitties.  It's an amazing event in our household. 

Considering the world events these days this seems so very small, but since I have no control over any of the world events; I'll stand by this small event as a major accomplishment. 

After years of bickering over housework, my son and I are finally on the same team.  It's happened.  I was ready to lose my mind if he didn't "make a loud popping sound", and I am so happy to report that I think we've turned a major corner.  My soul is reborn as a result of learning to work together in a humorous, productive way.  I gave up control of the litter box issue and sent him to the store to pick out the litter box of his dreams.  Yes, my son has been dreaming of a particular style of litter box for years, and I have consistently thwarted his efforts.  Today I let go and let him.  He picked a very nice looking one with a cover.

So while we washed our lunch dishes, standing on the clean floor with the new litter box in its place: we waited to see if either one of our cats would approach and use the new contraption.  It didn't take long for our alpha male, Ziggy, to crawl into the box.  He circled and scratched.  He got out.  We stood very, very still barely turning our heads to sneak a peek.  We quite literally held our collective breaths.  Cats can be persnickety creatures willing to lay the blame squarely at your feet for anything they damn-well please.  Since we have been properly trained by our feline friends, we know this and combat it with sly wit and cunning.  Wisely, we collapsed our auras and created our "Cone of Silence" under our "Cloaks of Invisibility" while Ziggy was perusing his new bathroom facilities.  Then it happened!  Ziggy stood in the "doorway" of the new litter box, balanced all four paws on the ledge and did what he had to do.  Ziggy has strange bathroom habits.  He is also a voracious burier.  This is what prompted my son to get the covered box.  Ziggy just throws litter all over the place in his efforts to bury whatever he's done.  Well, after dear Ziggy had buried what he needed to, he took off at a full gallop to other parts of the house.  This might have been a Victory Lap.  I'm not sure.

So while the world is falling apart all around us, I am writing about being lazy, cleaning the kitchen and feline fastidiousness.  What can I say?  It was a strange day in our strange little vortex of banality.

Here's to tomorrow.  Take great care.  Don't despair.  Somehow we're going to make it through all this, too.  I'm off to do a bit of meditating; and then, it will be time for Craig Ferguson.  I love his theme song; "... you can always sleep through work tomorrow!  Hey!  Hey!  It's OK.  Tomorrow's just your future Yesterday!"

5 + 5 = A Perfect 10

Oh goodness!  Cinco de Mayo has been a pretty decent day. 

My son and I got down to the two back rooms in our basement and cleaned them out.  It only took a little over two hours to clear and sweep them.  I wore a hat, work gloves and a mask.  It's nasty down there.  Tomorrow we'll bleach the floors.  That should kill a bunch of yuck.  After that, no more storage in that area.  It should be OK with consistent ventilation. 

I've got my son's help for the next two days, so I'm expecting to get quite a bit done around here.  This is very good.  It also means that I am sore and dirty, so ta-ta for now.

One Step at a Time

So today I enrolled in Summer School at the local community college.  I'm taking one course, so far; Web Design and Development.  I like these computers, and need to build my own website, so ....

I'm considering adding a second course, but haven't figured out if it's going to be Creative Writing or a Early Childhood Education course.  Of course, I could take Intro to Business, too.  I don't know, so I'm holding on that one.

The total cost of my education, so far, is $325.  That will be out-of-pocket unless I get a scholarship or loan.  That's OK.  It's all a part of the plan.

I know the blog has been a bit boring lately filled with more failure and anxiety than success.  I've even dropped the "4-Point Report" Section.  My apologies.  I'm still in the formation phase and subjecting making you suffer through it all. 

It is another case of failure or "falling off the wagon" again.  Maybe failure is too strong a term, but I've never shirked from my failures.  If I shirked from my failures, I would be stuffing a lot of emotions and that is not healthy.

Basically, I've started smoking again.  Less than before, but give me time and I'll be back at a pack a day.  Then again, give me time, and I'll be back down to nothing.  Choices, choices, choices.

I've been eating healthier, but still manage to eat too much "bad" food.  I so love chocolate.  I mean, I really love chocolate.  sigh

I'm pretty cheerful because I've been doing a lot around the house, but my anxiety level is heightened because I'm not spending as much time as I should be applying for jobs. 

That pretty much sums it up.  This is becoming more of an on-line journal than anything of real interest even to me.  Sorry to all of us.  I'm really disappointed in my progress.  I don't really need words of encouragement, but I do thank those of you who have offered them.  Your thoughtfulness buoys me as I stumble through. 

