niicelaady

Bye-bye, Blogger

2007-03-22T17:22:00.000-07:00

I'm going to move my blog over to LiveJournal, where I've had a placeholder account for several months so I can respond to my LJ friends' posts.

Blogger was already unwieldy for me because it doesn't support older browsers (a pet peeve of mine), but it got worse after the Google takeover. I can't even respond to comments on my OWN blog, let alone others. LJ is not exactly perfect for an IE 5.1 user but it's a wee bit easier to navigate.

If you are an LJ user in my circle, do friend me! If you are a Blogger or Wordpress user, be patient and I will get links to your blog up as soon as I figure out how. Meanwhile, check me out at niicelaady.livejournal.com.

What is good writing?

2007-03-04T02:03:00.000-08:00

Prompted by a thread elsewhere on the net. My bottom line: As a certain Supreme Court justice says about porn, I know it when I see it.

Hemingway ... Clear, concise, stark, to the point. A role model for writers everywhere.

Bret Harte ... Flowery to the point of nauseating, but "The Luck of Roaring Camp" makes me tear up.

Robert James Waller ... see Bret Harte. "The Bridges of Madison County" made me bawl like a baby.

Dorothy Parker ... Queen of the cynics, whose cynicism was born of deep personal pain. Her wit was unrivaled and her similes are brilliant (of a bride on her honeymoon trip: "She looked as new as a peeled egg.").

Stephen King ... Creates characters I want as neighbors (except for the possessed ones)

John Grisham ... Master of the "OMG!" ending

Edna Ferber ... A she-ro of mine for the incredible female characters she created: born idealists believing in happily-ever-after, molded by real life into something so much stronger and more beautiful than any fairytale heroine.

Dr. Seuss and Ogden Nash: I would read them here and there, I would read them anywhere. They make me laugh, they make me smile. I'd read them a good long while.

My point? Some of these writers are considered Great Masters. Others are commercial "hacks." Some are considered masters today but were hacks in their time. And I love them all.

Shock-Jock Politics

2007-02-26T04:38:00.000-08:00

So I sat down and wrote dis pome. At 4 a.m.

What my activist friends don't know
Is that I didn't care about the '04 election,
Not really, not passionately,
Until Janet Jackson:
The Nipple Shot Heard 'Round the World.

War on terror?
War on Oedipus?
Thousands of lives lost for oil and a spoiled rich boy's ego?
Of course I knew it was wrong.
Of course I was against it.

But none of that fueled my passion
Like the War on Free Speech,
the war on "tits" and "asshole" and "bitch" and "bastard" --
the war on you.
Because I believed in you.

I wouldn't dream of marching to save our young men's and women's lives
Or save innocent Iraqi lives.
But when they came after you
And your right to spew your bile on the public airwaves,
that's when I began to scream, "Bush has to go!"

Defender of peace?
Defender of life?
No, in 2004,
I was the defender of you.
Because you touched me
With your words,
With your hands,
With your eyes,
And I believed in you.

They called you ugly.
They called you mean.
They called you rude.
I called you brilliant
and misunderstood.

And you called me freak,
You called me stalker,
You called me pushy,
When you called me at all.
And all I wanted to understand
Was how could I be the pushy one
When you started pushing first?

Today
I call you liar,
I call you player,
I call you evil.

I still scream, "Bush has to go!"
Because like you, he is a liar
Who has ruined lives.
But you no longer fuel my political passion.
The market has had its way with you,
and I rejoice.
Term limits will have their way with him,
and I rejoice
and sing out and speak up and who knows? I may even march
to bring a sane and peace-loving voice to the White House
two years from now.

As for your voice,
I'm not listening anymore.

Comforted but also pissed!

2007-02-21T21:00:00.000-08:00

I recently heard from a fellow "survivor" of Toxic Jock Syndrome, aka the J.R. Gach Experience.

I will protect her identity and I won't quote her words here, but suffice to say that I had been dying to talk to someone who experienced not just "something like" what J.R. did to me, but the exact same thing. It is very comforting to know that I am not alone. There are others; we could get quite the support group going if we all found one another.

But I can't help but being VERY angry -- not at her, at him -- to discover that not only did J.R. feed her the same bullshit he fed me, but he did it to both of us SIMULTANEOUSLY, in March of 2003.

So while this RAT BASTARD was telling me how beautiful and brilliant and witty I was and that I might just be The One, he was telling someone else the SAME THING at the SAME TIME!

This dispelled any lingering notions I might have had that he actually DID feel something for me. It was never real. It was all lies, all a game. I knew that, but I guess I still had some hope that maybe there was something real there, even if it was just his bipolar disorder talking.

And as pissed as I am at him, I am just as pissed at myself. I wasted almost two years of my life, almost threw away the best relationship I ever had, and let my finances go down the toilet, and am still trying to recover from all that, over NOTHING. It's as if I trashed all that was real and beautiful in my life to pursue something that LOOKED real and beautiful but turned out to be a mirage ... or a robot.

Some have said that I should get over it already, but it is easier said than done when I have daily reminders, FOUR YEARS LATER, of the damage his stupid game playing did to me -- depression, fucked-up finances, lingering issues with NiiceDuude.

Twenty years ago I dated a guy who, when I complained about something not being fair, would whip out a dictionary and say, "You want fair? It's in here!" Even JFK said life isn't fair. But I still crave some fairness, some justice from this experience -- even a simple acknowledgment from the Toxic One that what he did to me was unconscionable. But of course, he has no conscience, so he doesn't know the meaning of that word.

You're good, Junior. You are so fucking charismatic that you sucked me in without even addressing me personally. Your words on the radio were enough to have me thinking you would be tons of fun to hang out with. Then when you did start addressing me personally, with just the right words ... I was so sure there was something very special there.

Remember the show about the married woman coming on to Pi? There were some comments, from you, him and callers, about how married women are "sticky" -- as in, you can't get rid of them after you've had your way with them. They go and divorce their husbands and take other drastic measures you wish they hadn't. All for you.

Know why? Because for a woman in a committed relationship to even THINK about getting with someone else, what she is feeling for that someone else has to be extraordinary. She's thinking that maybe she picked wrong all those years ago and this could be The One. That is what you made me feel with your MEANINGLESS words. And my life is a shambles because of them.

This post is morphing into an e-mail that I desperately want to send to him but probably won't because he will either block it or make fun of it. But it felt good to write it. Time to stop.

R.I.P., Anna Nicole

2007-02-08T23:06:00.000-08:00

I wasn't a fan of hers in life and even dissed her in print. I never understood the appeal of people like Anna Nicole Smith and Paris Hilton who are famous merely for being famous.

But this woman touched people. C.W. Nevius of the San Francisco Chronicle has a very moving and well-written column that explains why.

She was beautiful. She was rich. But she was not immune to pain. She came from poverty. She struggled with her weight, like so many of us. She suffered the worst tragedy that can befall a parent: the death of her own child. And she leaves behind a tiny baby too young to remember Mommy.

And I may go to hell for saying this, but it wouldn't surprise me if Lisa Marie Nowak is breathing a huge sigh of relief that this story has pushed hers off the front page.

Rest in peace, Anna.

Why Lisa Nowak lost it

2007-02-08T00:34:00.000-08:00

I'm fascinated by the story of Lisa Nowak, the astronaut who stalked and assaulted her romantic rival and is now facing attempted murder charges. Um, doesn't attempted murder imply actually attempting to kill someone? She had some nasty props with her, but the only thing she actually used on Colleen Shipman was pepper spray -- which is unpleasant, but not life-threatening.

It's not morbid curiosity at a sensational story that has me following this story so closely. It's grabbed me because I have been there. No, I have never physically harmed anyone I thought I loved, or his significant other. I haven't even fantasized about it. But I have been driven to distraction on many, many occasions because I was so sure that I was meant to be with someone who didn't want to be with me. I'm not just talking about J.R. Before my life was derailed by his seductive lies, there were many others. I remember my college semesters not by which courses I was taking but which guy I was obsessed with.

Certain people love to blame sex and graphic violence in entertainment for all the ills of society. The kids play Grand Theft Auto or listen to rap and metal, they'll turn into criminals. They see scantily clad girls gyrating in music videos, hawking beer or getting it on with hot guys on the soaps, here come the teen pregnancies and STDs.

They're missing a far more insidious influence in our media, one that predates television, movies and recorded music. It's the Myth of the Soul Mate.

It's everywhere, in Greek mythology, in Shakespeare, in movies, soaps, romance novels and songs. Oh, the songs. "Can't live if livin' is without you." "Oh, dear God, it must be him, or I shall die!" Shall I go on?

And we -- women mostly, but guys aren't immune -- believe that there is one person we are destined to be with. Sometimes that belief is fueled by hormones -- the sex is incredible, or the desire he makes me feel is overwhelming. Sometimes it's intellectual -- the conversations we have are brilliant, we enjoy all the same things, finish each other's sentences, he laughs at all my jokes. For me, it's generally been the latter. I'm a sucker for anyone who laughs at my jokes and thinks like me (people who think like me are a rare breed).

If that person doesn't want to be with us, we panic. How can they defy destiny? We are driven to do whatever it takes to change his mind.

Susan Smith and Diane Downs killed their children because they were in love with men who didn't want kids.

Betty Broderick shot her husband and his lover, and Jean Harris killed her ex-lover, because they couldn't stand the thought of their beloved being with someone else.

Amy Fisher tried to kill Mary Jo Buttafuoco because she thought if MJ was out of the picture, she and Joey could be together at last.

And Lisa Nowak tried to take action -- at this writing, it was unclear what she wanted that action to be -- against the woman she thought stood between her and the man she loved, the man she reportedly left her husband for.

I don't think for a minute that these women shouldn't have been punished for what they did. Killing and maiming others is a crime, and those who do it should be locked up in prison or a mental hospital, if they are truly delusional and not LEGALLY responsible.

BUT ... if we weren't being fed this constant diet of "if it feels this good, you must be the one, and there's no other in the world," we would be less likely to take drastic measures to hold onto or win back the person we perceive as The One, or kill ourselves if The One refuses our affections.

Listen up, girls: There is no such thing as A Soul Mate, what Dr. Susan Forward ("Obsessive Love") calls the One Magic Person, or as Demi Moore's character put it in the movie "The Butcher's Wife," a split-apart. You don't have an "other half." If you aren't a whole person, you aren't a good candidate to build a relationship with another whole person.

It's not a tragedy if HE doesn't love you. It's a disappointment, nothing more. There are lots of others with whom you can click just as beautifully, and who have the potential to become your Mr. Wonderful. Go read "He's Just Not That Into You," then go find them!

And I've said this before, but I'll say it again: The soul has many facets, and each one has its mate(s). Most Messrs. Wonderful suck at girl talk, and unless you're gay/bi, your girlfriends won't satisfy you sexually. Friend A may be your political soul mate, while Friend B is the one you bond with over movies, and Friend C is the one with whom you share the secrets you won't even share with your lover/spouse.

This isn't a lecture. This is hard-won wisdom from someone who has been there, done that, and got the T-shirt, the soundtrack album AND the bumper sticker.

OMG, maybe I am nuts!

2007-01-23T21:35:00.001-08:00

Apologies to those who have read this on the Box or my board. I'm looking for feedback on this wherever I can find it.

My counselor has said before (we have only had four sessions) that she thinks my problems might be biochemically based. She repeated that tonight, only she used the word "psychiatric."

Me: OK, I know you're not an M.D. (she's a Clinical Social Worker), but if you had to take a stab at it, what does your gut say in terms of what meds I should be on? Antidepressants? Anti-anxiety? Antipsychotic? (the last said with a smile, which she returned).

Her: Well, you need a psychiatrist to make a real diagnosis, but I'm thinking maybe an anxiety disorder, maybe a mood disorder ...

Me (semi-facetiously): I KNEW IT! Bipolar disorder is contagious! (I used to joke about this all the time because JR had me on such an emotional roller coaster.)

But seriously, she thinks I might very well have Bipolar II. I always thought of bipolar as being bouncing off the walls, staying up all night, yada yada, followed by a crash and maybe suicidal thoughts. Not me.

But that's Bipolar I. With Bipolar II, things are more subtle. My obsessive streak -- which led to getting hijacked by JR, to an ill-advised attempt at a midlife career change, to crushes on friends that have driven them away -- could very well be my own BPII form of "mania." And I don't get suicidal, but I definitely can get into funks where I'm down on myself and feel useless, worthless and hopeless. I had a bad one just this weekend.

I'm withholding judgment until I DO see an M.D., but it certainly would explain a lot.

And if it turns out I am bipolar, I'll do the one thing I still admire JR for: I'll be open about it and do my part to erase the stigma attached to mental illness. That book I'm working on might go in a whole new direction -- who knows?

Lots to think about.

Week from hell ... and it's only Wednesday

2007-01-17T20:43:00.000-08:00

Saturday: NiiceDuude and I are supposed to go to a birthday party at the brew pub for a friend of ours -- a small-f friend, not someone we're supertight with. I am stone broke, and I have a meltdown because I simply don't have the $20 or so it would cost to order a couple of beers and an entree (I'm assuming this is a let's all meet at the brewpub, order off the menu, Dutch treat, sing Happy Birthday kind of party). I don't want to ask ND to spot me -- he's done too much of that over the past few years. So I tell him to go without me if he wants. I go home, spend the whole day wallowing on the poverty pity pot. He did go to the pub and it turns out a buffet was provided an the drinks were covered. It wouldn't have cost me anything! D*mn!

Sunday: I'm feeling better, but Mother Nature isn't. The Mother of All Ice Storms arrives. I'm a wuss about winter driving, so even though the roads are reasonably passable, I worry about what they'll be like after dark, when, if I went to our monthly folk club meeting, I'd be coming home (about 40 miles). So I skip that. I'm starting to have flashbacks to the Toxic Jock Syndrome years, when I isolated myself from ND, friends and fun stuff. Different reasons now, but same outcome.

Monday: Is a holiday in the U.S. but I don't get the day off. I take the day off because the driving is still hinky. I have paid time, Mondays are a slow day at my job, no biggie.
Then my power goes out. Stays out for a couple of hours, comes back on for about three, goes out AGAIN. Out all night. I have electric heat. I'm chilly but not freezing.
Tuesday: Normal work day. I get home, still no power. I pack clothes and go to NiiceDuude's house. He's out playing with his band so I let myself in. Pleasant evening.

Today: I get up, shower, dress, leave ND's around 5:30 a.m. Temperature is in the single digits. My car is making a huge racket, but I figure it's just cold. Its previous owner was the Commonwealth of Virginia, this is the first really cold day of its life.
Nope, wasn't cold. I had a flat tire! By the time I figured this out, the tire was SHREDDED.

I'm not far from ND's house. I call him out of his nice warm bed and he comes to try to change the tire. It's dark, it's freezing, the tire isn't budging, the jack slips ... we call AAA and sit in his car and wait an hour for them to arrive.

AAA guy puts on the spare, I'm on my way. The ride is kind of loud and bumpy, but I figure that's par for the course with these "doughnut" spares that are smaller than the other wheels and only designed to get you to the nearest Tires R Us.

It gets worse. You guessed it, the spare is toast, too. Fortunately, I'm able to limp into the next town and find a garage. They fix me up with a new tire -- for $70 that I don't have. Fortunately I DO have a bank that is very forgiving about overdrafts.

There is some good news: My power is back on. While I was at ND's last night, I ran into his landlord and got him to deal with some nagging problems ND had been having with the place (LL's job has him keeping goofy hours so ND is reluctant to knock on his door when he's home for fear of waking him.)

But darn, I am exhausted. Is it Friday yet? Is it next Friday (payday) yet?

Sorry to go on and on ... anyone got some cheese to go with my whine?

Obsession pays off ... or does it?

2007-01-04T23:11:00.000-08:00

This is an edited version of another Catbox post.

I have read and heard over the years that everything we do, we do because there is a "payoff"; we are getting something out of it.

I have no dealings with Toxic Jock (that's J.R. Gach, for those who might be Googling) whatsoever. It's been almost four years since he did his hit-and-run emotional rape act, and more than two years since I broke free of the acute obsession that had me e-mailing him daily, trying to reawaken those (false) feelings he'd once expressed for me.

BUT ... I still think about him a LOT. With anger, resentment and bitterness. I despise him for what he did to me, my psyche, my finances and my relationships. I resent him for my being in this situation where every day is still a struggle to repair all those damaged parts of my life.

I still check radio boards daily -- several times daily -- for news about him, preferably news that his career and/or his current relationship have crashed and burned. He just started his new venture -- an Internet radio show -- this week, so there has been more news than usual on the Internet, and I am devouring it. (The relationship is still intact. I refuse to listen to his show, but word from those who have is that it's horrible.)

I find myself in this condition mostly during the work week, when I am not interacting with others. (I live alone and I work as a writer/copy editor, which doesn't require much face-to-face with my co-workers.) When I'm with NiiceDuude, with friends, practicing with the Solidarity Singers or Pokingbrook, Toxic rarely if ever pops into my head.)

And I wonder WHY. What am I getting out of this? What's the payoff for hanging onto these feelings of bitterness, resentment and hatred?

Could it be that letting it go would feel like downplaying, minimizing or invalidating what he did? HE is not wasting a nanosecond on me, so perhaps my expending so much energy on it is my way of ensuring that it doesn't go unacknowledged/unpunished. (Like being the only one visiting someone's grave regularly, to make sure that somebody remembers.) Except that the one who really DESERVES the punishment isn't getting it; I am.

