Autumn In New York

I sat here in the lobby of the hotel yesterday morning and watched the sun rise on the tree outside the window and thought how lovely that we are experiencing, as my friend Ron put it, "a glorious autumn."

It had not been a good night, bed-wise and I was up with stabbing back pains at 2:30, finally giving up and coming downstairs at 5 to read.

Walt lazed about in bed until a good 7 or so and finally came down and joined me for breakfast here in the hotel, then we started on our day of exploration.

My friend Lynn (Houston) was here for a weekend with a group of friends and we had made plans to meet her and go to lunch, so we took the bus up to Times Square and waited by the George M. Cohan statue. They are preparing for the big Macy*s Thanksgiving parade already and there were bleachers set up and barricades ready to be put into place at the right time.

It was so good to see Lynn.

We went, en masse, to a Mediterranean restaurant called "Dervish." One of her group, a woman named Jo, had traveled to Turkey several times, teaching students about neonatal intensive care, so she loved Mediterranean food and she was invaluable in ordering, as well as communicating with the waiter.

We ordered several appetizers and three entrees and all shared...it was more than enough.

The dolmas were the best that I'd ever had...I could have made a meal on those alone (and I'm not a big fan of dolmas!).

As we sat and visited, the background noise got louder and louder. When Lynn's friend Kerm complained to the waiter, he was told that there was a very important soccer match going on, so we understood and just put up with the noise (later, as we walked thru the front part of the restaurant, we realized that there were big screen TVs there and lots of Turkish-looking people very involved in the game).

Jo told us a lot about traveling in Turkey, so now I'm all enthused about going and hoping that our proposed trip will actually happen at some point.

After lunch, we said goodbye to Lynn et al. They were off to see a show, and we were off for a tour of Radio City Music Hall. We got tickets for the 2 p.m. tour, which gave us half an hour to kill, so we walked up to Rockefeller Plaza to see the big Christmas tree, which is being decorated for a December lighting. I never knew how they decorated that tree and it was actually quite interesting.

There were men on each of the levels of scaffolding around the tree, shaping it by trimming off extraneous branches and putting on lights. The star on the left there will go on the top of the tree.

We also stopped to watch the ice skaters.

We finally returned to Radio City Music Hall, where we had a fascinating backstage tour (and where I climbed more stairs that I think I did in Europe -- minus those 300 stairs down to Portovenere).

The walls backstage are lined with movie posters.

We watched the finale of the show that we are seeing on Sunday from a viewing booth, watched a film about the building, its history and its technical aspects (most of which I have now forgotten, but it was fascinating), and "Merrell," one of the Rockettes talked about costumes and what it's like to be a Rockette.

When we left there, I was ready to sit down somewhere, so I sat down by a fountain across the street from Radio City while Walt did some walking around. I sat there watching it get darker and getting colder.

We discovered that a cell phone is pretty much useless in this town. There is so much noise that you can't hear it ring. I called Steve, he called me twice, I called Walt, he called me and none of us heard any of the rings, but we got a lot of "missed calls. I still haven't actually spoken with Steve.

We tried to decide whether we were going to hang around downtown or go back to the hotel before our 8 p.m. show, but it was too early and too cold to find a place to stay for 3 hours, so we came back to the hotel. I chose not to climb the 40 stairs to the room, but sat in the lobby and read for awhile until it was time to leave to go back and find some dinner and the theatre.

I have to say that Walt has been just fantastic, parking me someplace and going to find the closest bus stop or a metro station with an elevator. I've given up even feeling guilty about it...I'm just feeling grateful!

We had tickets for Danny and Sylvia, a show about Danny Kaye, starring the amazing Brian Childers as Danny Kaye and Kimberley Faye Greenberg as his wife, Sylvia Fine.

First we stopped off at Famiglia, self-described as "New York's Favorite Pizza." It's a little hole in the wall, and I laughed at the description, but since it was wall to wall people trying to get pizza and since the pizza we had was delicious, the description may just be right!

We got to St. Luke's Theatre (lots of churches seem to double as theatres) for the show. We were about the first to arrive and while we were waiting two different groups came in looking for Zero Hour, to be directed to the St. Clement's Theatre, one block away. In truth, during the evening, I heard several different groups discussing Zero Hour, which I figured was a good sign!

