I’ve never been outright ‘anti-Valentine’s Day’…
I do think it’s a fairly disgustingly commercial holiday, but as I have a tattoo of a heart, and sign all of my artwork with a heart and I love poems, general mooshiness, sparkly pretty things, the color red, lace, and chocolate, I don’t think it’s a bad holiday overall. Nonetheless, I’ve never really had a truly good [read: pleasantly memorable] Valentine’s day.
I’ve had fun on various Valentine’s days over the years. The parties at school where you got to have red velvet cupcakes (YAY, FREE FANCY FOOD!), make pretty crafts, and were forced to give and receive valentines class-wide were a nice break from the mundane. I got a few strangely sweet mystery valentines back in those days, probably from boys (or girls – this is me, right…) who liked me but would never admit it to anyone else.
I had one particularly memorable moment in high school one V-day. I was in the hall, between classes, kind of late in the day (I think it was after French class, actually), when our Senior Class President (Sweet James. I still have his pic in my favorite photo album) - who had flirted with me on occasion* prior to that – suddenly grabbed me by my shoulders, pushed me in between two lockers and kissed me! It was not rough or scary or unpleasant, just EXTREMELY unexpected. It was actually quite lovely. I hope I never forget that.
I got nice cards from Dad most every year, and Shirley too. Aunt Sue and Aunt Rhonda often sent me a pretty valentine, and MILLIONS of kids over the years. I’ve gotten treats, and balloons, and I’ve never really felt grumpy or left out. The only times I can remember having downright ugly V-days, was when I was involved with someone and they ignored me (or worse), but I never pined for a romantic Valentine when I didn’t have one. I was always happy enough just to get those little handmade kid-cards, sweet “Hallmarks” from Dad or Aunt Sue, and the occasional cupcake**.
This year however, was a banner day, and made me realize why I haven’t become one of those jaded “Valentine’s Day Is Stupid” people***.
It was my day off, and X was off too, so we slept in a little. We didn’t have any set plans for the day, other than a shopping trip (he said he’d get me new red sneakers for V-day, and I needed some bead-supplies), a nice meal (or 3), and maybe a movie. We voted and decided on “The Junction” for breakfast (among other things, they have fried green tomatoes, goooood biscuits and gravy, and fried bologna and livermush on the buffet…) and figured we’d just wing it from there.
I needed to stop by the flower shop where I used to work – 4 Winds – and pay a bill, and I wanted to get Stewart a b’day balloon, because his work is on the way to The Junction.
When the ladies saw me they said I should know better than to come in on Valentines’ Day, ‘cause they’d put me to work. I thought about it for a minute, and said “Well, I’m off today, and we don’t have any serious plans made – I could help out for a couple of hours.” They were VERY happy about that, and Chris didn’t seem to mind, ‘cause that meant we could afford a really nice dinner (we were hoping to be able to budget for big sushi). I told the ladies I’d go to breakfast, come home and change (as I was, of course, still in my pjs – my STAR ones, Andi!) and be back by 11:30. As we walked out, I asked Chris if he really didn’t mind, and he said that he didn’t, and he offered to help too. I went back in, asked if they needed a driver, and they hired Mr. X on the spot too – yay, us!

So, then we went by Stewart’s job to deliver his balloon (it had fishies). Stewart is “co-boss” (chief editor) of the Newsleader with a really amazing lady named Jody. This lady is one of my “real-life-heroes”. I definitely wouldn’t mind being like her when I grow up. She has had, well, a few 49th birthdays (actually, I think she’s in her very early 60’s), and truly looks about 45. She’s a very petite redhead with brave yet graceful fashion sense (like short linen dresses in all my favorite colors, bare, tan legs, tres cool shoes and accessories…), a beautiful natural face, great freckles, dark sparkly eyes, a pleasantly sarcastic demeanor (though I get the feeling that you would NOT want to piss her off), and enough spirit and moxie**** to make ME feel “blah”. Yep, she rocks – and she always has good haircuts.
On this day, she had a particularly good new haircut (short, a little wispy at bangs and neck and more “stickie-uppie” than usual on the top, but just in spots), and I told her so. She turned in her chair and said “Oh, well this is the “Sam” haircut. Actually, it’s the “Sam-in-Africa” haircut…”
:O
:D
Baron’d told me last week when I got my haircut that he’d recently gotten several new customers from Saluda (I have brought him MANY new customers – he says I’m his best billboard :), and that many of them said “I’d like a haircut kind of like Sam’s…”
Flattering, lovely, nice… but to find out that there is a SAM STYLE, and that amazing, beautiful, cool-as-!#$% JODY was sporting the “Tour of Africa” version of it, well…
:D :D :D
That’s almost as good as making People mags’ “50 Most Beautiful” issue!
Yes, I’m a vain Leo beast (and I think that Ms. Jody is too - well, not vain, necessarily, but Leo - however, it is OBVIOUS that she cares how she looks and likes having good hair... :), and yes, I am especially vain about my mane, so this is a compliment that I will never forget. And all before breakfast, even! :D
Breakfast was nice – and horribly cholesterol-filled – yay. Ran into an old friend/neighbor who was cooking there, and enjoyed morning-time with X. Then we went home, changed, and went to work.
The work was pleasant. Typical rushed, chaotic, gossipy flower-shop-on-a-major-holiday work. It was like old home day, as all my favorite co-workers (save Henry and Seth) were there. Emma, Renee, Carol and Marguerite. My two favorite delivery guys came in and I caught up with their latest news, and all the while, the lovely zen-like arrangement of flowers. I felt happy to be helping out – it was REALLY busy – and I felt very appreciated. Chris came in and out, and only got lost once. It was good to be working with him. That’s MY kind of romance.
We worked for 5 hours, and were compensated quite nicely – enough to afford a very good sushi dinner and the majority of our shopping. We went home, had a nice bath, dressed up, and headed to Spartanburg.
Because we’d worked longer than we’d planned to, we knew the movie was out. Chris called ahead to see how late each place we wanted to stop was open so that we could plan ahead. I would basically have 30 minutes at the craft store, 45 minutes to look for shoes at the mall, and an hour or so for a late dinner. Perfectamundo.
I’d set a budget for myself at the craft store (HA!), and I really was trying to stay close to it, but there were THREE aisles of beautiful beads and supplies, and before I knew it, I had DOUBLED my projected expense. * sigh *. I looked through my basket, realized I had been as “cut-throat” as I could stand to be, then told myself that I had made extra money and that it was an investment… I got to the register (still on time schedule, believe it or not) only to discover that ALL THE BEADS WERE 50% OFF!!!!!!!! I think I ended up going 82 cents over budget! WOOHOO!!!!
Next was the mall, packed with cutesie couples, and decked out with hearts and flowers everywhere. My sweetie got me a smoothie (with “immune” booster – his had “memory” booster - * Snark!*) and we started looking at shoes. I wanted something very specific – red – so it was easy to look. And we had a time frame to keep, so it was easy to decide quickly if this was something I’d really want or not. At about the fifth store I’d zoomed into, I spotted a perfect pair of shoes – these, but with red stripes, and red-edged black laces - for such a good price that I could also afford two little pairs of canvas mary jane slippers to go with my pj’s!
YAY!
Then, onto a wonderful dinner at Wasabi, where for some odd reason, we also got free food (cucumber salad and edamame). Chris thinks it’s because we’re cool (AHAHAHAAAHHAHAHA!!!!). I suppose that means we actually know a little about the food and culture, are as polite to the staff as we know how to be, truly appreciate the beauty of the presentation and skill of the atamisan and say so, and sincerely, if clumsily, attempt to speak the language. I think it’s because they felt sorry for us because the place was packed and we spent the first part of our meal next to a couple (Stewart, you know them) who’s toddler was squealing, stomping and being just generally, loudly rambunctious (this is ALWAYS annoying during a meal, but somehow worse in the gentle dim peacefulness of a nice Japanese place), and the latter part next to a loud, um, “déclassé” redneck dude who – no lie - started off his meal by asking if they had any egg drop soup. He argued with his date, asked if the sake was made of tequila, but overall, it was more funny than disruptive, and we had a great meal and a great time, right down to the beautiful pink origami tulip that the proprietress gave me as we got ready to leave.
Suffice it to say that the rest of the evening was even more lovely, and was the “icing on the red-velvet cupcake” that was my perfect, funny, productive, busy, lucrative, romantic, mystical, silly Valentine’s day.

(note: after I wrote this first part, I went home and found a single pale pink envelope in my mailbox, just as if I’d conjured it by magic, a sweet, cute Valentine from Aunt Sue!)

In other news, I’ve met with my boss and with the folks in the county finance office. If all the paperwork goes through in time, I will be taking a one-month leave starting at the end of this month. For whatever reason, I will have to take unpaid leave – I supposed that workman’s comp would help with that, but the folks in finance avoided that part of the conversation, and I was too _____ to push. I will have to use what vacation and sick time I have accrued, and miss one whole paycheck and about 1/3 of another*****. They didn’t answer my questions about workman’s comp paying all the med bills I’ve accrued since September either. Hm.
Instead of letting this make me angry, I have decided to accept it – the leave – as is. That way NO ONE can say that I am taking advantage of the system. I am only using what I’ve earned. This also makes it easier to walk away when the time comes. These people truly do not care about me, about my health, or about all that I have done in this job. I know that I’m just another number, at the end of the day – or pay period, as it were. I think I will have no choice to try to press them, re: the med bills, but I am afraid that they will say that this is the fault of the town of Saluda, which can barely afford new trashbags, much less all my med bills. I think I am going to have a fight on my hands with this one, but I have decided that, during my month off, I am going have a sit-down with both my insurance person and my workman’s comp caseworker. And I am setting a date and planning ahead for the inevitable leap into freedom.
The good news related to all of this (beside the obvious health-break I will finally get to take) is that my boss is being very helpful and accommodating. He suggested that, in order to make it easier to fill my hours, we could temporarily reduce the hours that the library is open. I sat down immediately after the meeting and came up with a tentative schedule that, with a little tweaking and shifting here and there, will need only a 7-hour cut in the library hours, and keep the majority of the volunteers working the same amount, if not slightly less, here and there, than their normal hours. Margaret’s hours will not need to be increased, only shifted slightly, and she will have the same amount of days off each week.
I have also agreed to be on call for these ladies, and I will, because they’ll need me, and because I am grateful for them - but it has just occurred to me that I am expected to answer the phone, assist volunteers, staff and patrons, and basically work during this time THAT I WILL BE USING UP MY LEAVE AND NOT BE GETTING PAID. That’s a BIG !#$% straw. :[ This camel is NOT happy…
*tick tick tick tick ….*

Oh well, onward and upward. It could always be worse. Hell, it HAS been worse. I feel better knowing that i'm about to get a bit of a reprieve, that I will be able to spend a whole month taking care of myself, hopefully getting myself back into to some semblance of my old, strong, healthy self, and doing things that I want and need to do - not to mention doing a test-run of my future plans.
I have considered all the contingencies, I have back-up plans and escape routes. I'm not afraid. I am basically now just waiting for Chris to get settled into his new job, and to get my little duckies in a row, and then - "Braaaaaziillllllll..... da da da da da da da da....."
The sky - and my own creativity and ambition - is the limit.