And I WANT him punished. I am THIS CLOSE to writing the "Oh, my God, you killed NiiceLaady! You bastard!" letter, and sending it, even though I know that it will probably go unanswered ... and laughed at.

My obsession no longer feels like something out of my control. I feel as if I can stop it, IF I can find the cause.

I posted this later:

This is the thought that came to me today as I was reading and digesting everyone's responses:

"SOMEONE has to take it seriously!"

I wasn't just "loved and left." I was emotionally raped. This man (and I use that term loosely) pretended to have feelings for me that caused me to have feelings I didn't even WANT to have, then tossed me aside. This turned my world upside down and inside out and shrank it to a tiny J.R.-sized ball of pain. For almost TWO YEARS.

Letting go, to me, means giving in to all the well-meaning folks (not here) who have told me, "Jeez, get over it already. What's the big deal? You can barely call what you had a relationship. And you've got a great guy! Why do you even give a cr@p about J.R.? He's not worth it!"

It IS a big deal, and someone has to keep making it one until ...

Until what? That's the big question.

I am SO glad I have a therapist visit tomorrow.

Wanna-do list revisited

2007-01-02T01:04:00.000-08:00

Last year I didn't make resolutions; I made a "wanna-do" list instead (thanks SyncretistFool). Here's how it worked out.

Practice guitar at least once a week. (didn't happen)

Play music with NiiceDuude at least twice a month. (a couple of times but not once a month)

Meet my cyberfriend Bean in person (not yet).

Visit the library at least once a month. (every other month is more like it)

Find some interesting low/no-carb recipes. (found a couple)

Get to know MMB better. (on our way)

Learn "A Gathering of Spirits." (a great song, but not yet)

Learn "Calling All the Children Home." (see previous)

Create a morris dance to "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" for the Tulip Festival. (did that)

Sell at least one article or short story. (no)

Call my mom more, and send her pictures. (working on that)

Save something out of each paycheck. (tried but failed -- too much fiscal baggage/back debts from the Toxic Jock era)

Get a professional bra fitting. (yes, but I'm still not satisfied)

Resume home brewing. (yes, made a batch for NiiceDuude's birthday in November)

Finish baby afghans for my expectant friends and co-worker. (done)

Buy a pair of jeans that fits and flatters. (done)

Plant something in my flower bed. (done)

Get new glasses. (done)

Attend doo-wop at least once a month. (more like every other, but not my fault! As soon as I get back in, other things intervene -- it gets canceled, or ND and I have other commitments)

Exercise peripheral vision. (no)

Learn all the words to "That's What Friends Are For" (if only I could find them)

Buy an Old Songs Brick with "It's a Pleasure to Know You." (done)

Offer something on Freecycle at least once a month. (went long stretches without, but did some binges, so I think it evens out)

Try to make someone else's day as often as possible. (yes)

Dig out one of the craft supplies I bought years ago (rug braiding kit, copper cross-stitch magnets) and complete a project. (no)

Make dinner (or breakfast, or both) for NiiceDuude at least once a month. (more like every other, it is more convenient to stay at his place than to have him here)

Host an a cappella sing. (no)

So all the things I didn't get to are on my wanna-do list for 2007. All the things I did get to, I hope to keep doing.

Oh, yeah, and lose 50 pounds.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Cough hack blow sniff achoo!

2006-12-27T21:14:00.000-08:00

And what did you get for Christmas, NiiceLaady?

Well, let's see ... Secret Santa #1 gave me an excellent CD and a lovely bookmark. Secret Santa #2 gave me nice warm gloves. NiiceDuude gave me a Borders gift card. NiiceDuudette #1 gave me athlete's foot (see below). And Santa must be losing his hearing, because instead of bringing this naughty girl coal, he brought me a COLD.

I know I'm being a big baby. It's just a cold. It's not cancer, diabetes or anything permanently disabling or life-threatening. But it's no fun being the Snot Farm That Walks Like a Woman. And I have yet to find an OTC cold remedy that works for me. Latest experiment: Eckerd's equivalent of Tylenol Severe Cold Multi-Symptom. Drugs consumed. Multiple symptoms still here.

BTW, the photo is of the common cold virus from giantmicrobes.com, where you can buy these cute plush models of assorted germs, bugs and microbes. This is where NiiceDuudette #1 got me athlete's foot. Last year she gave her father yeast and her sister syphilis.

Hope everyone had a good Christmas/Hanukkah/Solstice/Yule/Festivus/Whatever. And I hope to recover in time to celebrate the New Year.

Virtual hugs to all, because you don't want real ones from me right now!

Do I tawk funny?

2006-12-26T21:02:00.000-08:00

No, but being born in Boston, I do listen funny. Thanks, Mir.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: Boston   You definitely have a Boston accent, even if you think you don't. Of course, that doesn't mean you are from the Boston area, you may also be from New Hampshire or Maine.
The West
The Midland
North Central
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The Inland North
The South
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

Have yourself a meme-y little Christmas

2006-12-20T23:42:00.000-08:00

Found in the Catbox:

Questions filled with the Christmas Spirit

1. Eggnog or hot chocolate? Jake's eggnog, served hot with whipped egg whites, brandy AND rum!

2. Does Santa wrap presents or just sit them under the tree? He used to wrap the small stuff and leave the big/awkwardly sized gifts unwrapped for the "wow" factor when I first saw the tree.

3. Coloured or white lights on tree/house? I don't do lights but if I did, I'd do colored on the tree and a combo on the house.

4. Do you hang mistletoe? No. I don't need an excuse to kiss my love.

5. When do you put your decorations up? I don't decorate because I generally celebrate at other people's houses.

6. What is your favourite holiday dish (excluding dessert)? NiiceDuude's corn pudding.

7. Favourite holiday memory as a child? Decorating the tree.

8. When and how did you learn the truth about Santa? I let slip at school that I believed in the Tooth Fairy and my classmates gave me chapter and verse about her, the Easter Bunny and Santa. Bitches. How old was I? Never mind.

9. Do you open a gift on Christmas eve? Not as a rule, but if someone gives me a gift on Christmas Eve, and I won't be seeing them on Christmas Day, of course I open it.

10. How do you decorate your Christmas tree? I don't (see question 5).

11. Snow....Love it?...or dread it? Love it, hate driving in it.

12. Can you ice skate? I could last time I tried, which was about 15 years ago, and it's like riding a bicycle, right?

13. Do you remember your favourite gift? Not A gift, but I remember the year I came home from church on Christmas Eve to find packages under the tree. My parents had told me there would be NONE that year because we were broke. There was nothing expensive: a Timex watch, a robe, stuff like that. But I was totally surprised and thrilled that there were any gifts at all. I was 15 or 16.

14. Best Christmas gift you ever gave? Can't remember. Ask the recipient.

15. What's the most important thing about the Holidays for you? Friends and music.

16. What is your favourite Holiday dessert? I've gotta pick ONE? Are you nuts?

17. What is your favourite Holiday tradition? Hot tub at the Wassail.

18. Turkey or ham on Christmas? Turkey of course!

19. Which do you prefer...giving or receiving? Giving.... although receiving don't hardly suck at all.

20. What is your favourite Christmas song? Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

21. Candy canes...yuck or yum? Yum!

22. Favourite Christmas movie or TV show? The Grinch and A Christmas Story.

23. Red or green? Yes.

24. Will you be on Santa's Naughty or Nice list? Naughty, I hope. I want to be where my friends are!

Your turn...

Happy birthday to me (and Jesus)

2006-12-11T23:02:00.000-08:00

A wise person once said there is a time when one should stop expecting others to make a fuss about one's birthday; that time is age 6.

So, 42 years after that date, I feel extremely blessed that so many have remembered:

NiiceDuude, who remembered my late October lust for some new cookware and gifted me with same (not to mention an adorable card);

My mom, brother and sister, who all called me with good wishes;

My co-workers, who plan to celebrate later this week when all of us will be present but took the time to wish me a Hippo Birdie on this, the actual day;

Rosalie, the Official Birthday Rememberer of the Pickin' and Singin' Gatherin'.

Speaking of birthdays, there's this other guy whose birthday gets celebrated around this time but with lots of baggage. I post this on His behalf. Don't know who wrote it, but it came from NiiceDuude's devout sister:

How to celebrate Christ's Birthday -- From Christ

Dear children,

It has come to my attention that many of you are upset that folks are taking My name out of the season. Maybe you've forgotten that I wasn't actually born during this time of the year and that it was some of your predecessors who decided to celebrate My birthday
on what was actually a time of pagan festival. Although I do appreciate being remembered anytime.

How I personally feel about this celebration can probably be most easily understood by those of you who have been blessed with children of your own. I don't care what you call the day. If you want to celebrate My birth just, GET ALONG AND LOVE ONE ANOTHER. Now, having said that let Me go on. If it bothers you that the town in which you live doesn't allow a scene depicting My birth, then just get rid of a couple of Santas and snowmen and put in a small Nativity scene on your own front lawn. If all My followers did that there wouldn't be any need for such a scene on the town square because there would be many of them all around town.

Stop worrying about the fact that people are calling the tree a holiday tree, instead of a Christmas tree. It was I who made all trees. You can & may remember Me anytime you see any tree. Decorate a grape vine if you wish: I actually spoke of that one in a teaching
explaining who I am in relation to you & what each of our tasks were. If you have forgotten that one, look up John 15: 1-8.

If you want to give Me a present in remembrance of My birth here is my wish list. Choose something from it.

1. Instead of writing protest letters objecting to the way My birthday is being celebrated, write letters of love and hope to soldiers away from home. They are terribly afraid and lonely this time of year. I know, they tell Me all the time.

2. Visit someone in a nursing home. You don't have to know them personally. They just need to know that someone cares about them.

3. Instead of writing George complaining about the wording on the cards his staff sent out this year, why don't you write and tell him that you'll be praying for him and his family this year. Then follow up. It will be nice hearing from you again.

4. Instead of giving your children a lot of gifts you can't afford and they don't need, spend time with them. Tell them the story of My birth, and why I came to live with you down here. Hold them in your arms and remind them that I love them.

5. Pick someone that has hurt you in the past and forgive him or her.

6. Did you know that someone in your town will attempt to take their own life this season because they feel so alone and hopeless? Since you don't know who that person is, try giving everyone you meet a warm smile; it could make the difference. Also, you might consider supporting the local hotline; they talk with people like that every day.

7. Instead of nitpicking about what the retailer in your town calls the holiday, be patient with the people who work there. Give them a warm smile and a kind word. Even if they aren't allowed to wish you a Merry Christmas that doesn't keep you from wishing them one. Then stop shopping there on Sunday. If the store didn't make so much money on that day they'd close and let their employees spend the day at home with their families.

8. If you really want to make a difference, support a missionary, especially one who takes My love & Good News to those who have never heard My name. You may already know someone like that.

9. Here's a good one. There are individuals & whole families in your town who not only will have no "Christmas" tree, but neither will they have any presents to give or receive. If you don't know them (and I suspect you don't) buy some food & a few gifts & give them to the Marines, the Salvation Army or some other charity which believes in Me & they will make the delivery for you.

10. Finally if you want to make a statement about your belief in and loyalty to Me, then behave like a Christian. Don't do things in secret that you wouldn't do in My presence. Let people know by your actions that you are one of mine.

P.S Don't forget; I am God and can take care of Myself. Just love Me & do what I have told you to do. I'll take care of all the rest. Check out the list above & get to work; time is short. I'll help you, but the ball is now in your court. And do have a most blessed Christmas with all those whom you love and remember.

I LOVE YOU
From Christ

Updates - what a marvelous invention!

2006-12-06T21:20:00.000-08:00

Finally did some long-overdue updates on this page! The link to the long-defunct Land of Confusion board is gone, and I have added links to my friend Miriam's blog, the excellent Saturncast -- a podcast by the husband of Bean (of Bean's World blog) fame, and Trubble's Catbox, a very busy forum for survivors of emotional abuse. I can be found commenting or posting on all those sites as NiiceLaady.

Speaking of Bean, she had surgery today. Even if you don't know her, please send her prayers and/or good thoughts. She's a cyberbud of mine, and she's worth it.

Here we go again ...

2006-12-05T20:31:00.000-08:00

Didn't I post on this like, a year ago?

Once again the Christians are complaining about the use of "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas," and some retailers have caved. No more "Happy Holidays"; their employees will wish everyone Merry Christmas whether they're Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Wiccan, atheist, whatever.

Most of my non-Christian peeps, including myself, have no problem with Merry Christmas, mmkay? As someone who doesn't believe that God was necessarily Jesus' biological babydaddy, I still admire the man for the message he preached,and I have no problem celebrating his birthday. I hate the commercialism of Christmas and have distanced myself from it. I don't buy gifts for all and sundry, although I do participate in Secret Santa at work and bring gifts to whomever I'm spending the 25th with. But I still love the holiday and ALL its traditions -- the music, the rituals (many of which have PAGAN roots) and most of all, the camaraderie.

Know what? I grew up in a time and place where political correctness and inclusiveness weren't an issue. Almost everyone I knew growing up was Catholic or Protestant. Until college I knew maybe four Jews, and wasn't close to them.

Back then I heard "Happy Holidays" ALL THE TIME. Know what it meant? MERRY CHRISTMAS and HAPPY NEW YEAR. Not "Happy whatever you celebrate because I don't want to risk offending you if you don't do Christmas." For Christians there are two holidays happening -- Christmas and New Year's. That's what "Happy Holidays" and "Season's Greetings" conveyed back in that less-confrontational era.

So I ask those Christians who are offended by "Happy Holidays": Why not just take the greeting in that spirit instead of getting all bent out of shape that we are "ignoring" your religious holiday? We're wishing you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year. The former a religious holiday (that many people celebrate as a secular one), the latter strictly secular.

BTW, to the right-wingnuts who wonder if you should wish Black people "happy Kwanzaa" instead of "merry Christmas," Kwanzaa is a CULTURAL celebration, not a religious holiday. It's a supplement, not a substitute, for Christmas or Hanukkah or Solstice or whatever. I have no statistics but I strongly suspect that given the prominent role the church plays in the Black community, most African-Americans who celebrate Kwanzaa also celebrate Christmas.

And to those believers who get annoyed that Christmas has become secularized, how many of you are getting into scuffles at the store over the last PS3 or Elmo? If you sincerely believe that Christmas is first and foremost a celebration of the birth of the Son of God, why are you buying into the mind-set that it's about STUFF? Go to church, sing carols, gather the family around, break bread, exchange simple gifts, help the less fortunate. Give the Santa booty a pass.

Just my $.02. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwazy Kwanzaa, Super Solstice, Cool Yule, Righteous Ramadan, Fabulous Festivus and hey, it's winter and we need an excuse to party. So happy WHATEVER!

Happy Birthday, NiiceDuude!

2006-11-30T01:02:00.000-08:00

The time stamp on this post will read the day after, but let the record show my beloved NiiceDuude turned 58 on Nov. 29 (yes, I like older guys).

His gift from me is a case of custom-brewed honey brown ale, which, unlike him, is taking its time aging gracefully. It should be drinkable by MY birthday, which is in a week and a half.

Let the record also show that I love you to bits, ND.

All my love, NL

Me 'n' God

2006-11-30T00:58:00.000-08:00

This is an edited version of my recent post to the Catbox (forum for abuse survivors) in response to a long thread started by a woman whose husband was becoming interested in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Thought it could use a wider audience -- ha! From the 5,000 or so who read the Box to the handful of people who regularly read my blog.

Screen names altered to protect privacy. Poster A told of being molested by some "good" Mormon boys when she was a girl. Poster B is the one with the husband interested in LDS.

((((((((((((((((((((((Poster A))))))))))))))))))))), I am so sorry for what you went through and understand that you are bitter toward the LDS church as a result. Sadly, though, it's not just an LDS problem. That sort of behavior can be found among the followers of just about every faith. Just look at the stories of pedophile priests, the Jimmy Swaggart and Ted Haggard sex scandals, etc., etc.

I've had no firsthand negative experiences with Mormons. I had a Mormon boss who was cool. NiiceDuude and I are friends with a woman who met and married a Mormon man, and converted to LDS. They divorced; I don't think he was outright abusive but did have certain expectations of a good Mormon wife that chafed her. She still belongs to the church and is raising their son in it. BTW, this was her second marriage; H1 was definitely abusive.

NiiceDuude and I often get into religious discussions; he is an atheist who thinks all religious beliefs are BS. I believe in a Supreme Being/divine order and think all religions have SOME grain of truth. They all say the same thing at their core: Honor and nurture the divine, however you perceive it (as God the Father, Mother Earth, the Inner Light, whatever), and, as the great Bill and Ted preached, "Be excellent to each other."

All the other stuff -- don't use birth control, don't eat pork, don't have homosexual relations, don't drink alcohol or caffeine, tithe 10 percent, pray X times a day facing Mecca -- are MAN-made. Some are practical; eating pork used to be quite risky, and for a people that had lots of enemies and needed to keep its numbers up by having lots of kids (remember infant mortality rates back then), "wasting" one's seed on a homosexual union would naturally be frowned upon.

The best way to enforce society's rules was for the powers that be to declare that they were God's rules and there would literally be hell to pay if you broke them. That's how a lot of these rules became religious doctrine. For many people today, however, they still work. Keeping kosher, for example, may be rooted in health and sanitation principles that no longer are a concern today, but it is a form of self-discipline that for those who follow it can build spiritual muscles.