The Danny Kaye show was delightful and Childers nicely captured the Danny Kaye I remember so fondly. We had front row center tickets, which I wondered about when we saw clearly that Childers is a "spitter," but no globules landed on the audience, so we just enjoyed the show.

Then back to the hotel. By the time we got here, I was too tired to climb up to the room, so I sat for about half an hour downstairs and tried to read, but was too sleepy. When I finally dragged myself upstairs I did something I have never done before--at least not in recent memory. I walked in the door, collapsed on the bed and declared I was too tired to write this journal entry. I think I was asleep within 5 minutes.

Of course I was up a couple of times with back pain and got up to come down here to the lobby at 5:30, but all things considered, I feel more rested this morning and not nearly as sore as I was last night.

And tonight we finally attend opening night of Zero Hour.

Oh...and Ashley says Higgins got adopted yesterday!

Hello from the Big Apple

21 November 2009

We have arrived, after a long day. Travel days are always long. It began very early. We planned to leave at 4. I was so afraid I'd oversleep that I didn't get to sleep until after 1 and then woke up at 3:30, a few minutes before the timer on the stove went off.

We got the dogs fed. Even they seemed to wonder what I was doing feeding them in the middle of the night.

(this may be the last picture of Higgins!)

Fortunately, we were only 3 blocks away when I realized I'd left my coat at home. After weeks of worrying about the weather and I leave the coat I'd decided would work at home. The dogs thought we were prowlers and set up barking when we pulled back into the driveway.

Finally, we were on the road and found out that if you need to be where the action is in Sacramento airport at 5 a.m., just go to the Sacramento airport! We had a plane change in Minneapolis and both flights were full, so we sat in separate rows. They gave us 2 cookies on the first leg and the teeniest bag of peanuts you've ever seen on the second. Fortunately, I had brought granola bars.

We had a l-o-n-g gate change to make and about 10 minutes to do it in, so it was very good that one of those airport tram cars showed up and we gratefully accepted the offer of a ride. I was sorry that we had no time because they had a lot of really interesting looking shops that would have been fun to browse. And all the people on the speakers sounded like my friend Mary.

At the gate while we were waiting to board, there was a couple there with a Boxer puppy who looked so much like Freddie, except that this puppy (whom they had just picked up that day and who didn't even have a name yet) was only 8 weeks old and nowhere close to Freddie's size (though they guesstimate that he will probably be 70 lbs when fully grown). The puppy fit in a carrier that went under the seat and I thought of how much easier it would have been if we had been able to get Lester to Jeri & Phil when she was that size!

I was worried about the NY leg of the trip because there was a child, who sounded like s/he must have been somewhere between 12-18 months old, who screamed nonstop for about 10 minutes, but finally did fall asleep.

We began to come into New York. I was fortunate that I was on the left side of the plane, the view side, though I'm not sure this picture of the statue of Liberty was worth it!

But this one made up for what I didn't get of the Statue of Liberty.

By the time we actually landed, we were treated to a gorgeous sunset.

The first store we passed on our way from the plane to outside was a book store with this display in the window.

We took a cab in to the hotel, the same hotel where we stayed when we were last here, to see The Big Voice: God or Merman. I was sad to see that it no longer flew a rainbow flag out in front, and wonder if the ownership has changed. But it's a convenient location even if I have to climb two v-e-r-y long flights of stairs to get to our room.

The cab ride was interesting. We saw a TV billboard for some weight loss program, and the TV in the back of the cab was showing commercials like an ad for Regis & Joy Philbin's new album and one of which was a notice letting New Yorkers know that if you have past due citations for things like defiling a building, not picking up garbage, etc, the city will give you a pass on the penalties for the next couple of months. I felt like a real hick from the sticks even noticing this stuff.

We were both starving, so after we settled into our room, we wandered up 8th Street and found a nice Thai place to eat, where we started with a delicious shrimp and crab appetizer.

After dinner we came back to the hotel and Walt was very nice and went upstairs to bring my computer down for me. I'm doing my journal and he is out taking a walk around the neighborhood--we are both doing things that we love!