Much love,
- remember to send Valentines to your kids,
-s


*Once, after lunch, he came out to the bleachers where I was sitting on the rail and asked if he could write on my jeans. I said yes, and he wrote “Sam loves James”… I figured he was just messin’ with me, because no conservative, nice boy, nor indeed ANY boy in my senior class would have been allowed to date me, and they all knew that I wasn’t an “on-the-sly” type of girl…
**but NOT those nasty-a$$ boxes of Candy Hearts – ugh! :[
***personally, I’m down for ANY additional holidays that might A.) get me out of work;
B.) get me prezzies, treats & free meals, or (most importantly) C.) add a little pizzazz and change of scenery to an otherwise ordinary day – ESPECIALLY in mid-winter.
****I won’t say “spunky”, ‘cause she’d never give me snickerdoodles again. Plus she might look at me in that way that she has… eek. ;)
note: I always hated being called “spunky” too. But I suspect that Jody knows as well as I do that if the “Chunky Spunky Planet of Mary Lou Retton Clones” t-shirt fits, you gotta wear it. *sigh****** the good news there is that I have been offered one week of work on the old job during this time, so that will help make up for the loss. Nyah. !#$% the m#!%fin’ MAN!

State of the Onion* Address:

I’m actually feeling physically ok today, miraculously enough**. Of course, the last day I felt this good was the day before I ended up in the hospital. I’ve been living in fear of every sick kid (or adult) who comes into the library. I’m supposed to wear a mask all the time, but I can’t breathe with it on, and it makes my face break out. I have a bottle of vanilla walnut antibacterial gel to hand, and a box of those little wipes, for my hands and the phone, but I think about the fact that every book and movie that comes in is germy. Yuck. It has definitely become a kind of hell to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to work with the public again.
Even worse than the threat of disease is the emotional torment… I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been out a lot, or if it’s because of puberty, or it’s a new crop of kids, but I have had huge struggles trying to control the general misbehavior and vandalism. I found out that kids were throwing things (nice plastic bookmarks, that they also use as ammo, wooden tags for the upstairs computers, paper, etc) out of the upstairs windows, onto the roof of the neighboring building. These windows have no safety measures, so who knows when one of the children will fall – which will immediately be my fault – and the library’s problem. They have been raiding my little kitchenette (that I can’t use because I can’t leave this floor). Last week they stole a bottle of Hershey’s fat-free chocolate syrup (Sally and I made mochas) and poured it down the elevator shaft. They… “defecate”*** (and “regurgitate”) on the bathroom floor upstairs and then walk in it, or rub it on the walls; I ordered big cork boards for posters and notices, and then Joy and I ordered beautiful posters for them. The kids stuck pins in the faces. I was extremely peeved when they defaced one I’d bought special, but I got downright angry when I found pins stuck in the beautiful face of Lady Ella Fitzgerald. I actually considered asking the police to come and dust for prints, just to scare the little !#$%&*^#!s (grrr….) but then I was overcome by the same wave of hopelessness that I’ve been feeling in the face of all of this for sometime now. I mean, what can I do? (before you come up with a dozen or so suggestions that seem just skippy and should solve all my problems *bink *, consider that I’ve been doing this for 5 years now, and I’ve tried everything that I am allowed to try – and a few things that I’m not – it’s a “defecatey” setup here, and that’s the whole of it.) It sickens me that they have this fantastic facility to enjoy and make use of, and someone running it who genuinely cares about them, and they treat it with such incredible disrespect.
I can only discipline them if I catch them. I can’t catch them because they are a whole floor away. I am not allowed to keep them all on this floor, nor to ask anyone for help, beyond the puny measures I’m already taking. We have had cameras installed, but they haven’t been able to make them work (due to more ‘defecatey’ setup problems) and even if we could, we’d have to close circulation in order to be able to watch the cameras. There’s no intercom system there either.
On top of all that loveliness, they lie to me, insult me, they make fun of my illness, and they abuse my concern and hospitality constantly. It’s like having a !#$% husband.
I saw a notepad in a catalog that said “Women with teenagers understand why some animals eat their young”**** Man, do I understand that. Last Wednesday, I cried five times during the course of the day. My beautiful friend Catherine (whose 3 children are always here and would never dream of behaving this way) came in during the last meltdown that day and reminded me that they aren’t ALL like that – true (and I never forget that. I love and appreciate my good guys dearly). But the rest of them, relatively few though they may be, are enough to destroy my peace of mind, and crush my enthusiasm for the whole. I am so drained of energy that I cannot muster even a fraction of my usual concern and support. As if my health issues weren’t enough of a damper, there is this unending nightmare to contend with.
I know that if I were to consult with my boss, he would just castigate me for not doing a better job and tell me that I am supposed to be managing this, so I continue to just abide by the rules when I know who’s responsible, and clean up the mess when I don’t. And I bide my time.

I’m tired of feeling bad. I’m tired of bitching. I want ME back, body and soul.
Next week I have a meeting with my boss and two ladies from finance to discuss the leave that Jeff (Dr. Viar) prescribed. My boss said that the county would be doing an air quality test (YAY!), and asked if we could postpone the meeting until after that, but I explained that even if they find that there is now good air in the building, it’s not going to undo five months worth of damage. My immune system is so weak, not to mention my body itself. At the worst, they’ll determine that workman’s comp won’t cover my leave, and then I don’t know what I’ll do. (I’ve been offered several art jobs, as well as a little waitress job, and I have people clamoring for jewelry, so it’s not as if there’s nothing…) I’m afraid to ask them about all the medical bills I’ve compiled since September as well, but I think I have to. They’re adding up FAST.
It all feels like emotional tsunami.

So. What ELSE is happening in the world of Sam? Not much. Life has been sick/work/
sleep/housework/sick/work/sleep for some time now. No get-togethers, no comedy show. My body doesn’t take the travel well, I don’t have the energy for rehearsals, nor can I stand second-hand smoke. My appetite’s been pretty puny too. When I have time off, I either try to clean a little (my poor Casa de Luna!), make jewelry (aw, y’all WAIT ‘til you see my new stuff*****!!!), read, or sleep. The jewelry-making is a comfort in more ways than one, but sometimes I don’t even have energy for that.
Chris is a rock in the midst of all this. He may not be real good in the ‘remembering ANYthing department’, or in the ‘closing-the-potty-lid’ department but he’s good at being sweet to me, fetching and carrying, and putting up with my b.s. I feel closer to him every day. It’s nice to have something in the ‘L-O-V-E’ department that feels so REAL, not to mention comfortable, trustworthy and safe. He talks to me, about everything, he fights with me when I feel like a good row******, he makes me oatmeal when that’s all I want, and pets my head with his cool fingers when I feel really bad. He tells me that I’m pretty and that he loves me every day, he makes good gin and tonics, and a mean pot-pie. He has a lot of patience, and he is so beautiful to me. When I look at him my heart goes all squashy and I think “Man, I am a lucky girl.” He tells me that HE is the lucky one, so yay, lucky us!
Luna is well, but she’s having some depression and jealousy issues. She’s jealous because George is the center of attention, and it doesn’t matter to her that we are constantly paying attention to him because he’s so damned BAD! Jeesh, this !#$% CAT!
He knocks pictures and ornaments off the wall, jumps onto my shoulder from, I dunno where, !#$ hyperspace (literally) while I’m trying to do dishes or cook, he keeps burning his whiskers off – anytime he sees an open flame he rushes straight to it to try to smell it… A few days ago he burnt the pad off of one of his back toes, jumping onto a hot burner on the stove. As soon as we can get him snipped and completely immunized, we think we’ll have a very happy indoor/outdoor kitty (I think we’re not gonna’ have any choice…). Otherwise, we fear that we’ll be eaten (or duct-taped to death, or some similar horrible end) in our sleep.

Well, that’s basically the latest update.
For those of you who have written and called, I’m sorry if I owe you a reply. I don’t have easy access to the ‘net right now, and I’m too tired to talk when I come home at the end of each day. It’s catch as catch-can. But I love hearing from you, so don’t be discouraged by my silence. I hear you, and it makes all the difference.

Much love,
-s

*Well, not counting my pet migraine, FoFs.
**S – “Ogres [read: Orcs] are like onions”
D – “What they smell bad?”
S – “NO!”
D – “They make people cry?”
S – “NO!”
D – “Oh I know, when you leave em out in the sun they start turning brown and sprout
little white hairs?”
S – “NO DONKEY! Layers! Ogres have layers! Onions have layers....”
D – “...cake, everybody loves cakes... parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole
damn earth...”
***god forbid I OFFEND someone…
****I saw another one that made me think of you Andi, and Buffy –
“I childproofed the house, but somehow they keep getting back in.”
*****I’ve designed pieces called “Moon and Sixpence”, “Van Gogh Spring”, “Chinatown”, “Green River”, “Music of the Night”, “Indian Summer”, “Courage”, etc… ooooo-wee! And I just got a bunch more pretty stuff to use, too. Yay!
******’s never over anything serious or mean. Just things like whether we should play ‘Clue’ or watch ‘Pole to Pole’, or why he finds it easier to lie or clam up than say what he really THINKS. We’re gonna conquer that one, damnit.

Well, just when you think it can’t get any worse...