On the upside, I do think that this summer could be one of the best I've ever had here.  I get along with my neighbors fantastically.  My son and I are planning our gardening exploits, and we're both pretty excited about it.  Sometimes I think about selling any extra produce to people.  I also think of doing a lot of canning, so we can eat throughout the year.  I'm getting back to my country roots, and it feels good.  Simple neighborly pleasures seem to make me the happiest.

Every day brings a bit more clarity and fun, so I keep plugging away hoping that I get a job before June 1st.  Frankly, I fully expect to blow it; thus losing out on the elusive $6,000 and having to repay the $3,000.  I think this thought, so I won't completely fall apart when it happens.  Of course, if it doesn't, well so much the better.

Well, it's 11:11, so I'll go.  Until tomorrow's post, take care and keep plugging away.  Living a small life filled with personal meaning and pleasure isn't such a bad thing; in fact, it's pretty darn good.

WOW!

This is a quickie 'cause I'm sore and tired.

Today I cleaned two of three garages, got most of my stuff switched to the other side of the basement, and cleaned the basement bathroom.  This took about nine hours with an hour for lunch.  I moved slowly, in my opinion; but the amount of work that got accomplished is amazing. It shocked my son.

"You got all this done in one day?"

Feels good.  I stepped away from the computer.  I trudged.  I plodded.  I persisted.  I achieved.  :D

OK, off to watch my man, Heath, in "The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassisus" directed by Terry Gilliam.  :D  My son brought it home for me.  :D  

He also stopped at the store and picked up frozen pizza, Cherry Coke Zero, and Miller Lite.  How strange to ask my son to pick up beer.  Convenient, too.  I haven't had one, afterall; but it's nice to have it in the house.

Tomorrow the two of us continue making this place fully functional and fun.  Can't wait.  Hope I didn't overdo it.  I am very sore, so horizontal I go now.

Sweet dreams. 

sigh

I think that for all the grand plans made the body will have its say.  Today my body said, "Sleep."  It wasn't a loud command.  It was a gentle take over.  I slept.

As my son's hours have changed with this production so have mine.  I am not young any more.  The toll on my body showed up in illness, soreness and exhaustion.  I've done my best to keep plugging away, but today since he is done; my body said, "Enough." 

It wasn't a matter to be argued.  I had no choice.  I ate a bit, drank a bit, and slept a lot.

Hopefully this day has primed me for a productive week.  I feel sad about my lack of productivity these past two days, but it's just my own disappointment over not attaining self-imposed goals.  It will pass because I will forgive myself and accept that I am only human.  It would be so much easier to be machine.

So this is it for the weekend.  It has been a bit of a "high holy weekend" only recognized by me.  May Day begins the rites of Spring for me.  While I didn't official observe the significant events associated with May Day and the Kentucky Derby, I still believe that my spirit was aligned.  I do feel blessed.

As time goes by, I will write the stories about my Grandpa Corbin and his May Basket to his teacher, my mother's love of speed and ding-dong ditch while we delivered May Baskets when I was in Kindergarten, and how I woke my father from a sound sleep during the 1969 Kentucky Derby as Bill Hartack rode Majestic Prince to victory. 

I didn't think of seriously researching my love for Secretariat, and now there is a movie.  I'm so glad others are smarter than me.

So here's to a great week for everyone.  I'll have a bit of help with my projects starting on Tuesday.  Here we go again.

All of a sudden ...

There I was talking with my neighbors at around 11:30pm knowing that my thoughts of not posting on May 1, 2010 were going to come true. 

It was after I came home that I figured out that I'd missed the Ketucky Derby.  I look forward to the Kentucky Derby all year.  Oops. 

I got to see the replay on-line, though.  Not as good as actually seeing the LIVE coverage, but what a race!  Wow.  I'm more stoked than ever for the Preakness and Belmont.

Had a good busy day filled with thoughts of what short story to write, my grandparents, parents, children and grandchildren - friends and animals, too.  I started out the morning sitting on my porch with my coffee and laptop enjoying the kids in the driveway playing Four Square, riding their scooters and driving their Jeep.  This progressed into a bit of plotting plots.  From there I did a bit of cleaning and decorating.  When my son finally got home from his 20-something hour day, I took a break and watched two of my favorite movies; "You've Got Mail" and "Dave."  That's how I missed the Derby.  After my movies, I ironed my son's suit and a dress shirt for his Wrap Party.  Once he was off, I waited for him to come home, basically.  Watched a show on the day that Pompei was destroyed in 79AD.  Meet up with my neighbors later and then came home and did my best to not call my son as it poured outside.  My son came home about 3:30am.

Between all the thoughts and work, well, I was pretty sore; so I pampered myself and gave myself a "bad thing."  The "bad thing" was to not post.  I purposefully didn't post to my blog knowing that my goal is to post every day.

That's it for yesterday.  I'm off to enjoy today.