It's only 6 p.m. California time, but I'm fading quickly and will be going up to our room soon and try to get a little sleep,.

Off to the Big Apple

I will probably be on a plane when most of you are reading this entry. Walt tells me we are leaving the house at 4 a.m. four our 6-something flight.

I'm not looking forward to the flight. I think we change planes twice and the bulk of the flight will have us both in middle seats. I don't mind being in a middle seat, if necessary, with Walt on one side, but if I have to sit between two strangers, I am sorely aware that both of them are grumbling to themselves about having to sit next to a big fat lady. I spend the whole time getting myself into the "smallest" possible body posture I can and am sore and uncomfortable for the whole flight, and want to apologize to both of my seatmates. If there is a meal to be served, I will probably not take it, because I can't fold the tray table down in front of me and won't have Walt's tray to use.

We arrive in New York around 6:30 p.m., NY time on Friday and will fly out at the crack of dawn on Tuesday morning.

But we couldn't not go. After a couple of years of playing around the country, everywhere to rave reviews, Steve's husband Jimmy is opening his Zero Hour in New York.

We have seen this show several times and couldn't NOT be there when he finally achieves his dream of performing it in his beloved New York.

Coincidentally, my friend Lynn (from Houston) is going to be in New York at the same time, so we are meeting her and her friend Kerm at the George M. Cohan statue in Times Square (how more "New York" can you get?) for brunch on Saturday. Not sure what else we are going to do on Saturday, but we thought we might try to get to Ellis Island, which we've never visited before.

I just bought tickets for Danny and Sylvia, the story of Danny Kaye and his wife Sylvia Fine, for Saturday night.

Zero Hour opens on Sunday and my friend Ron has tickets for it too, and we are looking forward to seeing him and other Last Session friends (like Amy) who will be attending the opening.

Then on Monday we will see the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. I figure it's my only opportunity to be in New York over the holiday time and everybody tells me I need to see this show at least once in my life.

Monday night we move to a motel near the airport so we don't have to worry about traffic for our eary morning flight home on Tuesday. And then back to the middle seat of the plane for the ride home.

It will be short, but I have been informed that it's not going to be as cold as I feared, but may be raining. I can do rain. Might even be a nice change.

Basically I just want to be there to support Jimmy and, when he wins all the awards for this show, to be able to say "I was there when he got discovered" !!

I'm bringing the laptop and they tell me the hotel has added wifi since were last there, so I hope to keep up with the journal over the weekend, but probably posting at odd times.

Not at all Funny

I saw this on the net today:

A lot of funny things float around the internet and some of them are actually funny. This one is terrifying.

You may or may not have heard that there is a movement to "pray for Obama" floating around some of the fundamentalist extremists.

Now on the surface you'd wonder what could be wrong with praying for the president, or what might even be funny about it.

This is the t-shirt that goes along with the "funny" forward above.

Looks harmless above, unless you know that Psalm 109:8 reads "Let his days be few; and let another take his office," a verse which is followed by this one: "Let his children be fatherless, and his wife a widow," and then "Let his children be continually vagabonds, and beg: let them seek their bread also out of their desolate places."

This shirt is available at Cafe Press, a mainstream web site where thousands of people sell their creations. There was a rush of people on Twitter who all began posting the psalm reference in their tweets, almost a signal to those "in the know."

This makes me so angry I can barely speak. Just IMAGINE the hue and cry that would go up from the people who created this whole movement if it were some left wingnuts who were circulating such a thing about President Bush. But have we heard any mainstream religious group mention it in the news?

Heck, even O'Reilly is talking about a revolution that will find Nancy Pelosi "bobbing in Boston Harbor." Apparently nobody is finding any problem at all publically envisioning physical harm -- or murder -- to people they don't like.

It just seems that though the threats against this president have escalated 400 times more than anything that the White House has seen before, yet all those pious religious leaders who speak out about traditional marriage and abortion doctors and "death panels," sit quietly and let the nutcases spout this sort of dangerous rhetoric. They are giving placid approval by their silence.