Thursday was one of the best days I’ve had in a while. I was mostly headache free, and definitely feeling better spirit-wise that I have in a while. I was still a bit “puny” from this recent bout of yuck, but I was up to going over to Stewart’s for a bit. Chris and I stopped in at Wendy’s and I got my fave, a baked potato, a Caesar salad and a frosty. We hung around with Stewart, KoL’d a bit, played a couple of hands of cards - and then I started getting tired first, and then queasy.
I’m queasy a lot these days, so at first I didn’t worry, but as the tired settled in, the queasy got worse, and by the time we got to the car, I knew that it was worse than usual. I had to have Chris pinch my hand all the way home to quell the nausea, and by the time we got home, I knew I’d have to consign Chris to the front room so that I could have the potty to myself.
That was the beginning of definitely one of the worst nights of my life, health-wise. The last time I can remember feeling that bad was when I last had pneumonia. I was in high school, and I almost died. Even then, I wasn’t as sick - “reverse peristalsis-wise” as I was that night. At first I threw up ever hour and half, then every hour, then half-hour, then 15 minutes. Oh yeah, it was lovely.
At 6 am, after the tenth* bout, I woke Chris up (he was starting his new weekend work-all-night schedule and I didn’t want to screw that up) and asked him to take me to the ER. Aside from all the other yuck, my ribs were screaming, my sternum had filed for divorce, and my abdomen muscles were on strike. This illness did not give one happy horse____ - it had called in SCABs.
I thought briefly that I might have food poisoning, bad lettuce, I dunno, but without giving any (more) disgusting details, there were certain “key elements” of typical food poisoning that were not present. Suffice it to say that nothing I’d eaten the day before had digested at all, and my body had processed no food or liquids for at least 24 hours. I felt like I’d been chemically poisoned.
They got me into a room and when the doc finally came, she asked if I’d been exposed to anyone with stomach bugs. That’s when I remembered that at least two of my kids at the libob had been notoriously sick the previous week, and had been borrowing the libob phone repeatedly**.
They hooked me up to an IV and started pumping fluids and fenergen into me - between visits to the potty - yes the fun went on and on and on... They took blood (white blood cell count WAY up), they took pee (sickos), Xrays to check for blockages or other serious intestinal kinks and finally said that it seemed like a stomach bug, but that I was way sicker than I shoulda’ been. Doc finally explored my recent medical history and determined that my seriously undermined immune system was probably the culprit. She STRONGLY recommended that I get a flu shot and a pneumonia shot, and asked if I was certain I’d had my childhood vaccinations and tetnus, because my body would have a hard time handling anything else right now.
Apparently each successive illness and weakness has chipped away at my strength until I’ve gotten to the point where a little stomach flu can put me into the hospital. Lovely.

My family doc told me almost two weeks ago that I really must take some time away from work (both allergy and stress-wise) or I am never going to heal. Spring is right around the corner, SERIOUS allergy season is on it’s way - I’m actually afraid. Of Spring.
But there’s so much to do, and there’s no one to work for me when I need time off as it is (my few remaining volunteers - god bless their dear hearts - are SERIOUSLY overtaxed, Margaret can only work so many hours...) There have been other worries too - a patron anonymously called the STATE LIBRARY to register a LIST of complaints against me, and a caring co-worker did the same thing, but only on a local level, thank goddess. I admitted to my boss that I was definitely guilty of some of the infractions (even the ones I was simply unaware of), and instead of apologizing, I promised to try to be more on my toes, but some of the accusations were lies, and some were ridiculous personal attacks. That is definitely JUST what I need right now.
I’m grateful that my boss was understanding and professional***, and let my past reputation and the library’s success speak for itself. I assured him that I would be more aware of the things that I was letting slip, and try to be more “my old self” as far as the service of the community was concerned. It’s hard though. I am worn so thin.
‘Thing is, I feel like if I leave now, people will think I am running, and you KNOW how that is, especially if you know me. Plus, no captain worth a !#$% leaves his ship, especially if it’s not even sinking. It’s just got a little WIND damage, that’s all...
Short story: More stress.

So, after a day or so of watered down juice and endless Sopranos, I got the strength to get off the couch. I called folks who were expecting me for various reasons to make my apologies, and when I talked to Buffy, she finally spelled it out for me. I have got to take care of myself, or I’m not going to be taking care of ANYthing.

It’s so hard for me to accept that I am this sick. I keep saying “It will pass”, but the fact of the matter is, it has no chance to pass. I realized that the onset of the constant migraines coincided with the installment of the new carpet in the basement. There’s still a mold problem in the building, there will ALWAYS be a dust and dust-mite (my two most serious non-chemical allergens) problem there - not to mention the constant chemical assault of perfume, hairspray, deodorant, cleaning chemicals, and of course, paint and new carpet. As it is right now, both the stairs and elevator of the building where I work are severely toxic to me. The stairs still smell like the incredibly ugly, relatively recent paint job as well as mildew-fest 2005, and the elevator has brand new carpet, which has a similar effect on me as DDT and gasoline to a new baby caterpillar.

There’s something about seeing that IV needle in my arm that makes it all hit home. I experienced the same thing back when I had to have the MRI. That needle and tube were far scarier than being put into that claustrophobia machine.
Things have been the same for so long that I am afraid of making a big change. I am afraid of letting down everyone who was so proud of me for getting this job, and for finally being a “grown-up”****. I’m afraid of being weak, of being seen as weak, of being a quitter, of letting down the people who have depended on me, of walking away from something safe - for once.
But here’s the deal: IT’S JUST NOT SAFE ANYMORE.
The paycheck is nice. Best, consistent one I’ve ever had. But it may well keep me from being able to ever make another consistent paycheck again. My body has been compromised to the point that I really am heading toward the - heretofore humorous - bubble.
When I realized that pneumonia, the flu, the next asthma attack, another 27 - or 2 - kid-borne illnesses could take me out of the picture permanently, I started to realize that I have GOT to find another way.

I am going to try to talk to my boss this week and see if I can go to part-time to finish out this month. We have some programs coming up that are important and I don’t want to leave anyone else (‘cause all of us are overtaxed) holding that ball. The lab needs to be moved, if it’s safe, there’s a lot of grunt-work needing to be done, we’ll have to find and train someone else... There’s a lot to do. But if I can’t get my health back in some sort of decent shape by Spring/allergy season, none of it’s going to matter, at least not to me.

Buffy pointed out that there was a lot going on. Getting off of anti-depressants, X’s new job, house problems (the flooding and plumbing problems continue...), hugely mounting medical bills, money problems, considerations about my life changes... all of this adds stress, which weakens me further. It shouldn’t BE that way - I used to be energized by change. Friends keep pointing out that I’ve changed, I’m not my old self, I’ve lost my sparkle. !#$% that. Is ANYTHING worth that?
I could give up my health, sell my soul for the possibility of 401k security, but what good is a plan for a future if you don’t live to enjoy it, or worse - you live, but your quality of life is !#$%?
I can do other things. I can support myself, I believe that. I’d enjoy that, and I’d be fulfilling my dream and filling my soul - and staying away from people wearing Eau de Death in the bargain. I have GOT to get to that place, I have no choice.
I realized today when I was driving from bank to bank trying to avert a small financial disaster (and getting my truck out of the hospital - my water pump died last Tuesday *sheesh*...), that I really am not my self. It’s a gorgeous day, warm, sunny, and I thought I was going to have to work on my day off and didn’t, and yet I just felt drained, weak and worried. Normally, I’d feel like a million bucks on a day like that. I’d be bubbling over to paint or clean or go for a walk, but all I could manage was the minimum, and I didn’t feel the least enthusiasm for the golden sun and promise of warmth to come. I heard this***** song on my wonderful WEBB and thought “This is how I feel all the time now. This is not me. I am the optimistic one, I am the hopeful one. I get so frustrated with my friends who refuse to see a good side (*ahem* you KNOW who you are...) and they come to ME for hope. I can’t lose that. I can’t afford to. The past would come upon me like a tsunami and I would be lost. I know. I’ve dealt with tidal waves before.

People have called and written and said they’ve read my rant and are worried - thank you. People say that when they’ve heard I was down other folks said to go read my rant. I am so glad that you all care, and that I can come here and keep you posted. Knowing that y’all care means the world to me. And let me say here that Chris has been keeping my head above water in every way. He has been so good to me. I went into his room while he was day-sleeping after his first graveyard shift, and just his eye and the top of his shaggy head were showing. I looked at that one sleeping eye and felt a surge of love so strong it almost hurt. I am lucky and blessed that he loves me and that he can handle what I can’t. It’s not much, but it’s an important little bit. It’s mostly just me (and cleaning the cat-box when I’m nauseous. Vital, believe me.). For those of you who worry and who have prayed or wished me blessings, I have them, and he’s a big part of that. Thank you.

I will keep you all posted. Thank you. I miss you.
-s

*Buffy said “Huh-uhn! I throw up THREE times, my ass in at the Doctors’!” It’s not like I’m hardheaded or anything! Gosh!
** Grrrrr....
***Go fig.
****Well, ok, somewhat...
*****Wishing Wells by Ron Sexsmith

Wishing wells
Are fine in fairy tales
But they've got no business here
Where evil's very real
And children are known
To just disappear

Magic spells
Still hold no currency
Where people are lining up
To sell their dignity
When reality's a show
They'll crawl through mud

I fear sometimes
We ain't got a hope in hell
I've half a mind to hang the next fool
To wish me well
To wish me well

It comes as no surprise
All that rises to the top
Before our very eyes
With each generation expectation drops

I feel sometimes
We ain't got a hope in hell
I've a half a mind to hang the next fool
To wish me well
To wish me well

Tell me when
When will the truth prevail
To clear away all
The smug and smirking juveniles
And save us from all
The blood thirsty thugs

I fear sometimes
We ain't got a hope in hell
I've half a mind to hang the next fool
To wish me well

Hey everybody.
I’m so sorry that I’ve been slack here. I have been feeling so bad. Yesterday was the worst day I’ve had in a long time. I was pretty much paralyzed by a migraine and spent the day either flat on my back in the dark living room (on the couch, under my wonderful electric throw and Charlyn’s quilt and George) or “worshipping at the porcelain altar”. Needless to say, there was no chance of keeping any pain meds down. I was so weak that I could barely walk, and trembling so badly that I couldn’t do anything else. No reading, no drawing, no beading. It was a bad day. Thank goddess for sweet Christopher, who came home and took care of me all day. We watched quiet movies all day. I slept a lot, both yesterday and last night (though I slept almost none the night before), and this morning I woke up feeling better, though I feel the migraine knocking on the inside of my skull again right now. If I put my fingers to my temples I can feel the blood pounding there. It’s pretty bloody miserable. Maybe it’s the new meds… maybe it’s my sinuses again… maybe it’s the allergies, or even all of the above. I just know it’s miserable trying to sit upright at my desk and answer phone calls and questions while the light and every single sound (computer keys clicking) is a nail in my head. It’s going to be a long day.