IMO the best religious teachers are those who tell you there are many ways to salvation, enlightenment, whatever you choose to call it. I was raised Catholic but today don't subscribe to any organized religion because so many of them claim to be the ONLY way, and I don't believe there is one way. I could easily become a Quaker, a Wiccan, a Buddhist or a Unitarian, or a member of Kurt Vonnegut's fictional Church of God the Utterly Indifferent.

Poster B, I'm definitely getting a red flag from your H's interest in LDS. I have no personal issues with the church, but I'm guessing its attraction to him lies in its emphasis on the man as head of the household, which could easily be turned into a weapon in the wrong hands (i.e., those of a man with abusive leanings).

Darn, I'm long-winded. I shoulda been a preacher. Can I get an AY-men!

(Just barely) walking wounded

2006-11-20T23:48:00.000-08:00

I have a prescription for treatment at the excellent Core Physical Therapy for an issue I won't go into here. I haven't been in some time (mainly a scheduling problem) but have an appointment tomorrow.

I wonder if they can legally ignore the issue I have a prescription for and address a more painful matter.

A few weeks ago my left upper thigh started aching. I probably did something to it while morris dancing. If you don't know what morris is, suffice to say it's not exactly a low-impact workout. This was just a minor pull/strain/whatever that I figured would eventually go away on its own.

Then Friday night (for the record, I was stone sober at the time, this was BEFORE we went to the bar!) I took a nasty tumble on the concrete steps in front of NiiceDuude's porch. Hey, see that little step that's about 2" shorter than the others? I didn't!

I now have a hideous bruise about the size of Rhode Island on my calf, and there's also some swelling and tenderness. And let me tell you, bottling homebrew when it's painful to kneel on the floor is a fun ride indeed!

Then I spent most of Saturday at a morris workshop, which aggravated the muscle thing further north. I'm on the verge of asking MMB to lend me a cane.

Hey, physical therapist folks: Screw the original problem. Can you fix my leg? Or can we get this stem-cell thing off the ground so they can grow me a new one?

Bitch moan complain whine ....

BITE ME, AARP!

2006-10-31T20:46:00.000-08:00

This is getting silly.

My birthday is in December. I will be 48. Repeat, FORTY-EIGHT. Not 50. FORTY-FUCKING-EIGHT!

And yet, I get an invitation in the mail last week to join the American Association of Retired Persons. An organization that used to be for people over 65. Then in their infinite greed, they started coming after 60-year-olds. Then 55-year-olds. Now the minimum age is 50. But they aren't waiting for you to turn 50 to send the invitation, which used to be a complimentary copy of Modern Maturity magazine -- a practice immortalized in a Tom Paxton song:

Modern Maturity means you're getting old
Now you get the magazine that you hide from your friends
Once it was Rolling Stone, it was thrill after thrill
Now Modern Maturity means over the hill.

I know they just want as many dues-paying members as they can get their grubby little paws on. And the Baby Boom was still going strong in 1958, so there are a lot of us to hit up for dues. But couldn't they at least wait until I hit 49 1/2? Sheesh.

I'm not ready to grow old. I'm still working on growing UP.

In other news: Morris banquet was a success. Enjoyed a lovely weekend in New Hampshire with friends N&G and J&K. Going to 30th-year HS reunion (speaking of feeling old) next month in N.H. and get to see N&G again.

Life is good.

Pokingbrook's Got a Brand New Bag

2006-10-05T21:03:00.000-07:00

And it's me!

I didn't know until our annual general meeting of the Pokingbrook Morris Dancers last night that I had been nominated for women's bag. It was actually the only contested race in our annual election of officers. It was between me and Marilee, the incumbent.

I WON!

Now, for the uninitiated, the "bag" in morris refers to (a) the person responsible for the equipment (sticks and hankies we use as props in dancing) and (b) the person who handles the money. In Pokingbrook, we have separate equipment bags for the men's and women's sides, and a single money bag.

So basically this new office means I get to schlep sticks and hankies to practices and gigs. Real glamorous -- not.

BUT ... it means a great deal to me that the team trusts me with any kind of responsibility at all, given that during the Toxic Jock years I avoided it at all costs. I showed up and went through the motions, if I showed up at all.

If any Pokingbrookers are reading this, thank you for the vote of confidence. You are the best.

The Anal-Retentive's Apprentice

2006-10-03T20:27:00.000-07:00

So, the trial run of Operation Organize Chez Jake at Fritz and Jen's wedding was marginally successful. The goal was to reduce the stress on Jake, but he didn't seem any less stressed, and I was much MORE stressed. Although he claims it did help. I am no longer upset about the fact that it didn't go as well as I'd envisioned. I'm processing that and using it to learn from for next time.

Step one: Get a heavy-duty music stand to hold what Tom dubbed the "O-C Book," so it can be more easily seen and referred to. Free surfaces are always in short supply at Chez Jake.

Step two: Have people sign up for kitchen duty instead of trying to assign tasks on the fly, book or no book.

Next project is the morris banquet. That looked as if it might fall apart when Jake found out the grange hall where we held it last year had instituted a no-alcohol policy. Morris dancers without ale? The horror! I found this out last night. But by noon today we had arranged another site, for half the rent. Phew! I was starting to think that this "everything I touch turns to shit" thing was going to be a pattern.

I am learning the value of planning and checklists and delegating. Me, who can't find a pair of socks that match half the time. Thanks, NiiceDuude. Your analness is rubbing off on me.

Thud.

2006-10-01T17:10:00.000-07:00

Wedding over. More to come. Later.

Tempest in a (Chinese? Japanese?) teapot

2006-09-22T20:14:00.000-07:00

I don't know whether to laugh or cry about this. I should probably laugh, because I did so much crying over it last night that my glasses are still not sitting right on my face -- thanks to the puffy eyes.

I posted a link previously to Trubble's Catbox, a board for survivors of emotional abuse. I have found great support/validation there in dealing with my lingering JR-related issues. Although I feel a little silly posting about the wounds he caused me when we didn't really make it to the serious relationship stage, when some of these women have been married to and have kids with emotional abusers, they have welcomed me.

I've only been a member for about two months but I find I can offer good counsel to newer members who are trying to figure out if their partner's behavior is normal and if they are just overreacting. The answer usually is: It's not, and you're not. LOSE THIS LOSER.

I also belong to Television Without Pity, where it's fairly common on the forums for us to refer to our spouses/partners as "Mr. (My Screen Name) or "Mrs. (My Screen Name").

Sooo ... a new person (I'll call her Krissy37) posts to the Catbox about her asshole husband. It's a long post that goes into great detail about things he's said and done that anyone with a degree of distance can see are abusive.

She gets lots of "lose this loser" responses, including mine, which I started:

Dear Mr. Krissy37:

The Clue Store is having a sale. I suggest you stop by and pick one up. Heck, get two; they're cheap.

Then I go on to address her directly about how she doesn't deserve this treatment and she should keep posting because she will find support and encouragement here.

Then ... I get a private message from one of the moderators telling me the post was "insulting and uncalled for" and asking me to edit or delete it.

Now, few things upset me more than being blindsided with criticism or reprimand. Here I am going blithely along thinking it's sunny and 72 and someone gets in my shit for doing something that I had NO CLUE was wrong. (Maybe I need to visit the Clue Store?)

I lose it. I cry for HOURS. I delete the post and send a private message to the moderator telling her I did and explaining that I had no idea what I said was insulting; I was only trying to inject a little humor. NiiceDuude can easily snap me out of an upset with a joke. Her response indicates that the post was interpreted that I made the "clue store" comment to the POSTER, not her husband.

I posted an apology on the affected thread, explaining what the post really said -- addressed to MR. Krissy, not Krissy -- and that I was sorry it was misread.

The woman who I have reason to believe filed the complaint responds. She thought I was a foreigner and English was not my first language! She said she deals with Asians a lot in her work and they frequently err and call her Mr.

Those of you who know me well enough to read this blog know that:

1. I am a native English speaker.
2. I minored in English.
3. I taught English for half a year.
4. For most of the past 25 years I have been in journalism, much of that as a copy editor, who CORRECTS OTHER PEOPLE'S ENGLISH FOR A LIVING.
5. My eyes are very large, very blue and very round.

Of course, the woman who complained about my post has no way of knowing any of this, so I don't blame her. I just can't believe I spent an entire evening in tears because someone assumed I am not a native English speaker and therefore thought I was being insulting.

Needless to say, if I am going to use humor in the Catbox, I will be VERY careful about my phrasing in future.

Avast, mateys!

2006-09-18T18:02:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, Sept. 19, is International Talk Like a Pirate Day! You know what to do. If something goes wrong, like your computer crashes or you get cut off in traffic, instead of "Shit!" or "Bite me!" just utter a hearty "Arrrrr!" Or maybe "Shiver me timbers and blow me!" Then celebrate with some Captain Morgan.

It's been a while since I posted, mainly because life continues to be crazy -- good crazy. Morris has started again, we've had sick friends to visit (they are recovering, yay!), weddings to attend, a Last Gasp (great as always), Tugboat Roundup, NiiceDuude's swing and Dixieland band commitments, my Solidarity Singers commitments, and of course, work. Remember that? the thing we get paid for?

Fritz and Jennifer asked me to sing at their wedding, which is the weekend after next. A song of my choice to reflect the role of the gathering of friends in their union. I thought about "All the Good People," but while the overall sentiment is nice, the verses are kind of sexist and from a male perspective. So I've decided to go with "Give Yourself to Love" instead.

Speaking of songs, if you have ever been, or know someone who has been, in a relationship with an asshole, go to Christine Lavin's Website: and download a free copy of "Stop Your Sobbing, He's an Idiot (Happy Dance)." There's a "She's an Idiot" version, too. It definitely reminded me of someone *cough*J.R. Gach*cough*.

Things that make me do the happy dance:

NiiceDuude
Abby, Ed and Rozita
Cruising on Lake George with co-workers last week, which I thought would be dull but was actually fun. Even got to sing!
Greg and Ed getting better
Jake's lentil and spinach (frozen!) soup with SNAUSAGES!
Trubble's Catbox:, a forum for survivors of emotional abuse. Who, me? Yeah, me. Read the J.R. posts.

There's more, but that's a start. Cheers!

Egg, meet face.

2006-08-28T21:18:00.000-07:00

It's times like this that I'm glad I no longer work in hard news.

I'm not the first to post about this and I won't be the last. I am one of many who is disgusted with the media's treatment of the John Mark Karr story.

Even to a layperson relying solely on media accounts, it was obvious this guy didn't kill JonBenet Ramsey. His story had more holes than a wheel of Swiss cheese. For one thing, he said he picked her up at school the day he killed her. Hello! She was killed on CHRISTMAS DAY! For another, he said it was an accident. How the fuck do you GARROTE someone by accident?

This guy was nothing more than a sicko looking for his 15 minutes of fame. And the media gave him a lot more than that. He's sick, but so are they. And sadly, so are we for continuing to be so fascinated by this story.

Shame on you, John Mark Karr. But shame on you, news media. And shame on us.

I just got out of prison!

2006-08-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

No, it's not what you're thinking. The Solidarity Singers performed at Mount McGregor Correctional Facility tonight. It was our second time there, and we had a blast. The inmates really enjoyed us. Insert your own "captive audience" joke here.

Last time we played, it was just us. Tonight there were also poetry readings along with our music. These guys wrote some awesome stuff. Even one of the guards read a poem. I especially liked the older guy who described the evening as "Woodstock meets Comstock."

Note to self: Wear a sports bra to the next prison gig (Washington Correctional, a week from Wednesday). Bra hooks set off metal detectors! So do reading glasses, but bring them anyway. I had a brief moment of panic when I realized I hadn't memorized the lyrics to a verse I solo on, and couldn't read the page! Larry talked me through it.

In other news: I am no longer a displaced person at work. Have been at our company's other building since the fire a few weeks ago at the one where I normally work. Wednesday we got to go "home." There were roses and a welcome-home balloon to greet me.

Last but far from least: Please send prayers if you are so inclined, healing thoughts if you're not the praying kind, in the direction of our friend Greg. He is hospitalized with a nasty case of the flesh-eating bacteria that almost killed him. He is improving (knock wood) but it will be a long recovery and possibly months on IV antibiotics.

Many of you who read this blog know Greg. Those of you who don't, I hope you have the privilege of meeting him someday. He and his wife are two of the finest people I am blessed to have as friends.

Why are you still here, Toxic Jock?

2006-08-16T21:16:00.000-07:00

I am OVER J.R. Gach. I want nothing more to do with this fat bastard who turned my soul inside-out with his lies. Who was full of these brilliant seduction lines that had me contemplating throwing away my life. Who went from treating me like a queen to dissing me in public as a freak and worse. Who left me wondering how feelings as intense as those he expressed could just vanish into thin air -- until I realized that the reason they did that was THEY WEREN'T REAL TO BEGIN WITH.

I am in the anger stage of grieving. Grieving for something I was so sure was real, something that left me honored and flattered and dedicated to pleasing him. I've posted before that being in J.R.'s orbit was like being in a cult. It is so true. But Kool-Aid has no nutritional value.

Why do I still visit radio forums several times a day, looking for validation of my hatred for him? Why am I semi-obsessed with seeing him crash and burn? And he has, sort of; Levine fired his fat ass a few weeks ago and I am still doing a happy dance. If the evil he did to me doesn't come back to bite him in the ass, at least the defection of listeners like me has left him jobless.

It's the dreaded C word -- closure. I still entertain, in the far reaches of my brain, this fantasy that he will wake up, realize the horrendous damage he did to me with his lies and his games and atone, apologize or at least acknowledge. But that's not going to happen. I might as well fantasize about hitting the lottery.

I have found a lot of sites and boards online devoted to narcissistic personality disorder. Junior hasn't been diagnosed with NPD -- instead he is bipolar with borderline personality disorder. But his behavior? Textbook NPD. And if it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck, does insurance commercials like a duck ... well, you know.

These fine women have taught me that it is NOT easy to get over. The NPD's lies disrupt your total perception of reality, and that is not something easily reconstructed. Bottom line: I'll be over it when I'm over it. Apologies to Yogi Berra.

Meanwhile, I'm doing what I can physically and emotionally to re-enter the loop, to reconnect with the REAL people with whom I have REAL connections and not just some illusion of a friendship that could have been and a more-than-friendship that never was.

Yes, I'm rambling. Your point?

Rediscovering my ale love!

2006-08-07T20:31:00.000-07:00

Ale the beverage I never stopped loving. But ales, aka gatherings of morris dance teams, I haven't been crazy about for some time. My last couple of experiences with them haven't been pleasant. Thornden Morris' 25th anniversary ale was too much driving and excessive partying for someone who had driven all that way and just wanted to rest. And the 2003 P'home happened while I was in the acute phase of Toxic Jock Syndrome, and wasn't enjoying much of anything.

But this past weekend at the Dog Days Ale helped me realize that these can be tons of fun. Thoroughly enjoyed all the stands, the food, the setting, the company. Not perfect, but very cool.

JC, who rode with me, probably won't read this, but let the record show she has mad navigation skillz. If not for her, I might still be wandering aimlessly on the back roads of Tompkins County.

BTW, speaking of Toxic Jock, aka J.R. Gach, he lost his job last week. Finally, karma catches up with him. Good riddance, Gach Trash! Don't let the door hit you in your fat ass on the way out.

One reason I'm glad I'm a folkie

2006-07-29T01:35:00.000-07:00

No ingratitude whatsoever intended toward NiiceDuude for this evening's Dixie Chicks concert. I'm glad I went, and it was fun. And it's his $132. But it also reminded me why I much prefer the folk music scene to the mainstream one, especially when it comes to live performances.

1. Volume! I am not as big a Dixie Chicks fan as ND is; he has several of their albums and knows their stuff well. I only know the two or three songs I've caught on the radio or that he's played for me. In a big venue like the Pepsi Arena, with seven backup musicians and the volume cranked up high so the music can be heard over the cheering fans, it's difficult to impossible to understand the words to the songs. It's different if you know the songs, but I spent most of the evening going "Huh?"

2. Over-the-top security. I didn't bring a handbag because of my experience at SPAC (for Aerosmith) a few years ago -- our bags were searched. That didn't happen tonight, but I was dumbfounded to find out that once we were in the arena, we couldn't go outside again. And we arrived an hour early. I'm a smoker, people; at some point I'm going to need to go outside. Then I'm told there is a smoking area but it's not open until the show starts. That turned out to be incorrect (it was open beforehand) and I got to load up on nicotine before the show.

3. Overpriced concessions. Four dollars and 75 cents for a bottle of MICHELOB? You can buy a six-pack for that!

4. Parking fees. Fifteen bucks to use the arena garage, on top of the ticket price? Again, it wasn't my money, but still ...

I've only been to one folk event where I had trouble understanding the words. It was an outdoor concert by the duo Trout Fishing in America, and this was more a function of bad sound mixing than excessive volume.

Security? At all the folk concerts and most of the festivals I've attended, there is no security crew. Folkies don't need to be policed. And frankly, many of them are survivors of the '60s and get a bit twitchy around that sort of thing.

The concessions at larger folk events I've attended are reasonably priced, designed to break even or maybe raise a little extra for the organization. But $4.75 for mediocre beer? Never. And nobody bats an eye if you bring your own refreshments. Try that at the Pepsi or SPAC.

Parking: I have never, ever, ever shelled out a single dime to park at any folk event. The steepest price I've paid is a blister or two if I have to hike from the car.