Now I don't think that any normal fundamentalist Christian is going to go out and start gunning for the president, but we know all too well what happens when fundamentalism gets taken over the top, and you know that there is another Timothy McVeigh or Sirhan Sirhan or Squeaky Fromme out there who are feeding on the messages of hate and lack of any public church denouncement of them. Sooner or later those people are going to be whipped up into a frenzy and we are going to see an actual assassination attempt (or worse) made on the president.

There was a classified ad placed in a Pennsylvania newspaper which prayed that Obama would follow in the footsteps of Lincoln, Garfield, McKinkey and Kennedy, all presidents who were assassinated.

There was the guy who attended the tea-bag rally carrying the sign about watering the tree of liberty, a reference to Thomas Jefferson's reminder that "the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants."

Frank Schaeffer, who, with his father helped shape the evangelical movement in the United States is mad as hell and he's not taking it silently. He was a guest on the Rachel Maddow show last night. His comments, which Maddow let go uninterrupted, are worth reading:

the situation that I find genuinely frightening right now is that you have a ramping up of biblical language—language from the antiabortion movement, for instance, death panels and this sort of thing. And what it‘s coalescing into is branding Obama as Hitler, as they‘ve already called him, as something foreign to our shores. We‘re reminded of that. He‘s born in Kenya—as brown, as black, above all, as not us. He is Sarah Palin‘s not a real American.

But now, it turns out, that he joins the ranks of the unjust kings of ancient Israel, unjust rulers, to which all these biblical illusions are directed who should be slaughtered, if not by God, then by just men.

So, there‘s a direct parallel here with Timothy McVeigh‘s t-shirt on the day of the Oklahoma City bombing in which he said that the tree of liberty had to be watered occasionally by the blood of tyrants. And that quote, we saw again at a meeting at which Obama was present being carried on a placard by someone carrying a loaded weapon.

What we‘re looking at right now is two things going on. We see the evangelical groups enthralled by an apocalyptic vision. They represent the millions of people who have turned the “Left Behind” series into best sellers. Most of them are not crazy, they‘re just deluded.

But there is a crazy fringe to whom all these little messages that have been pouring out of FOX News, now on a bumper sticker, talking about doing away with Obama, asking God to kill him.

Really, this is trolling for assassins. And this is serious business.

It‘s un-American. It‘s unpatriotic.

And it goes to show that the religious right, the Republican far right, have coalesced into a group that truly want American revolution. And if it turns out to be blood in the streets and death, so be it. This is not funny stuff anymore. They cannot be dismissed as just crazies on the fringe. It only takes one.

You know, look at “The Boston Globe” article a few weeks ago saying that the threat level faced by the Secret Service has gone up 400 percent, higher than any other time in 52 years for any president, Democrat or Republican. These are no jokes.

If you trace these origins back to this paranoid, evangelical group, of which me and my father, sadly, were not only leaders, but leaders in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the foot soldiers that people like Dick Armey and others are using now to push their political agenda onto health care, are also people that have within their ranks, people, such as the person who murdered Dr. Tiller and killed three police officers in Pittsburgh because they thought Obama would take away their guns.

This bumper sticker simply says to them: “It‘s open season.”

Schaeffer compares this to a Taliban call for jihad.

You know, they‘re always asking, “Where is the Islamic leadership denouncing terrorism? Why aren‘t the moderates speaking out?” Well, I challenge the folks who I used to work with, and I would just say to them, “Where the hell are you? This is not funny anymore. And be it on your head if something happens to our president, if you are going to go around supporting and not speaking out against this stuff.

It‘s just not a question of who‘s doing it. The bigger question is: where are the people speaking out against these things? I don‘t hear those voices raised in the evangelical fundamentalist community. And until I do, I—and my opinion is, they are culpable.

I don't know what I can do as one person, but I can shine a light on what is happening and register my voice not only in opposition to what is going on, but in disgust with the people who refuse to speak out.

---

While you're at it, check out this page on Amazon and register your outrage! (With any luck, when you click on the link, it will tell you that the page no longer exists!)

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen books I can see from where I'm sitting that I have been meaning to read, but haven't yet.