To quote Granny Weatherwax (after whom my trusty truck is named) – “I ATEN’T DED.” I’m just wishing I was, at least temporarily.
Much love and ginger hugs (shhh!)-s

wow. my last blog = # 250. can you believe it? i'm sure it seems that long to all of you, but i am amazed that i have written so much in such a short time. it's a record for me. of course, now that i think about it, i am the woman with a house full of journals... i have one box that has all my favorites in it, and when i am sick or have some rare down-time otherwise (like: stuck at the laundrette for a million hours), i take them out and write in each one. there is a journal for poetry, i have a no b.s. journal, a wishbook, a couple of journals for friends' babies ( i like nice new blank books, hint hint), a beautiful little leatherbound book that is becoming my first journal that i'm sure will see print, a travel journal, a dream journal, a sketch journal... and so on. it is a nice feeling of accomplishment and self-love to visit them and add another page or six.
same here.

i am just stopping in today briefly to thank you all for writing to me and for reading and commenting on my comments. for those of you wondering where i've been - well, i've been sick.
sunday night i did a brief stint in Park Ridge, due to an allergic reaction turned asthma/panic attack. i am weak, and i can only do so much. i am needing sleep a LOT more than i usually do (at least once during the day, and i have been going to bed around 8:30 for the last few days.
the weather, though wonderfully warm (good for the FMS) is causing a bloom of mold and mildew - not to mention the poor confused blossoms. and for some strange reason, the warmer weather inspires ladies to pour on the perfume, and people smoke more - they can smoke outside the library, or my house, or other friends' no-smoking houses because it is warm. (it was smoke on people's clothes and perfume on a !#$% NURSE that did me in on sunday). chris has vowed to actually quit (instead of just saying/pretending/hiding) since this happened, and i have no choice but to change some more elements of my lifestyle too.

i am not ignoring anyone, but when i am home, i am either sleeping with the phone off, or furiously trying to get whatever i can done -
did i mention that my bathroom plumbing is out AGAIN and i have no way to do laundry or
bathe easily?
- in spurts. i have to rest after each little task, so i can't afford to be distracted in the middle of it.
it took me almost five hours to do all our laundry at the laundrette on Monday, because there was SO much of it (we decided to get EVERYTHING done at one go, because we have no idea how long we might have to go before we can do it again...) and i had to nap in between loading washers, loading dryers, hanging up, etc. X came in after his interview and let me continue resting while he folded everything. yesterday, it took me all day to do my most basic "monday" jobs - cleaning the cat box, making the bed, sweeping, etc.
i'm here. i appreciate hearing from all of you more than you know -
and i'll be back - AND BETTER THAN EVER!
much love,
-s
oh, and p.s. - the dr. put me on something ELSE new yesterday... here we go AGAIN.

"Thankya, thankya very much..."

As a member of the "Baby Elvis Clan" I am pleased to announce that today would have been the 70th birthday of The King.
Back home, this day – as well as August 16 – was celebrated and acknowledged like any bank holiday. I was a big fan as a little girl, and I still love his music, despite the whole controversy. My favorite Elvis song is “Surrender”, but my favorite treat always came on his birthday. The local oldies station always played this live version of “Are You Lonesome Tonight?” in which Elvis, who’d been teasing a balding man in the front row, changes the lyrics to continue to rib this guy, and gets himself so tickled that he can’t stop laughing and finish the song. His backup singers come to the rescue and help him close out the number, but for those couple of minutes, you get to hear the beautiful, beautiful sound of Elvis laughing deep belly laughs – a rare treat, especially during that time of his life.
Today is also the birthday of one of my best patrons, Doug W.
Doug and his wife Sharon are good people (and new citizens – they were SERIOUS “ferriners” before*) as well as avid readers. Sharon and I share similar taste in novels (she has turned me on to a few of my favorite new authors and titles) and Doug keeps the ‘M’ section hot, and likes some of my odd recommendations. They also have great taste in movies, and will trust me to make a suggestion in that department from time to time too. They’re both smart and pragmatic, they have good senses of humor, and they don’t make fun of my accent. I won’t even call them “durn Yankees”, in fact. Just “good neighbors”. : )
Happy birthday to you, Doug, and to The King, wherever you are. My present to Doug (and all the rest of you) is a link to this sweet site where someone found and posted a wav file of this great song!
(in case the hyperlink doesn't work, here's the url:
http://spiritoftruth.freeservers.com/web3/lonesometonightelvis.html )

Tomorrow is the birthday of my Gramaw Winnie, Richard M. Nixon (who I met when I was 9, and who sent Gramaw a birthday card every year for many years, even after he was impeached) and our friend Dan, who will be 21. Happy birthday to Dan, and to Winnie Atsie and Mr. Nixon, wherever y’all are too. Gramaw, I hope you are teaching Mr. Nixon some lessons about eavesdropping – and how to make a good lemon pie. Share some with Elvis and tell him I said “Thanks”, please.

I hope y’all enjoy this song. I’d begun to think I’d never hear it again, much less be able to share it with all of you - “All hail the mighty ‘net!”
Much love,
-s

p.s. I still have some issues and clarifications to add to yesterdays' rant, but I'll wait 'till next week and see if anybody gives a damn anyway.

*They came all the way from CANADA!

Another year, another chance…

Well, it seems that the #1 topic in the blogworld for the last week has been “New Year’s Resolutions”. So (take a picture, this doesn’t happen often), I’m jumpin’ on the bandwagon.

I have made several resolutions. Chris and I have promised to be more considerate of each other in certain ways – I won’t discuss them here, not because they are naughty (cheeky monkies) but because they are private, couple issue stuff that he’d probably be pissed about if I discussed it here. Suffice it to say that it is working, we are seeing a difference in the stress levels at home, and having even better talks, more laughs, and finding more moosh in every moment. Nice.
I’ve also resolved to change some health factor stuff (X too, exercise more, eat out less, etc.), and so far, so good with those. I actually lost FIVE POUNDS over the holidays. I read today that most people gain six. Of course, I’ve changed meds again, and one thing that I’ll miss with the Cymbalta is the whole “anorexia” side effect. Now I’ve been switched to something REALLY scary that I’ve actually decided I’m not going to take because I’d rather be depressed than have tardive dyskenesia (which, once it develops, will most likely NEVER go away), hand tremors
(!@#$ THAT!!!), be unable to feel my face, and pee every time I sneeze/cough/laugh.
You THINK I’m depressed NOW? How d’y’all think I’d feel if I had trembling hands (no art), “uncontrollable worm-like movements of the tongue and uncontrolled chewing movements” (SERIOUS vanity issues), and incontinence (WTF!)? Without these drugs, there’s only a percentage chance that I might hurt/kill myself and/or others, be too sad to art, etc. With these drugs, it’s only a small percentage chance that I WON’T. It’s supposed to stop the hallucinations that I think the Cymbalta caused, and I can’t really see the point of prescribing one drug to counteract the hallucinations caused by another drug. There is an outside chance that the hallucinations are not caused by the drug (and in fact, is not listed in ANY of the side effects), but by the onset of Paranoid Schizophrenia- which runs in my family, and often sets in at my age. Great. Just what I need. To be MORE crazy. *sigh *
But that I can live with. Tardive dyskenesia and palsied hands I can NOT.
So, another of my resolutions is to try harder to relieve some of the stress that causes the depression, and to get out of the fishbowl environment that exacerbates the depression (‘cause let’s face it folks, nothing is happier than being FORCED to pretend to be cheerful and helpful and tolerant of abuse when you’re !#$% depressed ALREADY, right?). In other words, work harder and establish more definite goals toward becoming a freelance artist and getting out of the 9-5 bureaucratic grind (ie: away from l’auber!#$%gine). I’d have more time to do things that relieve my depression over the world situation (volunteer work*, exercise, write letters to soldiers AND politicians, protest, SLEEP…); over my past (therapy, yoga, exercise, martial arts, ART, volunteer for more organizations that help domestic abuse victims and abused children…); and over my health and mortality (take better care of myself, cook healthier meals more efficiently, maybe make a small garden, meditate, MAKE ART!, get into a more allergy friendly environment, travel, try some of the million new things I want to try, and just generally carpe some more !#$% DIEM…).
That pretty much covers the basic resolutions.

I did however make one major resolution, that for some reason caused my sweet boyfriend to fall on the floor LAUGHING. Hmph. Then he told our friend Dan, who had a very similar reaction, so that has inspired me to ask other folks what they think about it.
The resolution in question is that:
I resolve to be less of a doormat in the future, and to be more open and honest with my thoughts and feelings.
Chris said “Well, that’s gonna be real easy – ON YOUR DESERTED ISLAND!”. Dan said “Oh, yeah, no more Ms. Nice-Sam.” Hmph.
After the laughter and jokes receded to where I could speak again, I pointed out to them that if someone as outspoken, assertive and blunt as myself is holding back something, then that something must be really BAD, right? And then I gave them some examples. This at least stopped the laughter and caused them to think a little.

Later, X and I had a really good discussion about it, and I was finally able to make him see my side. I won’t rehash that here, but I’d sure like to know what you all think about this, and if you have any questions re: this resolution, ASK ME! I can go ahead and say that, no, I am not going to go around abusing people and calling it honesty. One of the most important things about this resolution actually, is that it is seriously causing me to have to think more about my opinions and about what I can and cannot tolerate and why. If this is going to be ‘The Year of Brutal Honesty’, then I am going to start with myself first. So far I’ve been working on:
“Sam, you are extremely judgmental and opinionated…”;
“Sam, you are a harsh taskmistress (I honestly believe that if I can do something, anyone can, and I expect no less from them than I expect from myself…)”;
“Sam, you are very inflexible and unforgiving…”;
“Sam, you don’t take very good care of yourself…”;
“Sam, you have to face your addiction problems…”;
“Sam, you are bad with finances and you MUST do better…”;
“Sam, you like people a lot less than you seem to…”
and
“Sam, you are too much of a perfectionist and too hard on yourself as well as others...”

