They moved through the fair ...

... and then they moved on to StewFart's – EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM who went to the Washington County Fair, it seems, came through the store tonight. I know our ice cream is cheaper than what's sold at the fair, but you'd think they'd all be so filled up on fried dough and funnel cakes and sausage and peppers to even think about ice cream. Wrong!

So Julie and I were so busy waiting on customers that we didn't get to the usual pre-closing shit until after closing, which got us out of there at 12:30. At least we'll be paid for it, but if I am going to be working there next summer I am glad that the fair comes but once a year. I thought the entire Schuylerville Little League stopping in for ice cream all at once was a bitch; Saturday night of fair week is a Great Dane/wolf hybrid bitch with a litter of 12 puppies!

I will definitely be staying on the payroll through the winter, with who knows what happening in the summer. I need to find new housing and actually -- dum dum DAHHHH -- pay rent, so I can use the extra money. And StewBoss has no problem with my working two days a month, and both those days being Fridays, and hours being daytime, so it won't interfere with my weekends.

Monday I will be checking out a 2BR first-floor flat in beautiful downtown Schuylerville, downstairs from where Julie lives (but won't be for long). The price is right (just a teensy bit over the recommended 25 percent of monthly take-home pay), the location rocks and the landlord has no problem with the three cats.

Body and brain are fried, so not much more to say tonight. I'll be back.

Color me Wobbly

My IWW membership materials came in the mail today. Pretty impressive considering I only mailed the application a week ago. Yay USPS!

Someone needs to explain to me why the membership card is way too big to fit in a standard wallet. How can I be a card-carrying member when there's no place to carry the card? Oh, I get it: I'm supposed to carry it in the pocket of my overalls with my Little Red Songbook. But I rarely wear overalls, so I guess I'll have to carry it in my checkbook. Which sorta goes against the union's anti-capitalist ideology. Geez, overanalyze much?

Because I feel no need to organize either of my workplaces, where I am treated very well, I feel like a bit of a poseur (poseuse?). But as I said in an earlier post, my meager financial and substantial spiritual contribution to the IWW go toward improving conditions for those who truly are suffering. I look forward to making some small difference.

RG, a longtime Wobbly with whom I discussed IWW matters at length recently, is not aware of this blog's existence, but I send him a message of solidarity and support. Dear, give your body and your brain a break when they need it, but let your spirit, which is not vulnerable to physical ills, keep up the good fight.

Solidaridad por siempre.

Wanted: Some incompetent baggage handlers ...

... to help me lose mine. They do it for the airlines all the time, and I could stand to get rid of some of my emotional baggage.

Over the past couple of years the load has gotten very heavy, and I have no one to blame but myself ... OK, maybe Toxic Jock for some of it, the bastard. But I bought those bags and packed them, and lately it seems as if every time WB does or says something the least bit negative or critical, I unpack the whole lot, and it gets very messy.

We went through this once before, about eight years ago, and it did pass. I hope this does too, because it is a very uncomfortable and oppressive way to live.

In other news: StewBoss wanted to know today if I would consider staying on the payroll, working a couple of days a month on the assumption that I'll be back next summer. Corporate doesn't like people jumping on and off the payroll.

Fact is, I really don't WANT to be back next summer, but somehow I'm tempted by the idea of working that extra couple of days every month, especially if they could be Fridays and during the day. And they do need help in the summer, and the extra money comes in handy, and I can start after GGG, quit before Last Gasp and get Champlain weekend off, as I did this year. I told her I'd think about it. This is me thinking about it...

Saw one of my ex-students today, a cute little 7th grader who is now a not-so-little 9th grader. As WB would say, see what happens when you keep feeding them?

Me love blogs!

They have taken the place of my talk radio fetish of a few years back. Which arose out of working spotty hours and having no cable. Now the only talk show I listen to is TJ's.

What fueled both fetishes is my interest in others' opinions, on all kinds of subjects. With regard to my friends' blogs, I am also interested in what folks with whom I am not in frequent phone or e-mail contact are up to.

Blogs I visit regularly include those of my friends (thekifpit, twinkletoze, changeseverything, everybodylovesbeansworld, ambiguous, mrs_pi). I also check out albanyeye (local media), babynamewizard (naming trends) and theslot (copy editing and language geekery) at least once a week. Have also found, via Google, a variety of blogs related to movies, TV and language, with links to other blogs re same.

It's easy to get lost in the blogosphere. Good though.

Best. Wedding. Ever.

And I've been to quite a few, including my own.

Most everyone who reads this blog knows who the Threesome is. For the benefit of those who don't (Hi Digi! Hi RF!), they are three excellent young people -- two women and a man -- in their late 20s/early 30s. The two women -- one of whom is the daughter of my bestest bud, JB -- met in college and had a commitment ceremony in 1997. A few years later they met the guy and brought him into their relationship. Yesterday's ceremony was a renewal of vows for the women and an official sealing of their union with him -- well, official as it can be given that such unions are not recognized by law.