1. Scarpetta (Patricia Cornwell)
2. Trunk Music (Michael Connelly)
3. Middlesex (Jeffrey Eugenides)
4. Three books by Philippa Gregory Marta gave me
5. Daniel X (James Patterson)
6. Until I Find You (John Irving)
7. Voyager (Diana Gabaldon...but I have to finish "Dragonfly in Amber" first)
8. The Myth of You and Me (Leah Stewart)
9. Quentins (Maeve Binchy)
10. Blood and Fire (David Gerrold)
11. Chesapeake (James Michener)
12. Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister (Gregory Maguire)
13. The Year of Magical Thinking (Joan Didion)

2 Dog Night

When I woke up this morning, it was nice and warm in the house. The weather has been so cold this week that I've been closing the sliding glass door in the family room at night when we go to sleep, rather than leaving it open a bit for the puppies to go out through the night. It was nice not to get up shivering.

But then I came into my office and it was like walking into a refrigerator.

The dog door is cut in the wall here. It has served countless dogs over the past couple of decades, but some time ago, the frame got ripped off by some obstreperous dogs. This means that the magnet-type strip that keeps the plastic flap closed when not in use has long since ceased to work.

Normally, I don't notice it, but when the temperatures drop into the 30s overnight, when there is a slight breeze, and when the heat vent has never worked in this office, the rest of the house could be in the 80s and I'd still freeze. For the past few days, I can only really stand to be working in here for about an hour, then I have to go out and run my hands under warm water...or find something extra warm to wrap up in while I'm working.

I had never thought of asking Walt is he could fix the dog door. I've just lived with it and unless you are actually in this office, you probably don't notice how cold it can get.

This morning I finally asked him if, now that the set he was building was finished, he could either put in a new dog door or find a way to replace the flap that is in there now. Hopefully as we head into the colder winter temperatures, we can get it fixed and I won't freeze trying to work in here.

I had told Peach I would go to her house today to see about helping her get an Etsy site set up for the Crafty Cuzzins (horrendously complicated for bizarre reasons). We worked on it for a couple of hours and she fixed lunch for me. As I left, Bob was in the recliner with their two dogs.

I commented on how little and puny his dogs were!

When I got home, the house was very cold because during the day I do leave the back door open for the dogs. I tried getting some work done in my office, but it was just too bloody cold.

I finally realized that Bob had the right idea for how to beat the cold...only I had a much better solution than he did.

It's MUCH warmer when you're under 60 lbs of dog! (Yes, Walt weighed Higgins tonight and he is just about 30 lbs, Freddie isn't all that much lighter--and Dexter is a little over 5 lbs. Of course you can't get much done this way, but I sure wasn't cold any more!!!

Survey for the Bored

What is on your desktop wallpaper?

What is your favorite zoo animal?

The more I know about wild animals, the less I like zoos. I understand the need to preserve endangered species, and I understand that when zoos were first thought of, there was no television and very little chance of seeing any of these animals, but the last time I visited a zoo was in Chicago and I stood at the elephant enclosure (probably my favorite zoo animal) and felt like apologizing to the poor elephant. A couple of years later, all three of the elephants in that zoo died.

What was your favorite toy as a child?

I can't think of "a" toy that was my favorite. The things I remember loving most were Monopoly and books. And jigsaw puzzles.

What food do you eat too much of?

Anything in the bread family (plus any popular spread to put on it!). This also includes donuts, bagels, chocolate croissants, and other pastries.

What kind of hairstyle do you have?

The same hairstyle I've worn (apparently) all my life

What was your favorite activity in gym class?

I hated gym class and can't remember anything about it, except playing volleyball. But even that is a very, very dim memory (and I don't think I enjoyed it!)

What is on the shirt you are wearing right now?

I'm wearing two shirts (the layered look for cold nights!). The top sweatshirt is from my friend Olivia's business: Partridge Litigation Support. The t-shirt underneath is a new one that I got from that guy who is trying to ban divorce in California as a way to preserve the sanctity of marriage.

What is the picture nearest to you of?

It's a picture of Tom and David that I took when we went to visit Tom in San Luis Obispo. I love it...they both look so happy!

What kind of salad dressing do you like?