Hopefully I will spend the whole year working on my own brutal truths, and will never get around to any of my friends and family members. They’ll just have to suffer under the “No More Doormat” clause and the “Really Saying What’s On My Mind” factor, which – hopefully – won’t be worse than normal, just more of what they’re used to. And of course, there’s the whole “preparing myself to deal with everyone dropping me like a bad habit” factor, but frankly, thanks to mom**, that’s not such a big deal. “Been there, !#$% that.”
Frankly, I’d rather have 5 friends that are REAL friends, people I can be TRULY honest with, who actually respect my opinions and like me for what I really am, and who try to be as considerate of me as I try to be of them, issue-wise. Friends who appreciate my honesty and who DON’T !#$% EAT LIKE !#$% PIGS AND TALK WITH THEIR MOUTHS FULL IN FRONT OF ME AND TELL ME WHAT TO DO AND TALK TO ME LIKE AN IDIOT CHILD AND EXPECT ME TO TOLERATE PASSIVE AGGRESSION AND TO LET THEM GET AWAY WITH B.S. EXCUSES FOR WHY THEIR LIVES ARE CRAP WHEN I KNOW THEY CAN DO BETTER (etc.) because they know I hate it, and appreciate the fact that I TRY HARDER TO SHOW UP ON TIME AND NOT CAMP-DIRECT EVERYTHING AND KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT ABOUT MY OPINIONS (sometimes) AND GET SO !#$% MAD AND LET THEM OFF THE HOOK (occasionally) FOR NOT BEING AS _________ AS THEY CAN BE AND NOT ISOLATE MYSELF AS MUCH AND BE LESS OF A BOWLING BALL SOMETIMES (etc.) because I know they hate it –
- rather than have 1,000 good friends with whom I often have to bite my tongue and just flat out LIE.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate my friends. You all read my blog – you know how much I love, admire and appreciate them. It’s just that life is too short to be as mad as I get as often as I do and don’t say a word. And yes, I’ve thought about it, the compromise of trying harder to not get mad about the things that drive me so crazy -
(like people smacking their !@#$ food, talking about things that make me sick or uncomfortable, attempting to control my time – or any other part of me – unnecessarily, taking over my space without any consideration, ignoring me or blowing me off when I am talking about something that matters to me because they are not as happy with their own current situation in life, blowing smoke in my face, or smoking while I eat, generally being rude, or any other OBVIOUS polite, common-sense civilities that are basically expected of ALL OF US…)
- is not worth the biting of my tongue and swallowing my anger and stress FOR A BUNCH OF PEOPLE WHO DON’T GIVE A RATS’ @$$ ABOUT THE FACT THAT THESE THINGS DRIVE ME CRAZY, CAUSE ME STRESS, HURT MY FEELINGS, OR JUST FLAT-OUT PISS ME OFF.

And if you consider yourself my good friend, and you feel like you fall into any of these categories and that you don’t feel so bad about doing these things to me because I do things that make YOU crazy, and you just swallow it too – then SAY SOMETHING***. Can I set any more of an example? Are you afraid I’ll blow up? Oh yeah, that’d be new and scary. ?!?!? Are you afraid I’ll stop speaking to you? Chances are, I’ll respect you even more and feel even closer to you if you speak up; and if I don’t, then you’ll have one less @$$hole in your life, too. You might also help me with my most important goal, and that is to learn more about myself and be the very best person that I can be.

Or maybe you feel as if I am unjust and unbalanced, and don’t deserve these considerations? If that’s the case, then why are you even friends with me in the first place?

Most importantly, with all these considerations in mind, if you are on this list, and I haven’t lambasted you so clearly that you know how I feel, or just quit speaking to you altogether, ask yourself ‘Why?’. If you know for a fact that there is no one that I can’t walk away from, no one that I can’t do without, and that loneliness is not a fear of mine, then ask yourself why I have kept my mouth shut and swallowed all this anger and frustration.

Yes, ‘familiarity breeds contempt’, but the fact that Chris (brave, brave man…) and I manage to live together in that tiny space, and be who we are, and still grow closer and love each other more every day, tells me that it is possible to overcome this. Believe me, it’s not because we swallow our frustrations. It’s because we are learning how to tell each other how we feel in respectable ways, and because we are trying harder to give each other the respect we think the other deserves and be more conscious about not doing these things that drive each other so crazy. That’s all it takes…

AND IF I CAN DO IT, ANYBODY CAN!!!
Happy New Year, folks. SPEAK YO MIND!!!!!!!!!!

Much love – and honesty,
-s

p.s. random footnote****

*@ the library – on !#$% SATURDAYS – is TOP of my list.
**by the way, remember that picture I talked about, with my mom and her sister standing in front of the helicopter? Well, Andi asked to see it, and when I showed her, I realized that it was my Aunt Mary wearing the bandage on her leg, not Josie. That’s one more exceedingly rare tender spot for her, dissolved in the light of the truth. Well, I can tell myself that Mary deserves my tenderness more anyway. “Que sera, sera…” How !#$% ironic is it that she used to sing that song to me?
***or just !#$% off. That works too.
****Jon Stewart has a photo of Vin Diesel in his (v.v. funny and scathingly true) book “America”.

I wrote my best friend from high school ("Bo") a long, newsy e catching him up on our holiday stuff and the latest. I hope he won't mind if I re-post the bulk of his letter to catch all of you up, too. It started with a poem I read that made me think of him and inspired me to write to him and let him know how it's hangin'. But it goes on to tell him how I managed to "save Christmas" (at least for myself and my new family):

"This poem was in my "Writer's Almanac" daily e for Monday, 27 DECEMBER, 2004 -
It reminded me very much of you (and of Paul too, for that matter... you two have lots of wonderful - in my opinion - things in common, not the least of which - in my opinion - is being so very treasured and respected by me. ;)
I hope that your holidays were lovely and that you and your home-babies were insulated together against midwinter angst*. :)
Ours were very nice and still continuing to be so. we have a new family member (George, the VERY bad swimming psycho kitty) who has made my ongoing xmas project even more fun than it might have been ( *sigh* ). We gave our local fam and friends (along with some of the mail-aways) home-made jewelry, home-made salsa and home-movie type videos (of old family photos with nice fades, etc. and music - moo. Chris' folks all cried. even his relatively stoic, nigh-silent dad, whoa.), but we also made cards explaining that all our big shopping $ was going to be spent on mailing packages to several soldiers (not just mid.east, but world-wide) we've adopted (including a canine and his trainer); as well a project that another soldier is doing called "Hope of Iraq", which is collecting and distributing clothes, toys, school and art supplies, etc. to the children there. he's based in kuwait city, but he sends packages out by convoy to other places, too.
We have actually enjoyed all the shopping - even the terrifying prospect of after-xmas sales turned out to be fun in the light of this venture. we made it as simple and efficient as possible (NO MALL! NO WALMART! MUCH LOCAL SHOPPING! - and library booksales and thrift stores and...) and managed to find lots of inexpensive, useful, fun things that were on all our troops' wish lists - and scheduled in a good Nipponese dinner while we were at it. I am also going through my replicant's photo collection and sharing some of my "pastoral" or "humorous" (those sound like reader's digest anecdote categories, don't they?) pictures that might remind them of home, and some pressed leaf and flower bookmarks, too, 'cause one soldier said they'd love to get those - and LETTERS. They want letters most of all, so we put our "adoptees" names and addresses in our xmas cards, along with link to the site where some VERY nice military families organize all this stuff, so our folks could follow suit if they please.
There’s been no rush to it all either, ‘cause i realized early on that they'll all be flooded with xmas !#$% (as will the mail), so we waited to hit the pre-xmas mark-downs (and i sent 0 xmas items), and will mail the packages off in time to hit the mid-winter, post-xmas blue season. :)
I’ve got all the toys and kid clothes nicely washed already, all my shopping has been divided into each soldiers' box (am just waiting to add the last minute - ie: next paycheck - stamps and snacks) - the small things like safety pins and tea lights into Halloween Ziploc’s, yay - so now I just have to write my letters and get it all packed up nice and fancy.
It feels good to feel so purposeful and useful, to believe that I am making a difference in this bad old beautiful horrible world, especially now. Do you remember if that always made me so happy? I can't remember, but it seems like it must have been that way, but maybe not. I have always been self-absorbed, but hopefully less now, and hopefully not always completely.
Either way, it turns out that I can't really live without it now. Anti-depressants only do so much. If I feel like I am falling down on the job, or that I am losing myself in even a hint of apathy, I can't sleep and I am miserable. My latest temporary therapist (maintenance shrink) said "Sam, you need to slow down." I wanted to say "Don't you remember how it was back in the early fall when I was SO unbelievably, even dangerously unhappy because there was so much bad in the world, and I felt so helpless and hopeless? You made me come up with ideas [which she all thought were too ambitious at the time. psh!] and now here I am making them happen, happy as a mollusk-of-your-choice, and feeling like I am operating at at least some nominal percentage of my capacity ( for a !#$% change - and you're telling me to slow down? HA! :)

And speaking of slowing down... NOT! I don't know if you've read my rant recently (specifically Thursday, December 09, 2004), but I am finally doing comedy onstage. Performing, writing, choreographing, costuming, props, music, all. You can read the rant for the basic details, but the update that hasn't been added is that, after that first show, at our second writers meeting, Tommy - the guy who started this troupe** - said that, in the years that he's been doing this, this meeting was the first time he'd ever felt that this, our dynamic, was what he REALLY wanted. :D :D :D we are all SUCH a good team! Attendance is up; our tips for the last two shows (my first two, Chris' 2nd and 3rd) were record-breaking and TRIPLED the usual tips. We’ve decided to go to a juried comedy festival in Boston in the summer and see if we can make NON-locals laugh and win some $$$ and attention.
We have our next meeting on Jan. 2 and I can't wait. X and I wrote/outlined our sketch over breakfast this a.m. and we think it'll be a hit. It’s a commercial and sketch about the ridiculousness of product names, like: "NEW IMPROVED, ALL NATURAL, LOW FAT, CRANBERRY-CHOCOLATE-DOO-HICKEY-FLAVOURED, MOUNTAIN FRESH ZING!POW!ZAPPO!WHAMMO!SPLASH! - LITE!" our new product that we'll be hawking is called "TOO MANY ADJECTIVES!" and then we'll do a sketch about two people trying to decide between all these products. I get to make labels for 'em - whee!