On the upside, I did enjoy the people-watching, the energy level of the crowd and the delivery of the handful of songs I recognized well enough to know the words to. I would strongly suggest to anyone planning to attend a concert by a band you don't know well, give a listen to their stuff before you go; you'll appreciate it more and won't be left wondering what you just heard.

Houston, we have wheels!

2006-07-27T12:06:00.000-07:00

Let the record show that Stu Maguire of Schuylerville/Greenwich, NY is the awesomest used-car dealer that ever awesomed. He takes personal checks! He does inspections on site! He handles the DMV paperwork! He had me in a new (well, new to me) car within HOURS, not days. Take THAT, Asshole Car Dealer from Stillwater!

I even named the car -- a 1993 Plymouth Sundance -- after him. She's called Stuball, partly because of him and partly because the song "Stewball" came back into my life this week courtesy of NiiceDuude's old Air Force buddy, Ray from Louisiana. Also, she has this weird paint discoloration thing on the hood that looks a little like a stylized painting of a horse, and "Stewball" is a song about a race horse.

Thanks to Stu, to my awesome friends D&S for the loaner cars, to equally awesome friend Jake for rides, to Jesse the Hooker for towing Betty, and to the First National Bank of Mom and the NiiceDuude Federal Credit Union for the financing. And to my employer for the paid downtime from the fire, which will make the whole post-car-deal cash flow situation a little easier.

We're singing at the Bethlehem Neighbors for Peace picnic this weekend at Grafton Lakes State Park (anyone wanna go? E-mail me for details), and this will give me a chance to score some cool bumper stickers for Stuball; they always have a great selection for sale.

Pictures soon. Too dark now to do her justice. Cheers!

Fire in the Hole! And Other Stories

2006-07-21T00:36:00.000-07:00

It is 12:11 a.m. I just got home from work about half an hour ago. Why? Because there was an electrical fire Wednesday night on the 10th floor of the building where I work, and it was closed today. I work on the sixth floor, but the whole building was unusable because of smoke. Arrangements were made to move several departments (including mine) to the company's other offices in Queensbury, but my computer was not set up until about 6 p.m. So I put in a little over four hours and will return early tomorrow morning to finish up the week's work.

This would not be such a huge problem if I weren't already behind, for a variety of reasons:

A couple of weeks ago our British freelancer was mugged and suffered some major injuries, and I had to do his work. I was doing the British product for a while last year until we hired him and it was a major pain. This time around it wasn't. But last week I was told he was recovered and eager to resume working. Then I find out Monday he can't do it after all, so I had to crank out British product on extremely short notice, which put me in a minor behind situation. Then ...

I took a sick day on Tuesday. I was technically not sick, but my car was. The transmission died as I was leaving NiiceDuude's Monday night. He brought me home and I was able to arrange a loaner from friends, but getting that took up a big chunk of Tuesday. Then ...

I took Wednesday morning off (this was prearranged) to accompany NiiceDuude to a medical appointment. Without going into detail, he was having one of those procedures that you can't drive after, because they give you REALLY good drugs! It went beautifully, we ate a huge breakfast afterward (he had to fast beforehand), and I discovered the loaner car (which is old enough to get served in a bar) no longer went into reverse. This I can work around. Then ...

Wednesday night I find out about the fire and spend Thursday waiting around for further instruction. Also shopping for another car and enduring my dealer's invective for wanting to get my money back and work with someone else. He initially refused but eventually relented, but not after throwing some nasty words my way.

Look, dude, it's like this. I work at Stewart's one day a week. It's the only day I have available. My manager is thrilled to have me for that one day a week. But if something were to change, and she wanted to replace me with someone who has better availability, then I would accept that and not take it personally. Nobody's in the wrong; the situation is just no longer satisfactory.

No such luck with Asshole Car Dealer. Who was late getting back into town Wednesday night for our appointment, which meant I would have been (a) looking at replacement cars in the dark, and (b) driving an ancient Rabbit with a shitty gearshift (and no reverse) home in the dark. I did that tonight - not fun. So I canceled. Which makes ME the irresponsible one.

I chose to do business with a guy who runs a one-man shop and operates by appointment. But I made that choice on the assumption that this would be a simple transaction: make deal, get insurance, go to DMV, attach plates, drive away. But because the title on the vehicle he sold me turned out not to be valid, this was anything but simple. His wholesaler spent WEEKS trying to find the guy he got it from so he could get the valid title. Didn't happen. That car was going back to him, drivable or not. And I would miss more work for ANOTHER round of shopping, insurance office run, DMV run, etc., etc. Does this make me a bad person for wanting to work with a dealer who won't put me through all this?

He kept saying, "The title is not the issue!" Hello? I would have had the tranny checked out when it was just a little problem that could have been resolved with an adjustment or two, but HE said, "don't do that until we get this title thing resolved." So if you ask me, the title IS the issue. Duh.

OK, enough rant. I have to get some sleep if I'm going to go back into work in the a.m. And get out in time to go to Ilion and Syracuse with ND for the weekend.

Argh.

She's baack!

2006-07-16T16:15:00.000-07:00

I thought that survey below didn't go up because there was something wrong with the code. But there it is! I think the thing wrong with the code was the part that lets you post only a short version -- this posted the whole thing. So anyway, content:

It has been a crazy summer around here, what with two jobs, three cats, one sweetie, many friends and being busy just about every weekend.

Last weekend in June: Old Songs Festival. Survived. Enjoyed.

First weekend in July: Helped NiiceDuude move. This is the deck in his new backyard, and yes, that's the Hudson. ND is the one in the orange T-shirt with his back to the camera. The others are our friends AA, Jake and FE.

Last weekend: Very cool 25th anniversary campout party for our friends in Vermont.

This weekend: Rozita's first vet visit (since I adopted her) on Saturday. I feared the worst since she loves being petted but hates being "handled." But she basically went limp and did not protest shots, pills or flea drops. General Schuyler's Pantry with the swing band today (Sunday). New musician sat in, a kickass soprano sax player and thoroughly nice guy.

Next weekend: ND's 40th high-school reunion. This will be my first opportunity to meet some of his relatives and most of his high-school friends. I am very psyched, even though people think I'm nuts for wanting to go. They think I'll feel bored or left out, and I probably will at times, but I'm looking forward to meeting these folks I've been hearing him talk about for the past 14 years.

Following weekend: Peace picnic/morris team summer feast at Grafton State Park. Yay to the morris team for allowing me to be two places at once.

First weekend in August: Dog Days Ale (a gathering of morris teams). I'm not all that psyched -- dancing in August? Eww! -- but ND is, so I'm sure I'll end up enjoying it.

Second weekend in August: Cardboard boat races in Schuylerville. Swing band will play. I may open; we'll see. Any of you who have been planning to visit Schuylerville, this is a perfect opportunity (hint, hint, RF).

Third and fourth weekends: Nothing on the calendar yet, but the way things have been going, I'm sure something will probably pop up.

Sometime in September I'll be spending a week in California with my mom. Definitely mixed feelings about this. Will enjoy hanging out with her, I'm sure, and she's putting me up in a hotel as her apartment is small and so is my budget. But I hate hate HATE to fly. If I had three weeks vacation time to blow, I'd take the train.

November will be MY high school reunion -- 30th. I'm looking forward to that. I didn't think my HS even HAD reunions, as it closed/merged with the boys school about 15 years ago. But they do an alumni weekend for alums of both schools. I am totally out of touch with these people and haven't even visited that town in almost 20 years (no reason to since my mom moved to California in the '80s). So it will be a hoot to see them again and show them the weird kid didn't make out half bad.

Now if I can only schedule time to eat, sleep and breathe ... and get caught up on my TV watching!

p.s. No pics of the new car since I may not get to keep her. Title issue. The dealer will probably end up putting me in something else. THEN I'll post a picture.

Farewell, Old Blue

2006-06-15T22:39:00.000-07:00

My '87 Accord has been put out to pasture. The old girl gave me 13 months of mobility, but she had too many issues to justify the time and money it would take to get her through another inspection (frame rust, for starters).

Her replacement is a 1994 Mercury Sable wagon that's also got issues, but they're not dealbreakers. And (sorry, Blue), she's much better looking.

I'm still getting used to driving an automatic again and driving something LARGE. Blue's predecessor was a '98 Escort wagon, but this one makes the Escort look puny. Love the space, though, especially now that it's camping season and almost time to help NiiceDuude move. And loving such little details as a gas gauge that works and a dome light that turns on when you open the door. And a lack of leaky sunroof! I was getting really tired of Blue pissing on me every time it rained.

The Mercury is tan/light brown, so I've been referring to her as Big Brown. But I think her given name will be Betty. Brown Betty/Betty Sable, get it?

Now all I need to do is find some bumper stickers. No NiiceLaadyMobile is complete without amusing and subversive bumper stickers.

Pic of Betty to come tomorrow; too dark tonight.

Abby update

2006-06-14T23:53:00.000-07:00

She came out of hiding and allowed me to snap this picture of her with her deep and not deadly wound:

But she still won't let me get close enough to give her drugs. Hoping her immune system can fight off infection until she does.

Abby's Big Adventure

2006-06-13T18:23:00.000-07:00

I have been a furbaby (tm Bean/RadioFanatic) mama for many, many years, but I can't remember the last time I had to deal with an injured animal. Illnesses and allergies, lots of times, but I've been fortunate that none of my critters has gotten hurt.

Until today, when Abby (my oldest kitty) came home from a night out with a nasty leg wound. Blood everywhere; the house looked like "CSI: Schuylerville." I tried to clean it, but the bleeding wouldn't stop.

So after a brief comedy of errors trying to find a nearby, available vet, I got her in at Battenkill Veterinary. Apparently whatever cut her got a blood vessel, hence the prolific bleeding. They had to keep her for the day as she needed to be anesthetized so the wound could be examined and treated properly.

I brought her home with stitches, antibiotics and an attitude. She hates having her routine disrupted. So she's hiding, otherwise I'd post a more recent picture. This one is about three years old, but she hasn't changed, other than the shaved leg.

Needless to say, she will be an indoor cat for the foreseeable future.

Go see "Cars," and other good stuff

2006-06-11T18:50:00.000-07:00

Last night NiiceDuude and I went to see "Cars." And what a ride it was! If you see only one flick this summer, make it this one. It is sheer delight. ND is a car nut so he appreciated it even more than I did ... but he let me in on a lot of the in-jokes I would have missed. The picture above is a 1951 Hudson Hornet voiced by Paul Newman. One of the in-jokes ND shared was that the Hornets were VERY big in stock-car racing in the early '50s.

The best part is, ND wasn't originally up for seeing it this weekend because he was preoccupied with the apartment hunt. But yesterday morning he found one! Yaaay! It's in Waterford, so it's closer to me. Double yaaay! It's a four-unit building with three other middle-aged divorced guys who share the cost of cable Internet and satellite TV, and there's a game room with pool table and jukebox. Sounds like a frat house for old farts. And I say it's about time he had the frat-house experience.

In case you're wondering why we don't just move in together, he works in Albany and doesn't want to be this far north. And I work in Glens Falls and don't want to be any farther south.

In other news: the first annual Pokingbrook Northern Tour was a semi-success. It rained, but the park in Greenwich (our first stop) has a big gazebo, so we were able to dance there. Our second stop was the Old Saratoga Trading Post in Schuylerville, and the women weren't up for dancing on loose, wet gravel, but the guys were, and they showed the proprietor (a very cool guy named George) what morris dancing is all about. George also gave us a tour of his place, which is part gift shop, part colonial museum, even though he was closed; he opened up for us.

Pub stop at the 29 Roadhouse was OK. Pricey food, limited menu but a kickass beer selection. Spaten Oktoberfest -- woohoo! I am very glad ND was driving.

If all goes well I will be in a new(er) car in the next few days. Cross fingers for me.

I'll show you mine ...

2006-06-04T20:06:00.000-07:00

From Syncretist Fool:

Leave your name and:

1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll challenge you to try something.
3. I'll pick a color that I associate with you.
4. I'll tell you something I like about you.
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something I've always wanted to ask you.
8. If I do this for you, you must post this on yours.

GGG highlights

2006-05-29T19:15:00.000-07:00

If Twink is reading my blog, she may want to skip this post. No sense getting all bummed about missing the good times.

For the uninitiated, GGG is GottaGetGon, the best little folk music festival ever. See today's Times-Union, Gazette or Saratogian for a peek. But the Gazette did get one thing wrong: It's not a bluegrass festival. Yeah, there's bluegrass, but there's also swing, sea chanteys, blues, country, old-time rock 'n' roll and whatever music folks enjoy making for themselves (Jake's definition of folk music).

OK, highlights:

Meeting the wee (8-day-old) Tell. Giving her the blankie I made for her in her parents' wedding colors, and seeing her wrapped in it the next day.

Sunday morning swing jam. Singing Andrews Sisters-style with CC and ML.

Playing with NiiceDuude out behind the shed. I'm talking MUSIC, people; get your minds out of the gutter!

Jake's cooking.

Thoroughly enjoying the beer but not getting effed up or enduring killer hangovers. A minor headache and a touch of dehydration- and heat-induced exhaustion while cleaning up Chez Jake today were the only consequences. Both short-lived. This has not been the case in past years. I must be learning that pacing thing.

Having so much great after-hours music to choose from (especially Sunday) that I was wishing I had two clones. This is not a bad thing.

Cuddling under a rainy roof.

Being Vice Chef in Charge of Omelets when ND had to go play drums for the swing workshop. Let the record show that I now have mad omelet skillz.

Starting and finishing two books, and getting more than halfway through a third, during late-night nobody to socialize with time and early-morning not ready to be sociable time. BTW, I HIGHLY recommend "Sweet Jesus, I Hate Bill O'Reilly."

There are more. And there are pictures. There are also brain cells to be grown back and sleep to be caught up on. Stay tuned. And to all of you who made this weekend one of the best GGGs ever, thanks and hugs.

I'm back! No, really, I'm back.

2006-05-24T00:18:00.000-07:00

Nothing in this post is intended as a slam on anyone. Well, except for J.R. Gach, aka Toxic Jock, aka the Evil One. And me. But definitely not NiiceDuude. I take full responsibility for the heartburn I've suffered lately surrounding our relationship.

Being possessed by the Evil One was like being in a cult. What do people in cults do? They live to please the Master. They cut off their family, friends and outside interests. They give all their money to the cult. Well, I had no money to give -- although I did bust my budget to impress J.R. on his birthday one year -- but I let my finances go down the toilet by neglecting my obligations during that time.

I definitely cut off my loved ones and outside interests, though. I went to festivals, etc., but was merely going through the motions. All I could think of was how much more fun it would be if he were part of it all. I never stopped loving NiiceDuude, and being in awe of the patience he showed me during that horrible 18 months. But the thing that mattered most was trying to reawaken the feelings J.R. had expressed for me, feelings I know now weren't real, but you couldn't convince me of that at the time.

I snapped out of it. But old habits die hard. I had become somewhat physically, and totally emotionally isolated while I was obsessing over J.R., and I continued in that pattern. I was once again enjoying the people and things I'd neglected, but it took longer to get out there and make the connection.

And during the time I was unavailable, ND was forging some very deep connections with people who aren't me. That didn't bother me while I was possessed/obsessed. But once I got over it, it did. People were inviting him, and not me, to things -- a mutual friend's play, a daughter's wedding, a work party. And not only did they not think to ask both of us, neither did he think to include me, assuming that I wouldn't be interested or available.

I felt less like his girlfriend and more like a "friend with benefits," as the young 'uns put it. As in, he has all these people he's close to, but the only difference between them and me is that I'm the one he's sleeping with. And I'm still not sure what hurts more, that our friends started seeing us as individuals instead of as a couple or that he did.

This came to a head over Mother's Day weekend, and I realized that if I want to be front and center in his life again, I have to make him front and center in mine. That means I have to be available. I have urged him to please ask, when he is invited to something I might enjoy, if I can come along. Even if I'm not available because of work or a prior commitment, I want to be asked. I have also made a point of showing up for things and offering my help with projects he takes on (case in point: tonight's folding, spindling and mutilating of the GGG programs).

This is not just about being there for him, although that's most of it. It's also about reminding the people around us that I still exist and want to be part of things again.

I think it's working.

Sorry for the length of this post. It's been simmering a while.

Nose newts

2006-05-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

The big news: My favorite young family has welcomed its first daughter. Can't wait to meet her and become one of her many, many honorary aunties. Of course, the little bugger arrived about three weeks early, which means I have to shift into overdrive to complete her gift. I can do this.

Was at the grocery store today and parked my cart of bagged and paid-for groceries near a rack of videos to go wait in the humongous customer service line to pay my electric bill. I look over, the cart is gone. Minor panic ensues as this cart contains about $75 worth of stuff -- and the receipt is in one of the bags. And I don't have another $75 to replace it all.

Staff begins a search, goes on the PA to ask everyone to check their carts, and a few minutes later it's found in the produce section. Apparently someone realized it wasn't theirs and just left it. Thank goodness! I was afraid someone packed the bags in their car and drove home, and I'd have to camp out at Hannaford for the afternoon waiting for them to realize they got the wrong stuff and come back.

Reminded me of the end of the Dance Flurry, when I parked my backpack and cooler by an outside door to take to my car, and when I turned around they were gone. Someone had brought them into a back room with the sound equipment. Hello? They're sitting by an OUTSIDE DOOR! To go OUTSIDE! Where did you get the idea, anonymous rescuer of random possessions, that they belonged with the sound stuff? Grrrr....