Ranch or Blue Cheese....or Raspberry Vinaigrette

What do you do on a Sunday night?

I hope there is no show to be reviewed so I can sit home and watch Amazing Race, Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters.

If you could only use one condiment on your food for the rest of your life, what would it be?

I'm not really a big condiment person, so if I had a large bottle of ketsup, that would probably last me the rest of my life and I would be very happy.

What color are your sheets?

Don't use sheets in the recliner or on the couch.

How big is your computer display?

Bigger than I used to have, not as big as I'd like, but just the right size to fit on this tiny desk (IOW, I'm not sure)

What pair of shoes do you wear most often?

In the summer, Birkenstocks; in the winter, loafers.

What is your favorite game?

65, of course!!! (I'm going into "65 withdrawal" since Cousins Day had to be canceled this month because of Peach's husband's accident!)

What is your favorite Thanksgiving food?

leftovers. A turkey and stuffing sandwich with cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie for breakfast. Yum.

What is your favorite pizza topping?

Sausage and mushroom.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow?

With any luck and puppy cooperation, 7. But it could be anywhere from 4 on.

The Four Show Weekend

I remember a time when I thought I was busy when I went to two shows a weekend and a time when I hated three show weekends. This is a four show weekend!

Thursday night I froze my buns off in the appropriately named Deathstar on the UCD campus. Some warm-blooded students had decided it would be just dandy to put on a production of Macbeth in a concrete arena where we had to sit on concrete steps too wide to use the step behind you as a backrest, in 40 degree weather, for three hours. As I wrote in my review, even Lawrence Olivier couldn't give a performance good enough to justify the discomfort!

Fortunately, it was a good production, with some weird things in it (the witches, or "weird sisters" redefined the word "weird," with jerky, spasmodic movements that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them, except that they spent a lot of time draped over each other and, given their flimsy garb, it may just have been for body heat!)

Saturday night it was opening night for the Davis Musical Theatre production of "Carousel." I bundled up for the cold night air getting to the theatre and by Act 2 the heat in the theatre was making it difficult for me to stay awake, but I'm glad that I did because it was a good show (and I was grateful not to have to be bundled in a quilt to enjoy it!)

The thing about these old chestnuts that we've known from our cradles, though, is that if you examine them under a microscope, they really do not send very good messages! We all remember Billy's soliloquy and ghost Billy watching his daughter dance on the beach and the stirring "You'll Never Walk Alone," but how many hone in on the fact that this show romanticizes spousal abuse? Billy hits wife Julie and later when he returns from the afterlife for one day, he hits daughter Laurie out of frustration. Somehow this gets turned into the incredulous question "have you ever had someone hit you and it didn't really hurt at all?" Julie Jordan, aka Mrs. Billy Bigelow, has just given a perfect example about why battered victims continue to put up with their partners' abuse!

what's the use of wond'ring
If he's good or if he's bad?
He's your feller and you love him,
That's all there is to that.

Saturday night I saw an amazing performance by Matt K. Miller, who plays 40 different characters in a one-man show called "Fully Committed." Very funny. Miller is the overworked appointment coordinator at a posh New York restaurant, trying to deal with the chef, the Maitre d', the hostess, and a co-worker, who claims to be waiting for someone to come and tow his car (when, in fact, he's on a job interview), as well as a collection of eccentric customers calling for reservations at the restaurant. Truly a tour de force for an actor, and Miller, who must lose a couple of pounds at each performance, is outstanding.

Walt missed out on all three of these shows since he was working his own show, "Amahl and the Night Visitors," put on by a brand new theatre group pieced together from lots of people who used to perform with the defunct Davis Comic Opera Co. Walt has been working on the set, and the show opened last night. Because of all the other shows I'm working, I won't get a chance to see this show at all, since it runs only the one weekend.

But Walt and I went together today to the fourth in my four-show weekend, my favorite show of any year, the Lamplighters annual Gala (the 44th--we were at the very first one and have been to almost all of them, skipping a few when the kids were babies).