I thought you'd be interested to hear of my newest adventures - and fear not... my photography is NOT lagging. i did several sets of xmas portraits for some folks, we did three different photo projects this year (including our xmas card), i'm doing our packages project into a photo story for next year's xmas cards, and George and Luna are keeping the snapshot cam hot. Chris also said that he wants to hit an after xmas sale and buy me a nice digi-cam for my 'big' xmas prezzie, so there's that to look forward to, too! :)
The art's not suffering either. I made x his own wish-book for xmas, i made 18 pieces of jewelry, several wreaths and arrangements, and one commissioned sketch for a friend, too.
Yes, I’m tired, but it's a good tired. i can sleep at night at least, and peacefully, usually. I’m still haunted - and yes, it's been worse than even usual since the whole war started (basically since the Florida election crap, but it has escalated badly since the twin towers horror) - but it's manageable. I’d rather eventually be locked up for obsessive "Unbreakable" compulsion than for the horrible depression that apathy brings on.
I also make time for myself within what I’m doing. I’ve always been a "multi-tasker". I’m learning how to make my hyper-vigilance and hyper-activity work for me. When I’m doing small tedious work like jewelry, or when I’m drawing or sorting and packing, I watch movies that I’ve seen a million times and still love, so that I can be in that world while I work. I must admit, if it's a looonnnnng, drawn-out job, "Pride and Prejudice" (the BBC with *sigh* Colin Firth, yes, ala Bridget Jones' Diary) is my top fave. And then when there's a pause in my work and I can do what I please, I take long baths and then pile up on the couch with the beasts and x and my new electric blanky couch throw that Joe and his wife sent for ChristmaKwanzukkahYule and some tea masala and ginger thins and get deeeeeeeeeply lost in my 'catchup' films - the strange (Cecil B. Demented, 13 Moons...), the foreign (Hundstage - !!!!, the Five Obstructions...); The mooshy and brilliant (Walter, the Station Agent - I have a crush on Peter Dinklage, can you tell?) etc. - and of course I read my head off whenever I have a chance. I was gifted with "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer for yule, and I am already completely immersed in the story. I LOVED 'everything is illuminated'. If you haven't read it, I think you would like it. It sounds like Julia and I enjoy some of the same reading too, so pass the title on to her as well, if she hasn't read it already.
[Note to other readers – all of our xmas gifts this year were especially thoughtful, useful and lovely. some of my favorites are the aforementioned electric ‘throw’ that Joe and Ellie sent us for snuggling all together on the couch in my cold, old house; Chris gave me a beeee-yooo-tiful stainless steel percolator*; the riddles gave us PILES of happy stuff, but I was especially pleased with my Discman and a GREAT book; Jen gave me a beautiful handmade bag o’ goodies – along with a handmade book that she FOUND – at THRIFT – for a DOLLAR!; Andi gave me THE phattest pair of warm fluffy pj’s, navy flannel with little stars and plaid cuffs and pockets; Stewart gave me ‘The art of the Discworld and some gossip that did my heart good; Chris’ grandma and aunt and uncle gave us lots of lovely things too, but Agnes’ impromptu clavinova concert while we had desert and coffee was my favorite; and Dan gave me one of the best books I’ve ever read (bonus, it cost him nothing, and is the advanced reader’s copy!) lovely xmas – thank you all!]

OK! Enough news. Sorry. I always end up catching up in a torrent. I will continue on with checking my e's and trying to look busy, and leave you to your poem.
You live in my heart, Mr. King [in the photo, he's the one all the way back right! Yes Bo, I "Googled" you!], you and yours.
Much love, and BAJILLIONS of wishes for a VERY good new year for all of you in the L.A. branch of Clan King, as well as to your Gulf of Mexico folks. [and all of you in Blog Reader Land, too!]
Take care, and don't be surprised if you have me as a neighbor again before you know it... X has been receiving e's from a director he worked with last summer with lots of job posts out there. he's been talking about it a good bit. He’s going to try to get TV work here first (editing, he hopes, but he can do it all, even sales) for a while, and then see what happens before he (WE - eee!) make that scary leap... we shall see!
xoxoxoxoxox
-Sam

Listen (RealAudio) How to listen
Poem: "This is How Memory Works" by Patricia Hampl, from Resort © Carnegie Mellon University Press. Reprinted with permission. (by Writer's Almanac)

This is How Memory Works
You are stepping off a train.
A wet blank night, the smell of cinders.
A gust of steam from the engine swirls
around the hem of your topcoat,
aroundthe hand holding the brown leather valise,
the hand that, a moment ago,
slicked backthe hair and then put on the fedora
in front of the mirror with the beveled
edges in the cherrywood compartment.
The girl standing on the platform
in the Forties dress
has curled her hair, she has
nylon stockings - no, silk stockings still.
Her shoulders are touchingly military,
squared by those shoulder pads
and a sweet faith in the Allies.
She is waiting for you.
She can be wearing a hat, if you like.
You see her first -
that's part of the beauty:
you get the pure, eager face,the lyrical dress, the surprise.
You can have the steam,
the crowded depot, the camel's-hair coat,
real leather and brass clasps on the suitcase;
you can make the lights glow with
strange significance, and the black cars
that pass you are historical yet ordinary.
The girl is yours, the flowery dress,
the walkto the streetcar, a fried egg sandwich
and a joke about Mussolini.
You can have it all:
you're in that world, the only way
you'll ever be there now, hired
for your silent hammer, to nail pictures
to the walls of this mansion
made of thinnest air.

xo
-s
"It was all merely a desperate attempt to escape the kitsch that people wanted to make of her life." -The Unbearable Lightness of Being - M. Kundera

*our letters crossed in the 'net, and i found out that he and his fiance were having a very tough time with her health - she is kicking thyroid cancer's ass - but that she is ok now, everything looking good, and that their babies (Dodger and Dakota - pups) and they are happy and doing well.
**and a complete !#$% GENIUS. I really admire him. We all do.
***I’m just not too crazy about pressed coffee, and I have no room for an electric drip thingy.

Blah humbug…

On Sunday I was trying to get some things done around the house. Chris was running errands, and I had a moment to sit and think. I realized that I was feeling down, and so I took advantage of my productive mood and made a list of the top 11 things that were making me feel depressed. Top of the list was the meds, then there was winter, the holidays, the world situation*, etc. After I made my list, I wrote the dream solution, the % possibility for achieving that solution, the % probability for achieving it, what’s in the way, and what I must do in order to just maintain health and sanity. It really does help to see it all in black and white**. I also read it to Chris when he got home, as a sort of no- nonsense ‘state of the union’ address. He was depressed that ‘boy stuff’ was even on the list.
Psh. Men.

One of the things that came to light is how much I resent the deviation from the true meaning and purpose of Yule and midwinter celebrations. Not just those, but all the seasonal celebrations that have become just another excuse to spend money at Ye Olde WalMallBingoJingoKMartVille. It makes me so sad that everyone gets down about the holidays. No one seems to look forward to it anymore – not even the kids, for fear that they’ll be disappointed. People talk about remembering ‘the reason for the season’, but even before Jesus came along, there were celebrations the entire world over during this season, and I believe that the church chose this time of the year to celebrate Jesus’ birthday because of the original purpose of this holiday season.
People say “Oh! Where’s your holiday spirit, y’old Scrooge?” but the fact of the matter is that it’s WINTER. Life is harder, food is more scarce, traveling is harder, the skies are grey and yukky, and frankly, it’s !@#$ COLD! Seasonal Affective Disorder sets in, bills go up, the whole “holiday happiness myth” weighs on the hearts and heads of normal people, old family memories surface… if you ask me, the people who are deeply cheerful and happy this time of the year are just on better drugs than everybody else.

The real, original reason for the cold-time holidays is to help everybody make it through the winter. That’s why when our grandparents tried to convince us that getting an orange, an apple and a hand full of nuts in their stocking was a BIIIIIG deal, we should have listened. In those days certain fresh fruits and vegetables were really hard to get, and quite expensive, (especially in some cases, depending on where you lived) even in the summer time. So to receive such a treat in the dead of winter was a remarkable and treasured gift. Candy, too. Meals in general, in fact, in a lot of households, so that mid-winter feast and all those treats and goodies (mmmm, Aunt Sissy’s divinity…) was the height of sharing, compassion, and laughing in the face of harsh winter. It was a way of saying “We all worked so hard in the fall that we can afford this feast, we believe that spring will come again, so we can risk this feast, and we love our friends, family and neighbors, so we are willing to share our best.”
This is the same reason that gifts like socks and sweaters, mufflers and hats, and other warm things meant so much. It was a way of showing that, even though people worked so hard during the day, just trying to survive and make some comfort, they still spent their precious evening hours and candlelight working on something to improve the quality of a loved one’s hard life. Bright hand painted pictures, scenes of green meadows and sunshine, a quilt patterned with spring colors - these things brought another kind of warmth, and the reminder that these colors WILL return to our lives. Hand-poured or –dipped candles to light the long nights, cookies or hard-candies that used a good bit of the staples (not to mention precious dried fruits, etc), a good pair of boots to make it through the snow, hand-made snow-shoes, or even a scrap doll or wooden toys to give the children something to do in the evenings when the wind is howling outside like a pack of hungry wolves.
This spirit is the reason we give gifts to this day. How have we come so far from that?