No, I'm really not still upset about the Flurry incident. Just coming down from the adrenaline rush of almost losing $75 worth of groceries. I'll be OK.

And again, welcome vibes and happy dance for the new munchkin!

Never too old to learn

2006-05-14T20:16:00.000-07:00

So today I made the obligatory Happy Mother's Day/Happy Birthday call to my mom (her birthday falls on Mother's Day this year). I say obligatory because we don't have a great relationship. I will spare you the details of said relationship, but let's just say she is a lovely woman who drives me nuts. And I end up feeling guilty about being driven nuts by such a lovely woman who means no harm, although everything she says to me comes off as critical/judgmental. Since she didn't mean it that way, there's something wrong with me for taking it that way.

She was telling me about an article she'd read about a book called "You're Wearing That?" I thought at first it was fashion advice, but it's actually a book on mothers and daughters by Deborah Tannen of "You Just Don't Understand" fame. You can read an excerpt here.

She was amazed to learn from this article that many, many moms and daughters are in this position. Mom keeps her mouth shut because she feels her words and intentions are being misinterpreted. Daughter keeps her mouth shut because she knows criticism is coming. Paraphrasing liberally, her reaction was: "Holy crap! It's NOT just us!"

That birthday she's having today? Is her 85th. Like I said, never too old to learn.

Needless to say, we are both going to read this book.

She doesn't have a computer (maybe when I visit this fall I'll teach her how to use one), so she won't read this, but I'll say it anyway: Mom, you rock.

Saladarity, or, Get Your Own March

2006-05-01T19:16:00.000-07:00

Been thinking about the protests of recent days -- Saturday's megamarch for peace, justice and democracy in NYC (see photo) and today's demonstrations around the country in support of immigrant workers, many of whom skipped work today to make a point about the critical role they play in our economy.

Both events attracted a lot of ridicule from conservative pundits and even from some on the left, including my friend Twinkletoze, who was in NYC Saturday with the Friends Committee on National Legislation, for including groups that are not really related to the issue they are trying to call attention to. Saturday's event apparently began as a protest against the war in Iraq and the possibility of going after Iran, but morphed into a generic antiwar + "justice for all" demonstration when groups such as NOW, gay-rights organizations, pro-choicers, environmental groups and the like got involved.

I am a leftie who considers herself more sympathizer than activist. I have participated in demonstrations as a member of the Solidarity Singers but have yet to attend such an event on my own. I realize that we lefties often get involved in protests for causes other than our personal pet causes as a show of solidarity for those afflicted.

But I wonder if that's such a good idea. It tends to dilute the message and, to the right, makes every such event easy to dismiss as another "left-wing wacko" circus. In other words, what started out as a gesture of solidarity just looks like a "leftie cause salad."

My advice to those who wish to show support for a cause other than their specific raison d'etre: Unless it is truly an across-the-board, multi-issue protest such as "Dump Bush," leave your own signs at home and rally behind the issue at hand. If it's an antiwar protest, don't carry signs in support of women's rights or alternative energy, carry antiwar signs. It will boost the credibility of the message du jour ("Hey, look at all those people against the war!" instead of "Hey, look at all those wackos with all their little issues!") and give your women's rights or environmental rallies, when you hold them, more clout as well.

The right does this. You don't see "support the troops" signs at anti-abortion demonstrations, or "save the unborn" signs at "support the troops" rallies. And guess whom the politicians are listening to.

Just something to think about. I know my activist friends read this and I would appreciate feedback.

And happy May Day!

Welcome home, Speshul Ed!

2006-04-24T20:00:00.000-07:00

I heard someone meowing in the yard last night, and there were a couple of the neighborhood cats conversing with Ed, who was under the neighbor's truck! I grabbed him, brought him inside and gave him and his sisters people tuna to celebrate.

It had been eight days since he escaped and I was on the verge of giving up. Thanks, Guardian Angel Mindy, for bringing him home.

What, NEFFA?

2006-04-24T19:40:00.000-07:00

Re NEFFA (New England Folk Festival):

The Good:

1. Dancing in the rain and the threat thereof. Bampton Trunkles = Wet Baldrick Contest.
2. Watching other teams, including NiiceDuudette I's team and its rapper debut.
3. Helen Schneyer tribute.
4. Jammers by the courtyard window committing random acts of familiar folk (e.g. Dylan and Stephen Foster) for practically the whole weekend.
5. GREAT BIG SEA! Not part of NEFFA but part of the weekend as we went to their concert Friday night in Northampton, MA before proceeding to NEFFA. For the uninitiated, this is a band from Newfoundland that takes traditional songs and rocks them out. If you get a chance to see them live, DO!
6. SPEEN! (tm Twinkletoze, aka Niiceduudette II).
7. Got much done on a certain baby gift.

The Bad:

1. Fucking Massachusetts divided highways in which EVERYTHING you need to get to is on the other side and getting over there is a massive fustercluck.
2. Mass. blue laws which restrict beer sales to liquor stores. Very much a pain for those of us accustomed to picking up brewskis at supermarkets, gas stations, drug stores, etc. at all hours.
3. Parking at NEFFA, which makes parking at the Dance Flurry look like a walk in the park.
4. Twink left a bag behind containing Very Important Stuff -- all replaceable, but what a pain.

The Ugly:

My whites after dancing in the rain.

On your Mark...

2006-04-20T00:29:00.000-07:00

As a public service for those of you who don't read Twinkletoze's blog, allow me to introduce you to someone to whom she turned me on: San Francisco Chronicle columnist Mark Morford.

This guy is like Dave Barry if Dave took a shot of serious serum and started writing about Vital Social Issues 'n' Stuff (tm Kelly Bundy). He's clever and cheeky and often hysterical but writes about things of more substance than exploding cows and boogers -- not that there's anything wrong with exploding cows and boogers.

Two of my personal favorites are his most recent one about Bush and one from earlier this month about the Canadian seal hunt. A quote from the latter:

Let us all agree right now: Baby harp seals -- those doe-eyed sausagelike bundles of puffy white blubber -- are just phenomenally, face-meltingly cute. So adorable and so helpless and so sweet-looking it's like God took Bambi and sawed off all his legs and put him in a white fluffy parka and crossbred him with a puppy and a cherub and a Marshmallow Peep and tossed him out onto the Arctic ice to pose for Polar Baby Gap. I mean, *cute.*

Seriously, check this dude out.

Good news, bad news, TOTALLY AWESOME NEWS!!!!

2006-04-18T19:05:00.000-07:00

The bad news first: My Eddie escaped Saturday and I have not seen him since. It's his first escape since we moved into the village, and I can't imagine he'd go far. Last time he escaped, he wasn't gone long, but there is a lot more to explore here. I'm not giving up hope; I've asked his guardian angel kitties, Mindy and Pumpernickel, to look out for him and guide him home. They haven't failed me yet.

The good news: The company where I've been working as a temp for the past 18 months (and was a regular employee from 1995-2001) has finally offered me a permanent position. With bennies, paid sick and vacation time, opportunities for raises and all that good stuff.

Speaking of raises, THAT is the awesome news. My change in status comes with an ENORMOUS pay increase! I won't divulge the amount here, but let's just say it is a number well into the four figures.

Allow me to do what I couldn't do at work because it would be unprofessional:

WOO-FUCKING-HOO! MO' MONEY! MO' MONEY! MO' MONEY!

OK, I'm over it (grin).

All Hail Jake, the Great White Hunter!

2006-04-17T20:45:00.000-07:00

OK, I decided it's kind of silly to keep calling him by his initials here, since he uses his real first name in his own blog, which I have a link to.

Anyway, most of you know that I am afraid of spiders. I can deal with the little ones -- I just squish them -- and even the big ones are cool if they are not (a) on my person or (b) in my house. But if I find one larger than an inch in diameter in either of the above locations, I freak out.

So ... last night I reach into a dresser drawer for a sweatshirt, and something CRAWLS on me. I grab the shirt and run screaming from the room. It's dark so I don't actually see what it is until the next morning, when I find the VERY LARGE SPIDER CORPSE on the floor by the dresser. OK, so she's dead. But what if she left her FAMILY in there? Don't spiders die after they lay mass quantities of eggs?

NiiceDuude is out of state. I am afraid to open my freakin' dresser. In case you're wondering, I did manage to open one drawer far enough to get underwear; the rest of my clothes for the day were in the closet.

So even though he spent many hours here yesterday feeding me a delicious Easter dinner, I summon Jake back here tonight. We hit a couple of plastic bags with Raid, stuff all the clothes from the dresser into them for laundering later, take the drawers outside, spray the bejabbers out of them, do same with the dresser itself. By the way, we did not find any more spiders or egg sacs, but I did not want to be alone if there had been any to find.

Yes, I am a big wuss. But a big wuss with friends who are willing to indulge my wussiness.

And for anyone comparing creepy-crawly bug posts, I am not trying to compete with Twinkletoze, whose bug story is a LOT ickier. Just giving GWH Jake his due.

On a roll

2006-04-15T12:48:00.000-07:00

For some reason I have been feeling unusually optimistic and energetic the past week or so. It may be the beautiful weather, may be my raging premenopausal hormones -- which can just as easily set me off on a crying jag -- but I'm not going to analyze it too much, just run with it.

Half past noon and I've already:

Taken out trash.
Cleaned cat boxes.
Done dishes.
Hooked up new VCR and put out Freecycle post on old one.
Done duct-tape repair job on computer chair.
Collected up empties to return to beverage store.
Secured window screens (an urgent job since Eddie knocked one out and escaped. I'm not too worried; he is an indoor kitty but last time he escaped he didn't stray far).

Still to be done:
Pack away winter clothes.
Vacuum.
Wash kitchen and bathroom floors.
Clean bathroom fixtures.
Return empties, buy fullies (maybe Fuller's? JB coming for Easter!).
Put away dishes.
Give cats flea drops (dreading this, as Rozita HATES having foreign substances applied. Giving her hairball ointment is hella traumatizing).
Shower, do assorted personal-care things I never get to during the week (leg shaving, etc.)
Clean dead leaves out of flower bed.

But now I'm on a lunch break. Yay lunch breaks!

Be he bronze or be he pewter

2006-04-13T21:58:00.000-07:00

So for work today, I was doing some research into Buddhism. Had to do with a blurb I was writing about a bad Steven Seagal movie. He is a student of Buddhism, and I wanted to say something about how inflicting bad movies on us was bad for his karma or blocking his path to nirvana, or some such snark.

I ended up not making the joke, but ended up learning a lot about Buddhism and wanting to learn more. I've told people that I have no interest in organized religion but if I had to join one, I would probably become a Unitarian, a Quaker or maybe a Wiccan. Now I'll add Buddhist to that list.

From an excellent Web site:

The Four Noble Truths

The first sermon that the Buddha preached after his enlightenment was about the four noble truths. The first noble truth is that life is frustrating and painful. In fact, if we are honest with ourselves, there are times when it is downright miserable. Things may be fine with us, at the moment, but, if we look around, we see other people in the most appalling condition, children starving, terrorism, hatred, wars, intolerance, people being tortured and we get a sort of queasy feeling whenever we think about the world situation in even the most casual way. We, ourselves, will some day grow old, get sick and eventually die. No matter how we try to avoid it, some day we are going to die. Even though we try to avoid thinking about it, there are constant reminders that it is true.

The second noble truth is that suffering has a cause. We suffer because we are constantly struggling to survive. We are constantly trying to prove our existence. We may be extremely humble and self-deprecating, but even that is an attempt to define ourselves. We are defined by our humility. The harder we struggle to establish ourselves and our relationships, the more painful our experience becomes.

The third noble truth is that the cause of suffering can be ended. Our struggle to survive, our effort to prove ourselves and solidify our relationships is unnecessary. We, and the world, can get along quite comfortably without all our unnecessary posturing. We could just be a simple, direct and straight-forward person. We could form a simple relationship with our world, our coffee, spouse and friend. We do this by abandoning our expectations about how we think things should be.

This is the fourth noble truth: the way, or path to end the cause of suffering. The central theme of this way is meditation. Meditation, here, means the practice of mindfulness/awareness, shamata/vipashyana in Sanskrit. We practice being mindful of all the things that we use to torture ourselves with. We become mindful by abandoning our expectations about the way we think things should be and, out of our mindfulness, we begin to develop awareness about the way things really are. We begin to develop the insight that things are really quite simple, that we can handle ourselves, and our relationships, very well as soon as we stop being so manipulative and complex.

This sparked two thoughts in my brain:

Now I understand what Digigal meant when she said I should take a Zen approach to my lingering anger and bitterness toward JR. I haven't studied enough to know the particulars of Zen Buddhism vs. any other variation, but what she said was very much in keeping with what I have learned so far.

NiiceDuude, who claims not to believe in anything and considers all religions bullshit, is actually a Buddhist at heart. Who might be shocked to hear this.

Something else I learned: Despite the alternative "Old Time Religion" verse, Buddha is not considered a god. When people bow before his image, they are not worshiping him, but thanking him for his wisdom. I like this.

No, I'm not planning to convert, but these teachings make sense to me.

Things that rock

2006-04-09T15:15:00.000-07:00

NiiceDuude.

McEwan's Scotch Ale, which NiiceDuude brought over last night.

Weird lady in Cumberland Farms this morning who called me Agnes. At least she didn't call me Shirley. ;-)

Time Warner Cable, which had a tech here within an hour this morning to check out my spotty Internet connection.

"Brokeback Mountain." I had to watch it twice to get the full impact, as when I watched it Friday I was tired and not tracking well. Watched it again Saturday and ... Ang Lee was robbed at the Oscars!

George Dubya owes me 97 bucks. George P. owes me almost $400. Woohoo! This is the first time in years that I haven't owed, so I expected I'd owe a couple of hundred again this year. Had I known I had refunds coming I'd have filed in January and probably have the $$$ by now. Oh well....

Things that don't rock but it's all good:

I need a new VCR. Turns out the problem I was having with the remote isn't in the remote (I bought a universal and that didn't work either) but with the remote sensor in the unit itself. I'll be going shopping on Tuesday, after I get paid.

"Good Night, and Good Luck." Of all the movies in the last Oscar race, this was the one NiiceDuude really wanted to see. We were so bored we turned it off about halfway through and watched something that makes a political statement but is actually entertaining: "South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut." Yes, NiiceDuude is no longer a "South Park" virgin. Which actually belongs under "things that rock."

And to all a good weekend!

Crappy birthday, J.R. Gach!

2006-04-02T19:43:00.000-07:00

He's 54 today! That would be fifty-four (54). Did I mention he's 54? Fat Bastard is vain about his age, so I feel compelled to spread the word. I'm referring to the fat bastard who is 54 today.

J.R. Gach is one of a handful of people I do not afford the luxury of pseudonyms on my blog, because he sucks.

Another whom I will name directly, but NOT because she sucks, is Paddy Kilrain.

Girlfriend is an awesome young singer-songwriter who was injured in a hit-and-run with a drunken driver on Friday night. Please send her prayers, or if you are not the praying kind, good thoughts. She will be OK, thank Deity.

I feel good today despite having just come from a memorial. The deceased is the mother of a friend. I never met her. I am not especially tight with the daughter, although I like her. NiiceDuude and I sat outside with friends, traded bullshit, had fun. I felt like the old, pre-J.R. me at last. Spring weather may have had something to do with this.

Last night we parked cars for a Gordon Bok concert. Gordon is audio Prozac, although he forgot a LOT of words. OldTimer's disease? I certainly hope not. I have moments like that too, and I don't think I have the big A.

May the road rise to meet you ...

What kind of beer am I?

2006-04-01T12:36:00.001-08:00

Sounds like a song, doesn't it? I was thinking I'd be Guinness; maybe I should have answered "Dublin" to the "which city would you most enjoy a pub crawl in?" question. But it's all good; I love Sammy!

You Are Samuel Adams

You're fairly easy to please when it comes to beer - as long as it's not too cheap.
You tend to change favorite beers frequently, and you're the type most likely to take a "beers of the world" tour.
When you get drunk, you're fearless. You lose all your inhibitions.
You're just as likely to party with a group of strangers as you are to wake up in a very foreign place.

What's Your Beer Personality?

Survey from Mrs. Pi

2006-03-16T22:07:00.000-08:00

A - Available: no!
A - Age: 47
A - Annoyance: liars and users

B - Best Friend: NiiceDuude is my bestest overall. JB is my bestest friend I'm not sleeping with.
B - Bar: Troy brewpub, Davidson Bros., Kielty's.
B - Birthday: Dec. 11

C - Crush: NiiceDuude, of course, but I admit to a girlcrush on Rozita I.
C - Car: Honda Accord RB (rustbucket)
C - Cats: Abracadabra, Special Ed and Rozita II.

D - Dead Pets Name: Shaka, Mona, Pumpernickel.
D - Dads Name: Wayne
D - Dog: Shaka and Mona (R.I.P. both)

E- Easiest person to talk to: Depends on subject.
E- Eggs: Omelets by NiiceDuude.
E- Email: One address at home, one at work, one Yahoo account I never check

F - Favorite color: Dusty rose
F - Food: Anything with cheese
F - Foreign Slang: Lots of Yiddish/Hebrew (verklempt, meshuggah), some Spanish, a little French (je ne sais quoi, mon cher) and Italian (capische?)