Back in the day, slave marriages were not recognized by law either, so slaves sealed their union by jumping over a broom together, a ritual that the Threesome incorporated into their own ceremony, along with the Quaker tradition of having all present sign their marriage certificate. Beyond that it was a very straightforward and very sweet Unitarian ceremony.

They have taken a new last name, and I'm not going to tell you what it is here because of my tradition of using initials/pseudonyms in my blog, but Johnson it appears Rivers somewhere Love in this Marshall sentence Lipschitz. The curious can e-mail me.

I contradanced at the reception with WB and -- a first! -- with JB. We partied into the night and sang songs and ate JB Soup. And I was up before dawn to make the trip home and get ready for work. Good, though.

And I will tell WB this directly, but let the record show he did a KICKASS job as on-site coordinator/troubleshooter, or as the Threesome dubbed him, dictator. He could easily make his living at this. Rest well, dear; you earned it.

I know one member of the family checks into this blog semi-regularly. She probably won't see it until after the honeymoon (bon voyage, mes amis!), but when she does I hope she will pass along the following kudos to those who don't read it:

MJ's mom: Excellent father-daughter/mother-son dance for six!

RS's sister: With that voice you were born to be a minister! Nice work.

All 'rents: You have raised three of the finest people I have ever had the privilege to call friends.

Future children of this union: You are the luckiest little rugrats in the world to be born into such a family.

To the Threesome themselves: I am pretty damn lucky too -- make that blessed and honored -- to have been part of your special day and to be part of your extended family. Thank you.

I'd better stop now because tears can really mess up a keyboard.

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!

That is the new pseudonym for Toxic Jock's significant other, not that I expect to have much use for it here. But he seems to mention her with such frequency that it brings out my inner Jan Brady and my "beautiful bean footage" reflex. For those not in the know, "Roll that beautiful bean footage" (tm Jay Bush) is the new "Shut the fuck up!"

Why? I don't want to have what she's having. I don't feel punched in the gut or slapped in the face every time I hear her name, as I did that first time. I guess it's because I bonded with her, every mention of her feels like another invalidation of all I went through re TJ. Now it's not only him ignoring all the hell I went through; it's her, too, even though she shared and sympathized with my pain at one time.

I so need some Vitamin R.

www.iww.org

Ironic that such a leftist organization should have so many dubyas in its URL, no?

I have been to their website and will be printing out the form to join tomorrow. No printer set up at home yet because of a shortage of outlets in the power strip. If anyone at work is tracking my online activity or sees my IWW bumper sticker and gets suspicious, I shall tell them this: I feel no need to organize my workplace because they treat us decently. I pay the dues, wear the shirt and support the IWW in solidarity/support of those who still need our help: the migrants, the child sweatshop workers and sex slaves, the Southern chicken processing plant workers who would rather wear Depends on the job than ask for a bathroom break.

Corresponding with BFG and anticipating the Trio's wedding has had me thinking a lot about the nature of love. Back in the day, BFG wanted to unite himself, his wife and me into one happy family. She and I made the effort but our hearts weren't in it because we both wanted him for ourselves; we were only going along with the threesome idea to please him and secretly hoping he would choose one of us -- the bigger trouper about the whole idea. I remain an old-fashioned girl, a one-man woman who wants a one-woman man and doesn't want to share. I have the greatest admiration for the Trio for pulling off the arrangement without jealousy issues intruding. Maybe because the women were together first, so there's not the baggage of competing for the Very Special Affection of The Guy.

Love can be so simple, yet so complicated. Once when WB and I were discussing my TJ obsession, I reiterated that I never had sex with him. His reply: "You act like this is all about sex!" Well, guess what, for me it is. I feel love for many people, some of them male. But the only one I have any desire to have sex with is the one I love the most. For me sex is the ultimate expression of love and not to be shared lightly. So in my twisted little mind, the one I am having sex with has no reason to feel threatened by those I care deeply for but am not getting nekkid with.

Thoughts on this would be most welcome. Goodnight, all.

Good times, great oldies ...

One of the best Champlain Valley Folk Festivals ever!

Yes, June C., I said Hi to Champ for you. I didn't see him but we passed Champ's General Store by the Crown Point Bridge, and I said hi as we passed, coming and going. He must be putting in long hours at that store as he is not hanging out in the lake -- just sending zebra mussels to do his dirty work.