Think before you buy the Chia pet*** or the ‘Sweater Shark’ or the ‘Billy Bass’. Could you spend that same amount of money and buy some actual happiness? A board game to relieve the cabin fever? Craft kits or supplies? A nice pair of stripey long socks? Some good coffee and snacks to go with it? Or better yet, find something that you can do that is practical and thoughtful. Everyone has some skill that is useful, and you never know how creative you can be with what you have until you really explore that. Come over the week before Christmas and offer Mom a whole day of your time to help clean or move things or cook (following her instructions of course, if you can’t cook) or wrap gifts. Offer dad a “clean the garage/shed” day, or to take him to do something anti-Christmas and get him out of the madness for a few hours. Offer to drive someone into shopping hell and help carry packages; babysit for a friend so they can go out into the madness without having to worry about baby too; offer to assist in their own Christmas crafting. Maybe you have home repair skills? Maybe you can sew? Maybe you’re good at cleaning cabinets? There is definitely a way that you can give of yourself and of your time and skills, and give your loved one something that will mean more to them than a mugwarmer ever could (unless you’re Tobie.). Ask them what would mean a lot to them and do it!
I think you’d find yourself feeling a whole lot better about the holidays, and maybe even about yourself and the people around you.

Practicing what I preach and
Much love,
-s


*I honestly felt guilty that this one was only #6.
** It’s also nice to know I’m still getting a lot of benefit from all that expensive therapy.***Not that I know anyone who would, but even there is a little bit of green and growing in the dead winter, and I think the sprouts are edible too?

Well, to keep up the whole “moosh-factor”, I’d just like to say here that living with George Huxley Riddle*, our cute new kitty is like… well, like…
…
…LIVING WITH AN INSANE FERRET!!!
Let me tell you folks, this cat is a psycho weasel-beast from Watabungi**!
I’ve had other cats. My senior year of high school, I had a little white cat and a little black cat named ‘Crockett’ and ‘Tubbs’”***. They mostly stayed outside, and I didn’t live there for very long, so I don’t remember much about them. Then in junior college, dad and Shirley let me feed a couple of stray kitties, both black with white trim, named Jenny-fur and Lucy-fur. They were outside cats too, same deal. I guess they wandered off after I moved into the dorm.
When I was at USM, I got another black cat named Nephilim. He lived inside and I knew him well, but he was fairly sane. He played with string and toy mice, got into a little trouble every now and then, and fell in the tub once, but overall seemed like a normal cat.
I adopted him out when I moved into a place where I couldn’t really keep him. Then we had Logan, who grew into an ENORMOUS, poofy**** cat. Logan was weird in that he liked to watch ice skating… hm… (see ****) and could beat up wild animals, but he was otherwise your average, playful, lazy, stately cat. He went to live with Ronnie and Heather at their Cat Farm when we moved into our apartment. Then came Ra and Set. They were two sweet tabby brothers who came to stay briefly until I found them a home with a lonely elderly lady – just normal, playful kittens.
Then there was Cat, and she was CAT incarnate. Stately, graceful, bitchy, spoiled. She wasn’t too crazy about most people, she kept Luna in her place (and frankly scared the bejesus out of her too) and played a good bit, stalk, hunt, and chase; she liked things on strings, and loved to bird watch – normal cat.
Not Our George.
This morning (after he got in the tub with me again. I thought he’d stop after I sank him yesterday…) he was tearing around the house like a maniac. He tried to attack Luna several times – she ignored him. When she got up on the foot of the people bed, he got in her bed on the floor. She got up, rousted him out and under our bed. When she got back up and comfortable again, he came out and got right back in her bed. Repeat process. SEVERAL times.
Last night as I was trying to write in my journal, they decided to play “chase the evil kitty around mom’s chair”. I had a good time watching Luna watch me try to teach George “sit” and “stay”. She was very amused. I was exploring the concept “futile”.
After that, I made a bed on the floor. My back was hurting, and I thought a night on the floor in front of the heater would do me good (it did – I slept better than I’ve slept in WEEKS, maybe even MONTHS). As soon as I got situated in the dark, and got my covers and pillows just right, I heard “brrrrrrump, brrrrrrrrump, Brrrrrump, BBRRRUMP!” and then catrunningrightacrossmyface “brrrrump, brrrrump, brrrrump…”.
"!&#$-*%#! IT, GEORGE! GYAH!!!" (cuss, cuss, cuss...)
Another moment, then “brrrrrrump, brrrrrrrrump, Brrrrrump, BBRRRUMP!” and then catrunningrightacrossmyface “brrrrump, brrrrump, brrrrump…”
*sigh *
I think this happened three times before he got distracted and went to tweak elsewhere.
I told Chris this morning that I think he has a tiny little meth lab under the spare-room bed. He’s constantly climbing on things, knocking things over, jumping straight up into the air for no reason whatsoever or doing that weird, arched-back, sideways-hop Halloween cat/weasel thing, attacking Luna’s tail, fighting with everything in the house, whether it moves or not. His favorite toy currently (other than Luna) is a shoulder pad cut out of a silk shirt. He fights with it and carries it around in his mouth. The only problem is that it’s much bigger than his head and he carries it by the center seam of the shoulder pad. He can’t see around it, so he walks with this strange stagger, his head moving like someone with palsy on speed, trying to see around the pad. And he has two speeds: on and off. If he’s not harassing someone or something, or just running and jumping, then he’s either unconscious on a convenient blanket, chair or person, or completely invisible (as well as apparently deaf). Sometimes, he just disappears. My house is really tiny, and the first time he did this, we panicked. We looked EVERYWHERE. We called, we got flashlights, we scoured every inch of the house, and looked all over the yard – Luna couldn’t even find him. We even opened sardines and still no George. Two hours later, he wandered into the dining room like he’d never been gone. We think he’s built some sort of time capsule or space-bending machine – possibly next to the meth lab – and that he just goes interdimensional occasionally. Can you say “John Whorfin” folks?
I’m pretty sure he thinks of us as “Monkey-boy" and "-girl”

The little weasel is constantly under my feet – or my @$$. I have to look where I walk, where I sit, and I have to be extra careful when I turn over in bed for fear of crushing him. He tries to climb on me (or down my pantslegs) when I'm onna potty; when X wakes up in the morning and tries to skwooch me we always hear “MEOW!”, ‘cause George sleeps between us; and I can’t take my bath without the little beast walking out on me like I’m an island or a dock there for his convenience. He tries to climb in the refrigerator every time we open it, he is guaranteed to try to get through any door we open - especially if it leads to the magical, mystical outside; and goddess forbid you accidentally drop anything on the floor.

The freakiest thing of all is that we think it’s great. There is an energy in the house that wasn’t there before. We all have something to focus on other than ourselves. Chris can put aside his school and work worries for a little while, I can forget about feeling bad for a while, and Luna can forget about being lonely all the time. Sure, there’s a litterbox to clean again, and there are going to be new vet bills and concerns, but there’s more love in the house, and certainly more acceptable chaos (which Chris craves). Not to mention the sheer entertainment value.
Who knows, maybe he’s here to help me learn patience.
*sigh*
We shall see.
Wish us luck and
Much love,
-s

*George Orwell, Aldous Huxley, Chris Riddle
**Luna is the "Devil Dog of Watabungi"
***I also briefly had a brown puppy and a blonde puppy named ‘Rico’ and ‘Sonny’ – yes, I was a die-hard MV fan, so sue me.
**** - in more ways than one. He preferred the ‘intimate company of other boy kitties all of his days.

"John Whorfin" images courtesy of World Watch Online - What a great site, BB fans!

Ugh, let me off this medicine-go-round….
...I’m DEFINITELY going to be sick.

About two months ago, my doc put me on a new psychoactive drug. I was having some fairly serious depression problems*, and the milder brain candy I’d been on previously, prescribed to help with sleep issues related to the FMS, wasn’t cutting through. This new drug worked a treat, as far as the whole ‘happy pill’ issue went. It alleviated the worst of the depression without numbing me down or making me feel distant from the issues that were making me sad in the first place. All good, right? Yeah – except for the fact that my constant friend Mr. Headache and his paramour Miss Physical Tension started getting even busier, I started waking up several times during the night, and had an upset stomach every day, all day. So, we changed meds and I have gone from bad to worse. Depression is returning, stomach is worse, I am sleeping very fitfully, if at all, and whether it’s the meds or the onset of winter, the pain has returned with a vengeance. My appetite is crap, and when I do get hungry, all I want is mashed potatoes. Thank Goddess** for KFC, y’all.

So this morning I woke up sick as a cat, facing a 12 hour day. Today is the day of Saluda’s “Hometown Christmas” stroll, when all the stores stay open late, put out lovely trays of treats and have musicians and storytellers to entertain visitors and (hopefully) shoppers. Normally this is a nice prospect, because even though it’s a long day – and I have a long day on Saturdays too – I still enjoy the strange informality of cookies and cider and musicians in the library, seeing my regular patrons tipsy and rosy, and of course having a chance to wander the street and nibble the goodies too. But I have to admit, I woke up this morning queasy, exhausted and just plain grumbly. Bleh.
I put on a red sweater and some leggings, some glitter (of course) and tied a sparkly red ribbon in my hair, hoping that even if I couldn’t feel festive, I could at least try to look it.
I made it through most of the day without dying or killing anybody, and Chris brought me some mashed potatoes. Mm. I even fell asleep on the hall floor for about five minutes during my late lunch. Around 2:30 though, I realized that I was not going to make it through the whole day without a small nap. I called and asked if I could leave, called a volunteer who was kind enough to come in, got X to take me home and get the Evil One out of the room and caught a glorious, even though it was a little fitful, 40 minute nap. That made all the difference. When I got back, the library was busy, our storyteller was here, the kids were out of school, and I had to start setting up the area for the entertainers and the food.
By the time everything got under way, with the children sitting on the floor giggling at Merrie’s EXCELLENT storytelling, Elaine and Rob’s nice and slightly lounge-y Christmas tunes setting the mood, the smell of hot cider wafting through, and people wandering in wearing their Christmassy garb, I’d begun to laugh and feel a little better too. When the library closed for business (meaning circ functions), Margaret and Scott left to check out the shops and music and food, and I stayed and kept an eye on the libob. Stewart came down and made his usual “flatter the pretty ladies” round, and by the time he made it back here, Margaret and Scott had come back to relieve me, and I hit the street.
I watched the kids singing on the Front Porch – some of them even stopped singing long enough to yell ‘HI!’, then wandered on down main street. I stopped in at the Police Station (they always have shrimp) and had another one of my “could my life be any MORE bizarre and serendipitous” coincidences which led to my good deed of the day***. I went into Heartwood to say hi to Juliana, and then mosied down to the Wildflour for the snacks I KNEW I could eat and some gossip and a nice toasty coffee beverage. Ahem.
Everyone was smiling and laughing, there were clusters of people standing around, laughing and balancing children and puppies. Music was everywhere, and good smells and twinkling lights… even people (left and !@#$ right!) telling me that I looked like a ‘little elf’ couldn’t phase me (I guess ‘cause they said “little” :) . People all stopped to speak to me, the children were wandering in their usual pack formation, and when I met up with them, the pack closed around me as if I were one of them…
It was nice.