G - Gummy Bears or Worms: Neither.
G - God: I believe in Him/Her/It but have no use for His/Her/Its fan clubs
G - Good Time: friends, music

H - Hair Color: brown
H - Height: 5' 3"
H - Happy: When I'm singing

I - Ice Cream: Stewart's Birthday Cake
I - Instrument: guitar and a little pennywhistle
I - Idol: my sister

J - Jewelery: earrings, necklaces when I think of it, watch
J - Job: telling people how to waste their time (i.e. writing about TV)
J - Joke: anything funny but partial to wordplay

K - Kids: none. I like OP's (other people's)
K - Karate: would like to learn
K - Kung fu: was a great TV show

L - Longest Car Ride: Virginia Beach
L - Longest relationship: current one (going on 14 years)
L - Last Kiss: yesterday

M - Milk Flavor: don't drink it
M - Mothers Name: Phyllis
M - Movie Last Watched: some cheesy Christmas TV movie
.
N - Number of Siblings: 3 (including one deceased)
N - Northern or Southern: northern
N - Name: Bev

O - ONE WISH: One? You gotta be kidding.
O - One Phobia: spiders
O - Otter Pop: WTF?

P - Parents, are they married or divorced: Mom's a widow
P - Part of your appearence you like best: my eyes
P - Part of your Personality you like best: sense of humor.

Q - Quote: "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world" (Tolkien)
Q- Question for the next person: What makes you happiest?
Q - Quick or Slow?: Quick

R - Reason to smile: Singing.
R - Reality TV Show: American Idol
R - Right or Left: Handedness: Right. Politics: Left.

S - Song Last Heard: Tickle Cove Pond by Great Big Sea
S - Season: spring
S - Sex: Yes

T - Time you woke: 2:30 a.m. but hit the snooze button multiple times
T - Time Now: 10:30 pm
T - Time for bed: when I can no longer stay horizontal

U - Unknown Fact about me: My junior high crush was the Professor on Gilligan's Island
U - Unicorns?: maybe
U - you are: hard to get to know but worth it

V - Vegetable you hate: none
V - Vegetable you love: all
V - View on Politics: left of center

W- Worst Habits: Beer and cigarettes
W- Where are you going to travel next?: Massachusetts
W-Your weight: none of your business

X - X-Rays: chest, about 10 years ago
X - X-Rated Porn: rather do than watch, thanks
X - X-tra special someone: NiiceDuude

Y - Year you were born: 1958
Y - Year it is now: 2006
Y - Yellow: had an SUV that color

Z - Zoo Animal: tiger
Z - Zodiac: Sagittarius
Z - Zoolander: never saw it

The Man from March Ninth

2006-03-09T08:52:00.000-08:00

I always go to Albany via Western Avenue. 787 and Central Avenue, at least east of Wolf Road, confuse me. Every place I need to get to downtown I can get to from Western Avenue.

This means I always pass McKown Road. And when I do, I blow a kiss. Not that I know anyone who lives there, but in my heart it will always be the home of the Man From March Ninth.

He is not real. He never was. He is a character portrayed by a player. But it took me many March Ninthes -- and all the days in between -- to understand that. I believed in the Man From March Ninth as fervently as I once believed that Santa Claus brought me toys, the Tooth Fairy left dimes under my pillow, and God would send me to hell for swearing or impure thoughts.

Also to be found at 57 McKown road is the Woman from March Eighth -- the trusting soul I was before I believed the lies of the Man From March Ninth. She is still alive, but these days comes out only occasionally -- when the music works its magic and she remembers how fortunate she is to be surrounded by people who don't play games, use one another and tell lies to get what they want. This is a beautiful thing, but also a double-edged sword, because being surrounded by such people left her unprepared for the Man From March Ninth.

I could go on, but most of you know the story and I don't feel like rehashing it. Besides, songwriter Tim Hardin summed it all up beautifully. You may not have heard of Tim Hardin but may know the song from the singing of Rod Stewart, the Carpenters, or a certain gray-haired, guitar-strumming, non-T-shirt wearing lawyer with the initials HJ.

If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe

If I gave you time to change my mind
I'd find a way to leave the past behind
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe

Someone like you makes it hard to live
Without somebody else
Someone like you makes it easy to give
Never thinking of myself

If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe
Still I look to find a reason to believe
Still I look to find a reason to believe

Enneagram test

2006-03-05T16:56:00.000-08:00

This one came from MMB and is spot-on. Go do yours!

the Romantic
Test finished!

you chose BY - your Enneagram type is FOUR.

"I am unique"

Romantics have sensitive feelings and are warm and perceptive.

How to Get Along with Me

Give me plenty of compliments. They mean a lot to me.

Be a supportive friend or partner. Help me to learn to love and value
myself.

Respect me for my special gifts of intuition and vision.

Though I don't always want to be cheered up when I'm feeling melancholy,
I sometimes like to have someone lighten me up a little.

Don't tell me I'm too sensitive or that I'm overreacting!

What I Like About Being a Four

my ability to find meaning in life and to experience feeling at a deep
level

my ability to establish warm connections with people

admiring what is noble, truthful, and beautiful in life

my creativity, intuition, and sense of humor

being unique and being seen as unique by others

having aesthetic sensibilities

being able to easily pick up the feelings of people around me

What's Hard About Being a Four

experiencing dark moods of emptiness and despair

feelings of self-hatred and shame; believing I don't deserve to be loved

feeling guilty when I disappoint people

feeling hurt or attacked when someone misundertands me

expecting too much from myself and life

fearing being abandoned

obsessing over resentments

longing for what I don't have

Fours as Children Often

have active imaginations: play creatively alone or organize playmates in
original game
s

are very sensitive

feel that they don't fit in

believe they are missing something that other people have

attach themselves to idealized teachers, heroes, artists, etc.

become antiauthoritarian or rebellious when criticized or not understood

feel lonely or abandoned (perhaps as a result of a death or their parents'
divorce)

Fours as Parents

help their children become who they really are

support their children's creativity and originality

are good at helping their children get in touch with their feelings

are sometimes overly critical or overly protective

are usually very good with children if not too self-absorbed

Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele

The Enneagram Made Easy

Discover the 9 Types of People

HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, 161 pages

You liked the test? so please RATE it :-)

You are not completely happy with the result?!

You chose BY

Would you rather have chosen:

AY (EIGHT)

CY (SIX)

BX (NINE)

BZ (FIVE)

My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 31% on ABC
You scored higher than 62% on XYZ

Link: The Quick and Painless ENNEAGRAM Test written by felk on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

To see ourselves as others see us ....

2006-02-17T00:21:00.000-08:00

Go here, do me and set up your own! Very cool! Thanks again for a great idea, SyncretistFool!

Lies, damned lies and non-lies - the sequel

2006-02-10T14:39:00.000-08:00

To the two who accepted the challenge: Nice work! Especially RadioFanatic, whom I've not known that long and has never met me in person.

1. My mom used to manage a thrift shop. - TRUE.
2. My favorite color is blue. - FALSE. Dusty rose.
3. I sang Vivaldi in my senior voice recital in college. - TRUE. "Laudamus Te" from Vivaldi's "Gloria," a duet (my voice teacher sang the other part).
4. I had an Orphan Annie perm in the '80s. - TRUE. Scary, I know.
5. I took piano lessons for seven years. - FALSE. Only one year, then we moved and no longer had room for the piano.
6. I was a contestant in my state's Junior Miss pageant. - TRUE.
7. My father's name was Edward. - FALSE. His name was Wayne, but his middle name was Edward, so it was sort of a trick question.
8. I've been to Italy. - TRUE. You both missed this one! I spent 10 days there visiting a friend from high school before starting my college foreign study semester in Spain.
9. I have eight grandnieces and grandnephews. - TRUE.
10. I love rare roast beef. - FALSE. Syncretist Fool, ask your dad! It's the only thing he ever cooked for me that I didn't like.

Thanks for playing!

Heeeere, Old Blue ...

2006-02-07T19:52:00.000-08:00

... You're a good car, you!

Old Blue is the NiiceLaadyMobile, a Honda Accord RB (Rust Bucket) that is old enough to vote in the United States and drink in Canada. I bought her last spring and with the exception of one inexpensive exhaust repair, she has been trouble-free. Yeah, she's got issues -- leaky sunroof, nonfuctional gas gauge, dome light and trunk latch -- but she gets me from Point A to Point B.

Until a few days ago.

She started losing acceleration at random moments, which I thought might be the clutch slipping (been there, done that with a previous vehicle). It got worse. We limped and sputtered all the way to work on Monday and I brought her to the Firestone shop on Route 9 in Queensbury. No pseudonyms here to protect the innocent; this is a shop that you should avoid like the plague, especially if you are female.

The diagnosis: Needs new cap, rotor and wires. Now I'd had this done on another vehicle in the past, many times. It cost about $150. They want $330.

I tell NiiceDuude this and he asks, "Has this guy ever been arrested for rape?" Consensus is that this is one of those garages that can smell a clueless female coming a mile away. ND says we're talking about $40 worth of parts and a 15-minute job, which he offers to do.

ND buys the parts, can't get the cap off but replaces the wires. I take it around the block and it seems OK, but a spin around the block isn't enough to reveal if there's still a problem. Which there was. We sputtered and limped back to Glens Falls again today, and I decided to have ND's mechanic (who is honest to a fault and besides, if he tried the take-advantage-of-clueless-female thing, I could sic ND on him) check it out.

Ron (RON'S SERVICE CENTER, ALTAMONT, NY -- GREAT GUY, TELL THEM I SENT YOU) replaces the cap and rotor -- at no charge, yaay! -- but the car STILL runs like crap. His judgment: Nothing he can diagnose quickly because it's so old, but probably something that will cost more to fix than I paid for the car. OK, so Old Blue has had it. But for what I paid, I got my money's worth. Eight months of trouble-free transportation.

I limp and sputter to Stewart's and call ND, then call DC, who has spare cars, to see if I can borrow one of his while I save up for another.
He says yes but it's in the shop (his shop) but he can have it ready in a couple of days. Cool. I can bum rides to work in the meantime if absolutely necessary.

Then I fill the tank, which had been quite low on gas for the past few days. I'm the type who empties the tank and fills up again when the "low fuel" light comes on. I also add a bottle of drygas and fuel injector cleaner.

And I drive to Malta. And Old Blue runs as smooth as a baby's butt! No hesitation, no deceleration, no sputtering. I do my errand in Malta and drive to Schuylerville. Again, no problems.

So either there is a God, or there was crap in the bottom of the tank that clogged the gas line and caused the problem (or aggravated the one caused by the worn cap, rotor and wires). Being an atheist, NiiceDuude goes for the latter theory. Me, I could go either way. All I know is, problem solved for now at least. But I will be saving for a slightly newer NiiceLaadyMobile, because nobody, not even a Honda, lives forever.

Lies, damned lies and non-lies

2006-02-07T19:47:00.000-08:00

Found this idea on SyncretistFool's blog and liked it. So I stole it; not the first time she posted a cool idea that I stole. Feel free to steal it for your blog if you have one.

Four of the following statements about me are lies. Which ones?

1. My mom used to manage a thrift shop.

2. My favorite color is blue.

3. I sang Vivaldi in my senior voice recital in college.

4. I had an Orphan Annie perm in the '80s.

5. I took piano lessons for seven years.

6. I was a contestant in my state's Junior Miss pageant.

7. My father's name was Edward.

8. I've been to Italy.

9. I have eight grandnieces and grandnephews.

10. I love rare roast beef.

NiiceLaady's nice weekend

2006-02-05T17:10:00.001-08:00

Sunday evenings can be a downer, since I have to get up early for work in the morning. I like my job, but the getting up part is a bitch!

But I am a happy NiiceLaady this Sunday evening. Yesterday NiiceDuude came up with his guitar and we played music together -- something we haven't done in a long time outside of festivals and such. We used to do gigs pretty regularly but that fell off because of scheduling issues and the status of our duo, Fixation, as the most passive act in folk music. We never pursued gigs, just waited for someone to say, "Hey, there's a new coffeehouse/benefit concert/whatever that needs performers. Wanna play?" We just spent a couple of hours going through some of our old stuff.

Then dinner (can't remember the last time I cooked chicken parmesan!) and some DVDs, then bed, and today the swing band played at General Schuyler's Pantry, as it does every first and third Sunday. NiiceDuude is the drummer, and I sit in and sing along.

Just a nice, pleasant, nonstressful weekend in the company of folks I love, including the one I love to bits. I am still perpetually broke, my car is still having issues, Dubya is still president, but for this moment (furiously knocking on every wooden surface within reach), life is good.

The truth is out there ....

2006-02-04T18:03:00.000-08:00

OK, this is a very weird story, and I am going to be deliberately vague here to protect all concerned.

A dear friend of mine, whom I'll call Madame X, claims that two other friends of mine -- and hers -- whom I'll call Monsieur and Madame Y, are going to great lengths to get some incriminating information out of her. Without giving away anything, I'll just say it concerns allegations that she is "playing the system." She says their efforts to get her to incriminate herself occurred at a gathering we all attended and there were many witnesses. I was not one of them, and neither was NiiceDuude. We saw and heard nothing of what she describes.

Madame X believes the Ys were acting at the provocation of another friend of theirs (Madame Z) who reportedly dislikes her and has been known to spread lies about people. I don't know this woman -- met her a couple of times in the past but wouldn't know her today if I fell over her -- so I can't vouch for that.

I've known the Ys for many years, but we're not buddies. They are part of our circle, I've been to their house, Madame Y is in a band with NiiceDuude. But I'm not tight with them; they are friends with a small F.
So maybe they are capable of the kind of behavior Madame X says they engaged in, but I find it hard to believe that ANYONE in our circle would pull something like that. Why would they even care whether Madame X is playing the system, much less take such drastic measures to find out? These are not Rush Limbaugh Republicans who get all righteously indignant about such things; they are lefties like me. For the record, Madame X is NOT playing the system, and they did not get anything to the contrary out of her.

Madame X is a capital F friend, and she has her quirks and rubs some people the wrong way, but I have no reason to believe she is delusional. NiiceDuude thinks she is imagining the whole thing. I'm not sure what or whom to believe.

The only possibility that comes to mind is that the Ys are doing this for Madame Z because she is terminally ill; nobody wants to refuse the wishes of a dying friend. But you'd think a woman on her deathbed would have bigger concerns than trying to "get" someone she dislikes. Just sayin'.

I just hope the truth comes out eventually, because this is putting those of us who like both Madame X and the Ys in a very weird position.

R.I.P. Land of Confusion

2006-01-23T20:00:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite online hangouts is no more. It got hijacked by a troll, and the founder/administrator, an awesome guy known as EasyEd, is very busy and not around enough to deal with such unpleasantness. He also threatened some of the members privately, including Ed. So we suggested Ed shut it down. As of today, it's gone.

This was a board that he started in the fall of 2004 for fans of J.R., aka Toxic Jock, after some similar incidents got other boards shut down. It wasn't entirely devoted to J.R. (there was only one J.R. forum), but we fans were the core group and became good cyberfriends -- in some cases, flesh and blood friends as well. And some of us stopped being J.R. fans but still enjoyed hanging out online with the people we met there.

I'll leave my link to it up for a few days so you can see the kind of idiot we were dealing with. All that's left are his threats to Ed, and Ed's reply. Fuckwad.

The good news is: I started a board to replace Land of Confusion, and after one week, we already have eight members, including our Ed. I'm keeping it on the DL so King Troll and other undesirables don't get wind of it, so I won't be linking to it from here. But if you want to check it out, get hold of me by e-mail, YIM or PM at Capital Gold, and I'll give you the URL. It's invitation only, but all you need to score an invitation is to be (a) interested and (b) not an asshole.

I hate being sick

2006-01-21T17:40:00.000-08:00

I just get over a cold and now my tummy is turning on me -- literally. I puked this morning. I NEVER puke. I'm like Jerry Seinfeld, have gone years without it happening, even when I've been blind drunk.

Drinking lots of mint tea and keeping it down now, but I am exhausted. And missing an a cappella sing, dammit! This sucks. But there will be another in a few weeks. And this will pass, probably by tomorrow. It better!

Meanwhile, it's tea and the Lifetime Movie Network, or maybe the Pi-Hole. Zzzzz.....

I am a bug-eyed freak!

2006-01-09T19:33:00.000-08:00

And proud of it, goddammit!

I am DONE with Toxic Jock -- who no longer deserves the protection of a pseudonym here. He is J.R. Gach of 93.7/94.5. I'll continue to protect the identity of his girlfriend, Marcia!Marcia!Marcia!

This man did enormous damage to me a couple of years ago with his line of bullshit. I've shared the story here and with many of you personally, so I'm not going to repeat it. But even after that, I remained one of his most loyal fans. Even when his shtick got old and dull -- talking about nothing but himself, his relationship with Marcia and all the money he makes and stuff he buys -- I kept listening. Even when he showed blatant disrespect for his fans by "disappearing" over the holidays -- had himself totally expunged from the station, the Web site, everything, only to spring his new time slot on us last week -- I kept listening.

Then June C. and I both posted in the Land of Confusion about how we were tired of hearing him talk about Marcia all the time. Long story short, we each got hate mail, me from her and June from him. According to them, we are pathetic no-life freaks and worse (according to her, I'm also borderline psychotic).

I never had a problem with being called one of the "freaks" (aka hardcore fans) on the air. OK, it stung a little back in the day when I was desperately trying to reforge a friendship with him, but that was a long time ago.

But dissing us on the air is no longer just harmless "shtick" when he's backing it up with e-mail. I tuned in briefly out of curiosity this morning and heard several references to "Saint Marcia" (which I'd called her in my post) and "bug-eyed freaks," which I know was aimed squarely at me. You'll understand if you've seen my very large eyes -- which, just for the record, he once called "magnificent."