This year's show was "Star Drek: The Generation After That." There was a "Star Drek" gala many years ago--I can't remember if I was still working on the Galas then or not, but I think not. Anyway, technology has come a long way, Baby, and this one was much more technologically impressive but still had all the funny things that Galas are known for, brilliantly blending Gilbert & Sullivan with well known Broadway musicals.

The crew of the Starship were, for example, Capt. James T. Quirk, Officer Mr. Schlock, Lieutenant Solo, Lt. Ihearya, and Nurse Beth L. Temple. with characters from "West Side Story," "Carousel," "The King and I," "Sweeney Todd," "Annie," "My Fair Lady," "Cabaret," "Cats," "Wicked," and "Guys & Dolls."

Lyric rewrites have become so much more sophisticated since I was working on them...and they now have supertitles, so you don't miss any of the cleverness.

We also discovered a hertofore little known talent of J. Geoffrey Colton, whom I have known forever. Who knew he could tap dance (kinda sort almost)?

Following the show there was the traditional champagne reception, in the reception hall of Herbst Theatre, overlooking the San Francisco City Hall.

We had dinner at California Pizza Kitchen with a couple of friends from the company and then headed home, meeting some very hungry puppies who had been waiting for about 4 hours for their dinner.

So my four show weekend has come to and end and next weekend there will be only two shows, but both of them will be in New York City.

And Then There Were Two

Well, three, if you count Dexter.

Yes, Eliza got adopted today. I'm thrilled.

When I went up to Petco to pick the puppies up, I was very disheartened to see that all four were still in the pen. I had hoped to see SOMEONE finally being adopted. I also couldn't understand why Freddie, whose portrait on Petfinder, is the cutest of the three...

...hadn't had any inquiries at all.

I went off to do some shopping (really, just an excuse to listen to my audio book, which is only 3 hours from being finished!) and then came home to pick up the puppies. As I said, they were all still in the cage.

I sighed and got Higgins by the leash and started to leave when Ashley stopped me and asked me to wait a bit. She said a couple was trying to decide between Higgins and Eliza. So I sat there for about half an hour, having some of Ashley's birthday cake, and finally the decision had been made: Eliza.

I went to say goodbye to Eliza and meet her new family and it was the couple I had met with last week, who expressed an interest in both Eliza and Higgins. Eliza was snuggled comfortably in the woman's lap, looking like she had made the switch already, though I wonder how she's going to feel at bedtime tonight!

So I packed the other three up in the car and brought them home again. One of their siblings also got adopted today, so slowly but surely all twelve puppies are finding homes. Maybe next week we'll be lucky again. I want to be sure to get Higgins adopted before I have to saddle him in order to control him!

Random Thoughts for the Day

1. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5. I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page research paper that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this -- ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voicemail. What'd you do after I didn't answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. My 4-year old son asked me in the car the other day "Dad what would happen if you ran over a ninja?" How the hell do I respond to that?
19. I think the freezer deserves a light as well..
20. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.

The Weaning Process

Though I had nursed Jeri, Ned and Paul, I never actually had to deal with weaning until Tom came along.

I had gone to La Leche League classes when Jeri was expected and had all these wonderful images in my mind of letting her wean, continuing to let her nurse well into her second year. But she was always the independent sort and decided on her own at 9 months of age that it was time to graduate to milk in a cup. I knew all the theory about how to gently wean a baby when Mom was read to stop nursing. I hadn't read anything about how to wean Mom when baby is ready to move on to the next step!

When Ned came along, I hoped he would nurse longer, and he did. But I still wasn't ready for him to decide to quit nursing on his first birthday. I had now gone through two pregnancies talking with mothers about the fun of nursing a toddler, but I seemed doomed to have toddlers who were determined not to cooperate.

Along came Paul and it was a repeat of Ned. Within a week of his first birthday, he, too, gave up nursing.

Nursing Tom was different. I don't know why, but it was. Perhaps it was because he was the first one who showed no sign of wanting to stop nursing when he turned one, and for the first time I had my own stories of nursing a toddler, as he grew older...the little all-boy boy who would run in, football under his arm, dirt on his face, and jump up to nurse for a couple of minutes before running outside again. The little kid who would sit up in my lap, fold his hands, close his eyes and say "God is great, God is good, let us bless us for this food. Today we're gonna have....nurse!"