And here I’d started out the day feeling horrible and dreading all of this. Margaret too came to work in a humbuggy humor, and by the time the evening got under way, she was laughing and sparkling too. I could put this all down to Christmas spirit, but I think it’s more than that – I think it’s community spirit. That’s something that Saluda has that seems to be truly lacking in a lot of places. I wish everyone could feel what it’s like to be such an intrinsic part of such an amazing place. Yes, it’s a small southern town – yes, there’s gossip and that sort of thing, but honestly, it’s surprisingly low-key. You all read my rant, you’d know if I had complaints about the whole “small town” thing. I don’t. This really is a special place, and – whether I like it or not – I really do fit in here. When I feel bad, people care. If something’s wrong, they try to fix it. People here pull together, pitch in, and stand up for each other. If I feel good or look good, people notice. And if I !@#$ up – they are surprisingly forgiving**** It’s also a town full of artists, musicians, environmentalists, LOTS of people living “alternative lifestyles”, and of course your average hillbilly type country folks, too (who really aren’t average in any way, but you know what I mean…) I think if something serious or bad were to happen to me, on a big scale, people would try to help, or stand up for me (they certainly have in the past). They've offered me places to stay in bad weather, or when my house was out of order; they've given me air purifiers and dehumidifiers for my house, to help with my allergies; they've sent me notes when I was down or having a hard time; they've shared their lives, food and money with me at times, and they trust me with their children.
I think my holiday wish for all of you is that someday you will know this good feeling. I share it with you in the only ways I can, by writing about it, and sharing the goodness that is shared with me, but I wish for you all to be at the heart of it someday, even if just for a little while. I think the feeling I’ve gotten from having a whole town as a “family” is something I will always carry with me, wherever I go.

Much love,
-Sam

*No surprise to you, faithful readers, eh?
**In this case, it’s definitely Goddess, ‘cause y’all KNOW it was a female spirit that was responsible for mashed potatoes – and gravy too, for that matter, not to mention Shiraz and Godiva. I’ll give God the credit for things like barbecued ribs, good cold beer and redwood trees. And if there’s a Devil, I’ll say he is responsible for panty hose, underwire bras, and video games.
***if you want to know, ask me and I’ll tell you, but I won’t say here ‘cause of ‘legal issues’. ****Boy, did I prove that one true right off the bat! Hoo-wee! When I first came here I was semi-inadvertently involved in a scandal of fairly epic proportion, and people just laughed it off, or made the best of it, or sympathized with me. It was truly incredible. At least I got that out of the way first thing, eh?

"So, this Nun walks into a bar with a pig under one arm and a watermelon under the other..."

Well, faithful readers - last night I fulfilled another one of my lifelong dreams…
...no, Vin Diesel didn't knock on my door, wearing a wife beater, wet from the heavy rain, needing to borrow my cellphone because his battery was dead, while I was fuming and crying over a terrible fight with Chris and drowning my sorrows in a glass of Shiraz and my 57th viewing of “Iron Giant”…
* sigh *

However, this dream was pretty good too. :)
Since I was about 6, when I used to sneak into the living room after I was supposed to have gone to bed and hide behind the couch while my parents were watching 'Saturday Night Live' and ‘Flying Circus'***, I have dreamed of doing comedy. My close friends (and hopefully my readers, too) well know how high in esteem I hold a good sense of humor. I’ve never liked “Three Stooges” or “Ace Ventura” type stuff either, always preferring a smarter, edgier, “!@#$ authority” kind of comedy – probably thanks to my genetic background, John Cleese’s legs, Michael Palin’s face, and that first season of SNL. I like comedy that cuts to the bone of the real world and shows the ridiculousness of so much (or even ALL) of human society.
I’ve always striven to be funny, and I am proud to say (and everyone I know can vouch for this) that I am never one of those people who thinks “ooh, I wish I’d thought of that snappy comeback” after the fact. I get the subtle jokes, and I top the dumb ones. I have my dad’s knack of knowing the punch lines of most jokes (he claimed he knew them all, but I caught him TWICE! Yeah!). I still get caught out, and a new joke delights me every time. I appreciate the nuances of timing and expression, and there are few things in the world that I love more than making people laugh – especially tough customers…
SO…
…last night I performed onstage with a live sketch comedy troupe! WHEEEEEeeeeeeEEEeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We did some improv, some stage combat, fun costume changes, fast-paced scripted pieces, a big song-and-dance number with jazz-hands and disco sparkles, and a scene that I wrote myself, too. It was INCREDIBLE!
This is the same troupe that Chris and I have been going to see now since our first pre-dating date, the folks who did “The Manor Daze”. They called Chris last week and asked him if we were interested, which was really great because they’d asked him to be in the previous show and I had to admit, I was pretty envious. We had our first meeting/rehearsal on Sunday last (Dec. 5). We went over the two scripts that were already written, and discussed ideas for others. I told them my idea and they said it sounded great. They asked us to come back on Monday evening, script or outline (for improv) and ideas in hand. On Monday night we read through the scripts, I read my idea and it was well-received. We rehearsed the big song-and dance number, and when Liz and Jay showed up we went over their pieces too.
Tuesday we had a short rehearsal in the space – I was feeling pretty puny – which helped a lot with the blocking. I practiced my monologue in the car* and we talked about ideas. When we got home, we finished getting costume stuff together and went over our lines, and then we went to bed, late-ish and nervous-er.
The show was Wednesday – yesterday – at Fred’s Speakeasy in downtown Asheville. Yes, that means three and a half days to write, rehearse, costume and do the entire 9 act, 45 minute show. HOO-AH!
It’s a free show, donations only (and by the way, they broke their record for donations last night! Jessamine was stunned! YAY!!!) so I felt good about begging everybody to come.
X and I went to Wendy’s before the show and had one of my strangest dining experiences yet. The heavily tattooed counter man cracked jokes, a kitchen guy came up and announced over the cashier mic that the restaurant would be leaving for L.A. shortly and that it would be a no alcohol flight. Two little Russian girls were stalking me throughout the meal, peeking around the short wall, smiling sweetly, waving and then running away, and then the employees gave away dozens of free Frosties, so we took ours to Fred’s for Jay, Liz and Tony the Bartender who was sicj and really happy to see a Frostie.
By the time we got to Fred’s, we had about an hour to rehearse. We got final costume touches together – wigs, aprons, etc. I ran my monologue until I felt sure, then we went over “Grandpa’s Surprise” and talked about last minute stuff until showtime. I'd invited everybody that crossed my path (and hunted some people down), so the place was packed. I kept peeking out of the curtain to see who’d arrived (CHRIS’ PARENTS CAME! AUGH! – did I say that this was a VVVEEERRRYYY NAUGHTY SHOW?!?! I invited them and then Chris said “NO WAY!" But he forgot to un-invite them, and I “forgot” to remind him, so… oops! but also YAY, because they laughed their heads off, and it made me fell closer to all of them...) and lots of my folks came. There was Julie Crawshaw, a favorite library patron, Juli-o Dottery** and her VERY cute (red-headed) and seemingly very sweet boyfriend, Erik the Viking (who has a good handshake, btw), Jamie and Erin and Jimmy were there, and my library assistant and her beau – Margaret and Scott. Wendy and her friends came – and they said I was the best thing in the show – THANKS!!! :D
And let me tell you, guys – it really was AWESOME!!!
The opening number was Liz’s monologue. She was dressed VERY convincingly as a man, and did a great bit on how enormously huge, uh, a certain part of her anatomy is. Then I came on with “Cookin’ With Judy!”, a cooking show with tips on how to harvest and prepare free range hippies. I manages to get some good political jokes in there, too. We did a VERY nasty commercial break and came back with Dr. Xavier N!*, who killed a hippie (Chris) and cut out his heart (I made that too). We did 3 “Post Modern Criminal” skits, a very funny one called “Grandpa’s Surprise”, where Grandpa comes home for holiday dinner and announces that he’s gay. I got to play his doped up, stressed out daughter Deidre. We did a very funny improv skit in which I played a waitress with anger management issues (also in which I got the biggest laugh of the show, by the way!!! Wheeheeee!!!), the boys did a hilarious sketch about a double date in prison, and we finished up the show with a funny, flashy, elaborately choreographed disco number called “Friendly Acquaintance”, about those people you sort of know, and then you run into them and you have to try to make small talk – augh! Tommy (sort of the ‘dad’ of the Heavy Duty Crew crew) is a great musician and songwriter, so the piece frankly kicked @$$! It was truly a show stopper. The audience laughed, we laughed – it was, overall, one of the best experiences of my life.
I’d definitely put it up there with driving the Mini-Excavator…

By the way, HDC said that Chris and I were definitely invited back, and before the night was over, the guys had already started talking about future skits with my “Judy” character (!!!) and I can’t think of a higher compliment in this arena.
I will be back – I’m hooked.

Those of you who came, thank you so much. You made my night! And those of you who didn’t – thank you for trying. I’m really sorry you missed it, but only because you missed some really good original comedy and some SERIOUS laughs. There will be other shows, and I promise I’ll do my scene for you if you ask. :) Also, just to rest your minds – if they are ‘unrested’, that is - enough of “my people” came to make me feel like my first show was, well, MY FIRST SHOW!!!**** : ) I’ll definitely let y’all know about future shows, too!

Peace and buckets o'belly laughs*****,
-Sambolina “Judy Wackenheimer” Lovelace (“Luh’vuh’lah’chee”)!


*and in the closet and in the bathroom and at my desk and in the stacks and…
**that’s not really her name, it’s an injoke. Sorry Ju.
***”Night Stalker’ too – what a good show!
****Don’t worry, Stewart didn’t come either. :)*****Jamsx, I REALLY wish you’d been there. You’d have been proud! XO!