Two years ago, I'd have been devastated. Now I'm laughing my ass off. For a couple of no-life pathetic losers who don't matter, we have inspired quite the reaction.

June and I aren't the only ones who are tired of J.R. He can call us names all he wants -- we aren't listening -- but he's in trouble if he doesn't face up to the fact that he's losing his fan base. Oh, wait, J.R. face reality? What am I thinking?

A Tale of Two Stinkin' Badges

2006-01-05T20:16:00.000-08:00

Sometime during First Night I lost my work ID card -- a combination photo ID and swipe card to get into the building after hours and access security-protected entrances. I thought it might have fallen out of my coat pocket (where I'd put it after removing it from my scarf, where I usually wear it) while at the Parting Glass. I called there but they hadn't seen it.

So I report it lost, fill out the form, get the new (fugly) photo taken and am issued a replacement ID.

Within an hour I get a call at my desk. A nice lady FOUND my old card Saturday night in Saratoga. Near Spa Catholic, so it must have fallen out while I was digging my gloves out of my pocket post-Dixie Cats show.

Twilight Zone moment #1: She works at the school in Glens Falls where my good friend MMB used to be principal. TZ moment #2: She shares my first name. TZ moment #3: She managed to track me down at work even though the ID had the old, pre-merger, now-nonexistent company name.

I almost wish I hadn't gone ahead and gotten the new card, as I'll miss the old one; I had it for eight years, including three when I didn't even work there. But knowing the way the law works in the Twilight Zone, I might not have reconnected with Stinkin' Badge #1 if not for obtaining Stinkin' Badge #2.

Sing it with me: Dee DEE dee dee ....

Happy 2006!

2006-01-01T11:45:00.000-08:00

I survived another New Year's Eve -- relatively sober, even. WB (I think I'm going to start calling him NiiceDuude here, because I can) and I went to First Night in Saratoga again. I wasn't all that psyched because it's cold and crowded, but it ended up being fun.

The good:

Nisky Dixie Cats
Annie and the Hedonists
Al and Kathy Bain
The Parting Glass was serving food and we grabbed dinner there. I hadn't eaten all day and pub grub always hits the spot!
The Glass was still serving when we returned around 10:30 p.m. We split a plate of nachos. Couldn't find the waiter for a second beer, but that's OK. I had beer at home that was already paid for!
Snow in the searchlights made them look all sparkly. Way cool!
Fireworks lighting up the snow
Cool oldies band at the Glass. Watching the dancin' fools. Bumming a smoke from one of them and having a nice chat.
Parking not as bad as some years.

The bad:
Acts we really wanted to see were on opposite ends of town.
Standing in line in the cold to get into Lena's
Hotel pub charging a $10 cover. We declined. If we're going to give a pub $10, that had better cover the first two beers!

The ugly:
Driving home in the worst of the snowstorm.

So obviously G > B&U combined.

Goodbye, 2005, hello 2006! Hope the new year brings good things to all of you who are reading this and all who are close to you.

Good news!

2005-12-29T18:59:00.000-08:00

No, I didn't save a bunch of money on my car insurance by switching to Geico. State Farm rules!

But I did find out I am eligible for paid holidays. I had no clue. And the last time holidays were an issue, my bookeeping was so facacta that I wouldn't know if I'd gotten holiday pay, as I have direct deposit, a bank that's very forgiving about overdrafts and (at that time) a tendency to float checks a day or two in advance of payday. I was just grateful to see a positive balance.

But I mentioned I was coming in on Friday because I couldn't afford to lose a day's pay (Monday having been a holiday), and R. informed me afterward that she'd found out we are eligible for holiday pay after six months. I've been there 14 months.

I already committed to come in Friday so S. can have the day off. But it will be gravy, at time and a half. And I don't have to work a full shift. Yaay!

Next step: Find out if I'm also eligible for paid vacation days, because I could use a few.

Happy Whatever!

2005-12-25T11:15:00.000-08:00

To my Christian friends and those who aren't Christian but celebrate Dec. 25 anyway: Merry Christmas!

To my Jewish friends: Happy Hanukkah!

To my pagan friends: Super Solstice!

To my atheist friends: Happy holidays/season's greetings!

To my "Seinfeld" fan friends: Fabulous Festivus!

Also cool Yule, kwazy Kwanzaa, righteous Ramadan ... there, did I forget anyone?

Oh, yeah, to Bill O'Reilly: Shut the fuck up! Go have some falafel!

Nobody's trying to take Christ out of Christmas by saying "Happy Holidays," OK, Billy boy? This season was sacred in many religions and traditions before Jesus came along. When I say "Happy holidays," I mean, "Blessings to you this season, no matter why it's special to you" -- and that INCLUDES those of you who celebrate the birth of Christ as your Savior.

I am not a Christian. I was raised Catholic. I no longer subscribe to any organized religion, although I believe in a Supreme Being. Today I celebrate Christmas as a historically and culturally significant holiday. And I don't leave Jesus out of it. While I don't believe he was necessarily born of a literal virgin with God as his biological father, he was a great man with an important message, and certainly important as a historical figure. So yeah, I don't worship Jesus as God but have no problem celebrating his birthday.

And I have no problem either, with acknowledging that others don't celebrate Christmas, but it's their holiday season, too.

Ah well, 24 hours from now we'll all be saying "Happy New Year" anyway. Meanwhile, whatever you're celebrating, have a happy one.

Blue skies! Puppies! Christmas presents! Oh, my!

2005-12-21T19:36:00.000-08:00

So to get rid of the sour taste from my previous hissyfit post, here's some nice stuff:

I was delayed getting into work this morning because I was making my famous deviled eggs for our department food day. Which means I actually drove to work in daylight. And the drive was MAGNIFICENT. All the trees were white with frost against a blue sky. We're talking postcard. We're talking calendar. We're talking visual Prozac here, folks.

Last night I met the latest addition to the D&SC family: an adorable little Yorkshire terrier. She was a bitch in every sense of the word when they got her, because her previous owners had let her be the alpha in the family pack. A few lessons in tough love from D&S, and she is a sweetie. She gave me kisses! They are looking for a new name for her; I suggested Star, because she is small and twinkly and her coat shines.

Today we exchanged secret Santa presents at work. I opted out of the Christmas shopping mania a few years ago. It's too stressful, too expensive, and even if I made twice what I make now, I'd never have the money to buy for everyone I'd want to give a gift to, nor do I have the time to make gifts for all of them. But I do participate in the secret Santa thing at work, and I bring a little something to whomever I spend Christmas Day with. GD was my work Santa and gave me a Barnes & Noble gift card, which is my favorite thing to get. I was MW's and gave her a movie lover's gift basket with DVD, which I literally got for a song.

See, I told you this was going to be about blue skies, puppies and Christmas presents. Would I lie?

I feel a rant on the "War on Christmas" thing coming on, but I'll save it for later. Cheers!

Warning: Major hissyfit alert

2005-12-19T20:08:00.000-08:00

It's my blog and I'll throw a hissyfit if I want to! I thought about posting in the Land of Confusion but I'd probably start a flame war and get sent to the BBQ Pit. Besides, there's that language filter.

The other day I did post there on how I thought Toxic Jock was getting boring and annoying lately, talking about little else besides himself and all the money he makes. That was before I heard, today on the podcast, his little speech in the third hour of Thursday's show, which also made me want to hurl (a) chunks, and (b) something large and heavy at my monitor.

How lovely for you, TJ, that you are having the best year of your life and the best Christmas ever and it's all because of Marcia!Marcia!Marcia! And how nice that you're sharing your good fortune with everyone. Everyone, that is, except the woman whose LIFE YOU RUINED FOR ALMOST TWO FUCKING YEARS!!! Who only wanted to be your friend. Whose mind you messed up with your line of bullshit and turned into a basket case for ALMOST TWO FUCKING YEARS!!!!
And whose relationships and finances may never completely recover from the lack of attention I gave them for ALMOST TWO FUCKING YEARS!!!! Whom you called "pushy" -- and worse -- because all I wanted was to understand why YOU STOPPED pushing.

What really got me was the way you threw the ex-Mrs. Jock under the bus. She didn't sell your story to the tabloids for big bucks. She approached ONE newspaper to tell the story of your breakdown because (a) thousands of people, like me, were genuinely worried, and (b) rumors were starting to fly and she wanted to squelch them before your reputation was damaged. And yet you call what she did "exploitative"?

I was always your biggest defender. When someone came online and said they'd had an unpleasant encounter with you, I was the first to jump up and take your side. How blind I was.

I'm not bitter because of Marcia. I'm bitter because you stole ... did I mention it was ALMOST TWO FUCKING YEARS!!!! of my life and haven't expended so much as a second of remorse or regret. You've just gone on to have the best year of your life while I'm still recovering from ALMOST TWO of the FUCKING WORST of mine.

That Vacation From Which You May Never Return? I hope you don't. And to steal one of your expressions, I hope you step in dog shit every day for the rest of your miserable life.

End of hissyfit.

New Year's resolutions revisited

2005-12-15T20:46:00.000-08:00

Another great idea copped from a friend's blog! Instead of big, ambitious New Year's resolutions like losing 50 pounds or quitting smoking (I once had a friend who resolved to do that. She was going to quit at the stroke of midnight, then postponed it to midnight on the West Coast. What's next? Quit on Chinese New Year? Jewish New Year?), list the things you want to do in the next year that may not necessarily be life-changing but will add up to make your life better.

I recently came up with another idea: Old Year's resolutions. Think of something you left undone this year and do it in the time remaining, like reconnecting with an old friend, finishing that writing or craft project, seeing that movie everyone talked about.

Anyway, here's my 2006 "wanna-do" list, a work in progress:

Practice guitar at least once a week.
Play music with WB at least twice a month.
Meet RF in person (if we don't get to that in 2005).
Visit the library at least once a month.
Find some interesting low/no-carb recipes.
Get to know Mrs. JB better.
Learn "A Gathering of Spirits."
Learn "Calling All the Children Home."
Create a morris dance to "Tiptoe Through the Tulips" for the Tulip Festival.
Sell at least one article or short story.
Call my mom more, and send her pictures.
Save something out of each paycheck.
Get a professional bra fitting.
Resume home brewing.
Finish baby afghans for Michelle and the wee Tell.
Buy a pair of jeans that fits and flatters.
Plant something in my flower bed.
Get new glasses.
Attend doo-wop at least once a month.
Exercise peripheral vision.
Learn all the words to "That's What Friends Are For" (aka Potatoes & Tomatoes)
Buy an Old Songs Brick with "It's a Pleasure to Know You."
Offer something on Freecycle at least once a month.
Try to make someone else's day as often as possible.
Dig out one of the craft supplies I bought years ago (rug braiding kit, copper cross-stitch magnets) and complete a project.
Make dinner (or breakfast, or both) for WB at least once a month.
Host an a cappella sing.

I may not get to them all, but even if I get to only a few, life will be good (not that it isn't now).

OK, fellow bloggers, you know who you are. I showed you mine, now you show me yours!

2005, folk processed

2005-12-14T22:43:00.000-08:00

The idea came from SyncretistFool, who also took some liberties with the formula, which is to recycle the first sentence of your first blogs of each month into your year in review.

I've only been blogging since June, and my first post/first sentences aren't all that good, so I cherry picked some lines from each month's blogs for my year in review. Here goes:

OK, so I finally did it.

Physically I have reconnected with the world, but emotionally and intellectually, I still feel disconnected to some degree.

I have been corresponding with an old friend.

have expended a hell of a lot of mental energy these past few days over two people -- ToxicJock and MarciaMarciaMarcia -- who couldn't care less if I dropped off the face of the earth.

Office politics suck.

GET OFF MY RADIO, BITCH!!!!!! There, I'm over it. No, really. I'm over it.

Phase One of holiday celebration complete

Still sort of lame, but these are the lowlights.

More cute quizzes -- thanks, Mrs. Pi!

2005-12-12T16:21:00.000-08:00

Your Christmas is Most Like: How the Grinch Stole Christmas

You can't really get into the Christmas spirit...
But it usually gets to you by the end of the holiday.

What Movie Is Your Christmas Most Like?

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few.
But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky.

Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

Phase One of holiday celebration complete

2005-12-11T01:32:00.000-08:00

Nowell Sing We Clear and the Threesome's tree-trimming/SyncretistFool'sbirthday party duly attended. It's the big Three-Oh for SF on the 14th. Happy birthday, sweetie!

Today is mine, but no milestone involved. I'm 47, just feeling old.

Coming up: a quiet birthday celebration with me and WB, and next weekend, the Wassail, which is my family Christmas celebration. The following, possibly a quiet celebration with Mr. and Mrs. JB and maybe some other random friends. But as long as I have Nowell and Wassail, my holiday is complete.

Nowell had to have the topical humor, of course. We were waiting for a John Roberts joke in the mummers play. For the uninitiated, one of the guys in the Nowell Sing We Clear troupe is named John Roberts for real.

Tony Barrand in drag: "I'm Harriet Miers."

John (as Father Christmas): "If you're Harriet Miers, I'm John Roberts!"

Good times! Despite the pain of seeing Tony more incapacitated by MS each year. Stings particularly hard this year as on the way home I heard the news that Richard Pryor had succumbed to MS today. R.I.P, R.P.

Five evil words:

2005-12-03T21:35:00.000-08:00

"YOUR BROWSER IS NOT SUPPORTED."

I had some problems earlier today trying to post to my blog using my Internet Explorer 5.1. In the course of investigating said problems, I discovered the above. Blogger/Blogspot doesn't support IE5.

Problem seems to have resolved itself (I am currently composing this using IE5). But in the meantime I had to download iCab to get my previous post up.

This has been a GPO (Giant Piss-Off) since Twinkletoze sent me a link to an Onion article that I could not access because Onion's site doesn't support my browser and in lieu of content gave me the evil YBINS page. I've gotten that message before (pbs.org, lookin' at you!) but at least got to see the content.

Memo to Internet gods: Not all of us are made of money, and we are still using older 'puters that will not support OSX, which is what is required to use your beloved Firefox. I am far ahead of where I was two years ago when I was running OS 7.6.1 -- I have cable Internet! Yaay! -- but I am not in a position to drop 2 grand on a Mac running OSX.

We may not be made of money but we still have disposable income, and you are losing revenue in the form of access to your sites and your advertisers by shutting us out. Not to mention the good will. ONION SUCKS! ONION SUCKS! ONION SUCKS! Get my drift?

Ten-plus things that make me happy

2005-12-03T13:37:00.000-08:00

I have been tagged by SyncretistFool to list 10 things that make me happy. I don't think I can stop at 10 but I'll try to exercise some self-restraint.

1. Loving and being loved.
2. Cuddling my puddytats.
3. Singing with several dozen of my closest friends.
3a. Finding the perfect harmony.
4. "Fish and Whistle" by John Prine (audio Prozac!).
5. Extra-crispy Buffalo wings.
6. A perfectly poured pint of Guinness.
7. Waking up from an upsetting dream to discover it was all a dream.
8. Matching wits with smart people.
9. Long weekends.
10. A comfy chair and a good book.
11. Folk festivals (see 1, 3 and 3a).

Your turn, Bean and Mrs. Pi!

Happy birthday, dear WB!!!!

2005-11-29T18:32:00.000-08:00

You cradle robber! Dating a woman 11 years younger! Ah, but in 12 days I shall be a mere 10 years younger. For those who don't know the back story, WB is now 57 and I am 46, soon to be 47 and waaaay too close to 50. Damn, we are old!

So this is what closure feels like!

2005-11-27T18:29:00.000-08:00

Every day my mind drifts back to Toxic Jock, for a little bit. And with every passing day, I relive the events of 2003 and realize that WB was right.

Me: But feelings like that couldn't just evaporate overnight! He has to still feel something!

WB: Look, I'm a guy. Been there, done that. Guys will say or do ANYTHING if they think it's going to get them laid.

Me: No, no, I know genuine emotion when I see it!

WB: Read. My. Lips. And see above.

Grossly paraphrased, but you get the idea. Bottom line: Every time I relive the situation in my head, it becomes clearer and clearer that WB was right. I got played like a Stradifuckinvarius. Memo to any guys reading this who are desperate to get laid: Play the "I can't deal with being just friends. I gotta have more because you are so special" card. Memo to any women reading this who are dealt that card: RUN SCREAMING IN THE OTHER DIRECTION.

So. I got played. I not only realize that now, but accept it. He's an asshole. He's still entertaining, but nowhere near as compelling as he used to be. Podcasts are white noise to block out annoying chitchat at work, not words to hang onto.

In other news: A most excellent night of Hedonism. HR has transformed from an annoying, screaming toddler into a lovely soon-to-be-woman who has inherited her momma's pipes and her daddy's musicianship. AF has transformed from a li'l Cabbage Patch Kid clone (What? Cabbage Patch Kids are cute) into a cool chick with a tat and red dreads who sings Joni Mitchell songs better than Joni.

Still other news: I called my mom on Thanksgiving and it didn't suck! No guilt trips, no "why don't you call more often?" Just two girls updating each other's lives and even cracking jokes:

Mom: "I'm getting fitted for hearing aids, and that's a pain in the ass."

Me: "Ma ... they don't go in your ass."

Mom: ::cracks up::

Either they served good wine with Thanksgiving dinner at the senior complex, or my mama has finally figured out that (a) she will never understand me, (b) I will never be the stereotypical dutiful daughter and (c) she's cool with that. Either way, it's all good.