As WB put it, festival pushed lots of good buttons. Kim and Reggie. Magpie. IWW centennial (yes, I am joining up). Heather Wood of Poor Old Horse singing "Lonesome Robin" dedicated to Helen Schneyer. Dan Berggren singing "Old Green Sweater" and "Baa Baa Black Sheep," participating in our a cappella sing Sunday night in the campground, and giving me (a) the words to his secular "Angel Band" and (b) props for MY singing. No. 2 daughter of WB leading songs. Meeting friends of N2DOWB. Talking to N2DOWB like an adult. Fine chow from Chez Jake. Bethel's brickle.

U. Utah Phillips -- yaay! So many Utah one liners, so little time:

On being invited to move to Canada and get away from all the current bullshit: Miscellaneous rantings on how things used to be a LOT worse here and people gave their lives to make them better, followed by "No. It's MY country. It's just been taken over by assholes and I want it back!"

"So many conservative Christians, so few lions."

"Politics. From the Greek: Poly = many. Ticks = bloodsucking insects."

On speaking at a graduation: "This is one of those occasions where people will tell you that you (young people) are our most valuable natural resource. Do you know what we DO to our valuable natural resources?" (Followed by rant on strip mining, etc.)

Musical and political batteries duly recharged. Twice-fermented apple brandy from Transylvania duly consumed, and hangover duly endured. Good to be home with Abby, Ed and Rozita, who are all well.

Any CVFF denizens who happen to be reading this, thank you for EVERYTHING. LuvU2bits.

Look what we've done to the old mother tongue

Thanks to Eric Bogle for the title of this post. Just thinking recently for some reason about the changing meanings of some trendy words:

"Gay": No, not going to rant about how "gay" used to mean "happy" and those damn hommasexshuls co-opted it. "Gay" has undergone a weird transformation. I hear younger folks using it as a synonym for weird, strange, goofy. I remember Boss Lady (early 30s) a few years back reading us something she'd written, prefaced by: "Does this sound gay?" She didn't mean "Does this sound homosexual?" She meant, "Does this sound not quite right?" Best I can conclude is that "gay" now has the old meaning of "queer" -- as in "weird." Of course, the gay community has taken back the word "queer" and taken the sting out of it. It's all quite ... strange.

"Diva": I've always thought of this as a description for a star, usually a singer and always female, whose talent, star quality and personality were all larger than life: Maria Callas, Barbra Streisand, Judy Garland, Diana Ross. It's morphed into an insult relatively equivalent to "self-centered bitch who thinks she's all that" or alternately, "female celeb riding a wave of popularity." Or both. Britney, you are not a diva. You're just embarrassing. You too, Faith.

"Princess": For those of us raised on fairy tales, it conjures up images of a sweet, lovely girl with the good fortune to have been born into royalty and who gets to wear beautiful dresses and marry a prince. If we were lucky, we had daddies who called us princess. Now, like "diva," it's an insult, applied to spoiled bitches who consider themselves entitled. Lookin' at you, KJ! You too, Paris! I guess it started in the '70s with the term "Jewish-American Princess." This one bugs me because I look at my cat Rozita and think princess because she is a delicate beauty with classy, not-alley-cat looks, but every time I call her the P word, I wince inside because I've heard the word used as an insult so many times lately.

I'm not losing sleep over these little changes in TOMT, just sayin'. But isn't it refreshing to read a post that's not about my navel gazing? I am such a diva!

Blasting the past

I have been corresponding with an old friend. OK, old lover. Hereinafter BFG (his actual initials), though I'm tempted to call him BFD just because.

Old story, too: I was bored and Googled him. Old feelings reignited after 20 years? Not on my part, just curiosity. On his part? Well, let's just say he knows not to go there.

We talked on the phone and it was a bit awkward, but I hope we'll do it again when it's more comfortable. Part of the awkwardness was crappy cell phone connection, part because after 20 years of no contact, who knows where to start? From how's the job, what are you driving these days, to the innocent memories (so-and-so died, such-and-such a hangout folded) to the heavy stuff: "You KNOW where I was coming from back then, don't you?"

Got me thinking, though, about the whole soulmate issue. Back in the day, I took desperate measures and compromised my principles to hold onto BFG because I thought he was my soulmate and we were destined to be together, yada yada yada.

Now I realize that my soul has many facets and each facet has its mate(s). WB is still No. 1 soulmate and love but can't be everything. For girl talk and gossip there's June C. For goofy wordplay and wits-matching in several languages over beer and smokes there's JB. For political debate there's all of the above and more. For TV/pop culture talk there's Mrs. JB and RF. For a good old-fashioned night out drinking (but not too much, gotta drive), there's Digigal. For making music, well, I'd run out of bandwidth trying to list them all. I would like to see BFG occupy a spot in that universe of mine without trying to take over.

I am blessed to be in a world of good people, or as I like to call it, the asshole-free zone. Looking forward to being in that zone this weekend.