Still more news: A family I adore is expecting an addition! Yaay!

Hungover, hormonal and happy

2005-11-20T17:30:00.000-08:00

H1 because the party was at my house so I didn't have to stop at three beers. H2 because it's That Time, and the closer I get to the big M the more hormonal I get at That Time. H3 because I have the greatest friends EVAH, and the past 24 hours have been filled with their presence. Even if I don't get to eat turkey on Thursday -- which will probably be the case since the usual suspects will be out of town -- I can still give thanks. This is me starting early.

Did I mention my peeps rock?

GET OFF MY RADIO, BITCH!!!!!!

2005-11-17T19:51:00.000-08:00

There, I'm over it. No, really. I'm over it.

Your turn, Bean. Mrs. Pi and I have both posted blog entries with the B word in the title. Just hoping yours doesn't say "NiiceLaady (or Mrs. Pi) is a bitch"! Maybe something about Jefferson? She's a bitch in a good way!

Good things about my life: Many awesome friends who will be coming here Saturday. Many others who won't but I still love them. Made all deadlines at work so holiday moveup won't be horrendous. Got my health and all my faculties, etc., etc. (knocking wood -- thanks, Mom).

Things that could be better: Cats thinking outside the box. Much to do in the next couple of days, and not much time. Body playing annoying premenopausal games. Imminent birthday making me feel old (speaking of annoying and premenopausal).

Good outweighs bad, though; it always does. I am off to the Land of Confusion to share some thoughts on recycling and television (unrelated, although TV does an awful lot of recycling). Cheers!

Corned beef enchiladas, anyone?

2005-11-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

Yes, kids, there is an Irish-Mexican restaurant in beautiful downtown Troylet. It's called Jose Malone's. No, they don't serve corned-beef enchiladas, but being new, they have a very limited, and rather disappointing, IMO, menu. Those who had the beef Guinness stew were not happy about its excessive sweetness. I had the salad and was displeased to find it did not come with cheese (despite the menu saying it did) and no dressing. Basically greens, a few pieces of chicken, tomatoes and carrots. Pico de gallo and cheese dip were good, although being on Atkins, I had to use a fork instead of chips to get any.

But not a total loss, as I got to hang with WB, JB, PB and GDA -- who continues to be awesome and gave me some excellent insights into bipolar folk (extremely charismatic -- check -- big fat liars -- check -- conscience-challeged playas -- check -- who believe their own lies -- probably check). And Jose's had Fuller's ESB on tap, and the brewpub (where we started the evening) had oatmeal stout on special. My tastebuds thank you, my liver thanks you, and my wallet thanks you.

Attempt to get new friends here next weekend is not going well. Digigal is on the fence, RF is unavailable, Mrs. Pi gave me an "I'll think about it" and June C. is MIA. That last one hurts the most, but I have resolved to not let it break my heart if this turns out to be one of those friendships that just fizzles out. I adore her, and it would suck if she doesn't want to be friends anymore, but I will always be grateful she was there a year ago. If not for her, I might be in Four Winds today -- or in the ground.

But I have gazillions of old friends, and they are the bestest people in the world, and a bunch of them will be here next Saturday, and I will have a blast with them even if none of the newbies makes it.

BTW, the folks with whom I have shared the existence of this blog are pretty much the same folks who are invited next weekend. If you are reading this and did not get an invitation, it's probably because I figured you wouldn't be able to attend because of distance, allergies or previous commitments. If you are free, willing to make the drive and can tolerate the three cats, consider yourself invited and e-mail me for directions.

Time to go give Home Depot a bunch of money to make this place suitable for entertaining.

Lukewarm turkey

2005-11-03T00:58:00.000-08:00

Between the fact that I worked some late hours last week and a certain individual's computer issues that kept new podcasts from being posted, and the fact I can no longer download them in their entirety at work, I have been less exposed to Toxic Jock recently, and this has helped.

I have not totally cut TJ out of my life (see subject line). I still drive home via Saratoga because the signal comes in sooner that way, and I still tune out when he's talking to Marcia. But I find myself revisiting the acute Toxic Jock Syndrome period less and less. And when I do, my thoughts are along the lines of: All those words I hung on and believed every bit of -- so much of it was bullshit! All I have to do is listen to the live spots. Companies he praised to the skies once upon a time have fallen off the radar or have become active dissing targets. Like me.

What is so tragic about no longer being part of his world? The same thing that sucks about being a Baldwin (tm "South Park: Bigger, Longer & Uncut"): NOTHING!!!!!

If blogspot, like livejournal, had the "current music" option, right about now mine would be Christine Lavin's "What Was I Thinking?"

Kentucky Fried NiiceLaady

2005-10-27T21:32:00.000-07:00

Damn, this week has been a bitch! I didn't leave work until 8 p.m. and stuff still isn't done. I had no brain cells left. Hello weekend OT!

Chalk it up to losing half of Monday (move-related business) and most of Wednesday (department "retreat"). This is my brain. This is my brain on moving, work and insufficient sleep.

Good news is: I don't have to work my second job tomorrow! A most pleasant surprise. I could use the bucks but have OT coming from job 1.

Happy Big Six-Five to the amazing JB. Love ya!

Moved (well, almost)

2005-10-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

I still have a few things to transfer from the old place; I ran out of daylight. The important thing is I got the cats over here. I was afraid I'd have to break out the Havaheart trap for Ed and Rozita -- who were both very hidey and skittish about the whole idea -- but they made it here without that, and it's all good. Rozita protested the most violently about going in the carrier, but Ed was the big sulky-pants. I had to take the top off and talk nice to him before he got out.

And of course all three of them are skulking around and being suspicious because it's a brand new place. It's home, kids, and it's bigger and cleaner than the old one, so enjoy!

This living room is too bare. Anyone got a couch they're not using?

I need to take some action

2005-10-19T20:49:00.000-07:00

Listening to yesterday's podcast this morning, I found myself feeling far too much glee at hearing TJ dissing Marcia, and far too much distress at hearing them make up in the next hour.

I continue to ask myself: Why? I DON'T WANT the bastard. She can have him. But a big part of me wants to see the relationship crash and burn, wants to see her passive-aggressive little heart get shattered once again. I don't like this feeling, nor do I understand it. She is my sister. We both got our hearts broken by TJ once upon a time. I don't want to wish her ill. So why do I?

I know I need to move on, but I can't seem to. I think what I need to do is take some concrete action, something more than trying to tell myself to move on. Because that isn't working.

Moving out of this place will help a lot. It was while living here I lost many good friends: Sam, Linda, Shaka, Mona, Pumpernickel. It was here I lost my grip on reality. It is time to start over.

I'm thinking a housewarming of sorts once I get settled in the new place. Perhaps with a little "one-woman show" in which I sing a song or two, recite some words, receive some hugs and finally purge what's left of this unhealthy fixation from my soul.

I dearly hope I can persuade my new friends to attend: June C., RF, Digi, and Mrs. Pi, the ones who truly understand. And of course, the old friends who stayed with me through the worst of it.

Meanwhile, I have found some new podcasts to listen to at work. I can still handle TJ in small, relatively Marcia-free doses; today's show cracked me up like old times. But it's nice to have alternatives.

Tentatively thinking Nov. 19 for the aforementioned housewarming/soul-purging. Who's there?

I hate staying out late on "school nights," but ...

2005-10-16T23:59:00.000-07:00

... tonight was worth it! Pokingbrook Morris banquet moved to Sunday from its usual Saturday because of conflicts with other stuff going on in the music/dance community, including the kickass Johnson Girls concert WB and I attended last night.

Highlights: singing "Happy Birthday" to CB's voice mail. She's 21 -- yaay! Squire Emeritus' "award" to WB: underwear and socks! (Backstory: We shared a motel room last spring with The Squire and SE, who inadvertently got dressed in WB's underwear, socks and T-shirt, while WB was in the shower, thinking they were his own.) Young Mr. B. singing the Lord Nelson song. JW's tribute to ForeLady.

Even the food prep was fun, which it isn't always (nothing personal, JB; it's the nature of the beast. It's work!). Even WB had fun! And there was a designated cleanup committee so I didn't have to stay late. If not, I'd probably still be there.

Out of ketosis, though, even though I was careful. No pasta, no crackers, no candy, no cheesecake. Maybe it was the apples in the pumpkin soup. Ah well, tomorrow is another day.

Nice to meet you; I'm chopped liver.

2005-10-13T20:37:00.000-07:00

This is one of those can't-get-my-mind-around-it situations.

I've been working for this company for a year. It's the same place I worked for six years before leaving to be a teacher. They were thrilled to get me back, because, well, I rock. (Hey, false modesty is overrated.)

But here's the deal. I don't technically work for The Company; I'm employed by a temp agency. That happened to be where the available funds were at the time I was rehired -- in the temp budget.

BossLady has since been cleared to add a position to The Company payroll in her department. Specifically, my position. And I wouldn't really have a problem with the internal job posting if it were just to satisfy a bunch of EOE requirements -- you know, gotta prove we're making the job available to minorities and all that.

But what really fries my ass is that this isn't the reason. The reason is that they must consider qualified applicants from WITHIN the company before considering an outsider. The outsider being ... me.

Excuse me? I've been doing this job for a YEAR. I did it for SIX YEARS previously. And a bunch of people who don't know the ins and outs of the job one-millionth as well as I do are ahead of me in line because of who signs my paychecks? What is wrong with this picture?

I'm not worried that one of these "internal" applicants will beat me out for the position; I am obviously the most qualified based on the fact that I don't have "related" experience; I have THE experience. And BossLady has no interest in hiring anyone but me.

Add to this the fact that a co-worker, for whom I have nothing but admiration and respect, is annoyed at the fact that some of us have answered queries about "the opening" to the effect that it's going to me. Because she is married to one of those "qualified internal applicants" and thinks he should have a fair shot at the position. I like her, and I like him, but I'd also like to see him try doing this job for a week and doing it better than me. Of course he could do it with training, but hello? I'm already trained! I'm already doing it! Besides, I can tell her from bitter experience that working too close to a loved one is a recipe for disaster.

But I will be a good girl and answer any future queries about the position with, "Ask BossLady."

Hell, if it weren't for the lack of bennies -- which I sorely felt last week when I had to shell out $90 for a doctor visit and $88 for a prescription (that is not a typo), I'd be perfectly content to stay with the temp agency. They pay weekly!

Office politics suck. End of rant.

Not a bad day after all

2005-10-13T00:05:00.000-07:00

... despite hassles at work and a fire alarm/building evacuation that went on far too long.

I wanted to blow off morris dance practice again but I'm so glad I went. I can now dance Upton-on-Severn -- or as we affectionately call it, Upchuck-on-Several. That won't mean a thing to you non-morris dancers, but suffice to say that it's a dance I first tried to learn six years ago and failed, and hadn't had a decent opportunity to learn it since then, until tonight. ForeDude is an excellent teacher!

Since I posted last there has been: an excellent concert with Tom Lewis, a fun evening with Mrs. Pi at the Black Cat, a return to doo-wop, a long-overdue doctor visit for a minor but annoying issue -- and finally got a referral to Core Physical Therapy for another MBAI, which I hope to start once I move and the budget loosens up.

Happy Big Six-Oh to DC, my good friend, bandmate and soon-to-be-ex-landlord, who not only rocks, but folks, countries and swings! LuvU2bits, buddy!

Blam!

2005-09-28T19:28:00.000-07:00

No, that's not me channelling Emeril with an Asian accent. "Blam" is my word for unsolicited comments on blogs. Blog + Spam -- get it?

I've gotten one and that's one too many. So I've adjusted my settings to require those who post comments to verify they are real people with the letter-recognition option.

That shuts out people who don't have Blogspot accounts, but if you don't, and you care enough to be reading my blog, you probably have my e-mail address or can get it from a mutual friend. Or you can send me a Yahoo! IM or a private message in the Land of Confusion.

Anyway, if you're here, scroll down to the previous post, courtesy of the Toxic Jock Syndrome Foundation.

Goes in here, comes out there ...

2005-09-27T20:29:00.000-07:00

Maybe it has to do with listening to yesterday's show on the podcast and finding out that MarciaMarciaMarcia was at Benson's on Saturday with Toxic Jock. I am so glad I didn't see them.

Then I got to thinking about how I do NOT want to go to the event on Thursday if there is any chance she's going to be there. I started weighing all my options: I can try to find out if Shields is open tonight or tomorrow night or if they'll still take donations Friday. I know they're not open Saturday, because I went there after Benson's hoping to drop off my tools.

Then there's the other option: I can return the tools I bought or simply keep them. I can use a cat's paw, and while I already have a hammer, I can always use another -- one for the house and one to keep with the tent stakes, perhaps? It would be cool to give them to Habitat, but the response has been so huge they won't be missed.

Bottom line? I have expended a hell of a lot of mental energy these past few days over two people -- ToxicJock and MarciaMarciaMarcia -- who couldn't care less if I dropped off the face of the earth. Yes, both of them once cared about me, but as June C. pointed out, that is ancient history.

When I realized I could spare myself a whole lot of nervousness and awkwardness simply by IGNORING THE WHOLE FUCKING EVENT, I was finally able to hear what June has been trying to tell me: I need to move on. It's been more than a year since I was truly obsessed with trying to get TJ to care again, but there's still been that part of me that wants him to still feel SOMETHING -- even if it's just some remorse for causing me that year and a half of suffering, or pleasure at my willingness to support his pet causes. I've even been wishing I could spare $250 to buy an hour of Thursday's show, just to knock his socks off.

No more. No more will everything that "goes in here" automatically "come out there." Not my "there."

The more I think about my early connection with TJ the less impressed I am with what went down back then. The conversation was good but not the Greatest MindMeld Ever. The attention was intoxicating, but intoxication causes hangovers and other consequences. It was like crack, but -- say it, June! -- crack is bad for you!

Time will tell if I can continue to listen, but I hope I can. When I broke free of the obsession I was able to enjoy the show. It's only since Marcia that I've found it difficult again. But what I'm feeling now is similar to the sensation of freedom I felt once the obsession broke, so that's a good sign.

Anyone wanna buy some baggage?

I'm not much for these silly quizzes, but ...

2005-09-23T19:45:00.000-07:00

This one is so me! Thanks, Mrs. Pi (another idealist)!

Your Personality Is

Idealist (NF)

You are a passionate, caring, and unique person.
You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals.

You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily.
Your heart tends to rule you. You can't make decisions without considering feelings.

You seek out other empathetic people to befriend.
Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships.

In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily.

At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career.

With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone.

As far as your looks go, you've likely taken the time to develop your own personal style.

On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours.

The Three Question Personality Test

Thanks a lot, Eddie!

2005-09-21T22:07:00.000-07:00

Speshul Ed has been catching mice! I have caught him with two in the past week. Don't ask me where he found them. I have seen/heard no evidence of meeces in the house -- no turdlets, no squeaks, no scratches, only that low growl from Eddie that I've learned means "I have a mouse in my jaws."

So Ed is a mouser after all, despite his previous owners' belief that he didn't have what it takes. That's the good news. The bad news is, I think the rodent invaders have graced us with itty-bitty fleas. I mean tiny, way smaller than those I used to find even on Mona during bad flea seasons. After an alert from an itchy WB (I have no symptoms myself), I combed Rozita and found some wee specks that I would never have pegged as fleas had I not seen them move.

So this means sprays and drops and medicated soaps and serial quarantining are in our immediate future (stay OUT of the bedroom, Rozita! Off the couch, Ed!) and maybe a bomb after I've moved the bulk of my stuff (and the cats) to Schuylerville.

More good news: I have officially entered the 21st century! Yes, Virginia, I have a DVD player. Still haven't figured out all the ins and outs of making it do its thing(s), but I can play DVDs at least!

A most excellent Gasp

2005-09-08T19:38:00.000-07:00

Maybe not in my top 5 but still pretty damn good. Made a new friend: the lovely and talented GDA, whom I will forgive for making single-malt scotch available to mix with my beer and causing me a nasty hangover on Sunday. He didn't pour it down my throat, after all! Lots of good singing, excellent JB chow, phenomenal WB omelets. The guitar stayed in the case, but that's OK. When it comes to the Pickin' and Singin' Gatherin', two out of three ain't bad.

Solidarity Singers gig on Monday went well also, although I think the hip-hoppers siphoned off a lot of our audience, which was spread out more than normal due to the geography of the place, and we had some weird sound issues. But when have we ever NOT had weird sound issues?

I have three blessed days off and a ton of work to do, but also a ton of fun to be had (tugboat sing Friday -- yaay!).

Rozita escaped yesterday but was home shortly after dark last night none the worse for wear. I was worried for a while since she had never been out and her timid genes are still dominant. It was Ed who coaxed her back inside after Mindy showed her the way.

Notes to self:

Bring more money to Solidarity gigs in order to more freely partake of the bumper stickers, buttons etc. WB needs a "bring the troops home" yellow ribbon but I didn't have enough cash to get two.
Find a sturdier tent with decent zippers.
Never attend a festival without Anacin.
Never mix beer and scotch.
Always remember how lucky I am to have so many awesome friends.

They moved through the fair ...

2005-08-28T01:32:00.000-07:00

... 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

2005-08-25T20:41:00.000-07:00

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 ...

2005-08-21T21:04:00.000-07:00

... 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!

2005-08-18T19:44:00.000-07:00

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.

2005-08-14T18:06:00.000-07:00

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!

2005-08-11T20:24:00.000-07:00

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.