Since David is dead and not likely to be following blogs from the other side, I can confess that I was very upset when I realized I was pregnant with him. We had four kids under five. I was already stretched to my emotional limits and the last thing I wanted was another baby. I remember the day I knew for certain I was pregnant and I sat down and cried.

One of the big reasons I was so upset was that I was having such a wonderful relationship with Tom and I just didn't want that to end. I made the decision to let Tom be the decider of when to stop nursing--and if he decided to nurse all the way through the pregnancy, La Leche League had lots of stories of "tandem nursing," where the older child continues to nurse after the younger one is born. It was a decision that to this day I regret.

Tom did nurse all the way through the pregnancy and when David came, he began nursing like a newborn so much so that he started having newborn-type diapers again. We never had the lovely nursing sessions that people talked about, where the older and the younger child would hold hands, smile, laugh, and enjoy the moment together. From the time David was old enough to realize that he had to share with Tom it was a constant battle, so much so that I had to start nursing them separately in order to keep peace (which, combined with the fact that I was also collecting breastmilk to donate to a sick baby in Kaiser hospital, meant I was pretty much nursing most of the day!).

I loved David on one level, but I still resented his just being here. In fact, I still remember the day when he was about six months old, playing in the "Johnny Jump-up" and being particularly adorable when I looked at him and realized that I really loved him. Really really loved him, not the sort of "I have to because he's my baby" sort of love.

But the older the kids got the more difficult it became because Tom would decide in the middle of the supermarket that he wanted to nurse NOW and throw horrible tantrums if I didn't open up right away. Even today people are uncomfortable seeing a woman nursing a tiny baby in public--the idea of nursing a toddler is something far too many find disgusting.

It changed things. I had to wean Tom and it was hard on both of us. To this day, I think it changed our relationship and it makes me very sad whenever I think of it.

The reason I'm thinking about weaning today is that I've been watching the puppies and thinking about how mother dogs wean their young and how they start acting almost mean to them as they continue to want to be around her all the time.

That's how I'm starting to feel about these guys, who must be on me whenever I am anywhere in a seated position and God forbid I should get into the recliner, when all four have to be on top of me. I'm not sure how much the puppies weigh--they have outgrown my baby scale--but surely their combined weight must be >40 lbs.

I find myself avoiding them these days, staying in my office, strictly to avoid being around them (even though it is always so much colder in here in the wintertime because of the dog door). I'm trying very hard to wean them, but only getting their own family is going to really wean them. But this Mama Dog is really, really ready for her babies to grow up and move away!!!

Hypocrites

According to an article in The Washington Post,

The Catholic Archdiocese of Washington said Wednesday that it will be unable to continue the social service programs it runs for the District if the city doesn't change a proposed same-sex marriage law, a threat that could affect tens of thousands of people the church helps with adoption, homelessness and health care.

These are the same guys who protected pedophile priests and transferred ownership of some properties in some dioceses to the Vatican to prevent the accused dioceses from having any financial holdings that victims of pedophile priests could sue for, right?

Those guys. The guys who established recovery centers for priests caught in pedophilia where they could be hidden away, treated, and then sent back out to work with children again, right?

Those guys.

Now if the District of Columbia extends equality to loving American citizens, the Catholic church will stop feeding homeless men, women and children. Maybe they could hold their breaths and stomp their feet as they turn blue too.

It's too bad you can't see the smoke pouring out my ears as I write this.

Council Member Mary Cheh called the action "childish" and asks "Are they really going to harm people because they have a philosophical disagreement with us on one issue? I hope, in the silver light of day, when this passes, because it will pass, they will not really act on this threat."

Cheh may be more optimistic than I am about the church's rigidity on this issue.

(But I'll betcha that there are still pedophile priests who have not yet been caught by the local authorities, who are out there working with kids...)

Just yesterday I read that the Vatican has taken a stance on gay tourism. Apparently it considers that when gay people visit a Catholic church, it is a form of "building abuse," according to Bishop Janusz Kaleta of the Holy See (the central government of the Catholic Church)

The church teachings are from the Bible. If we change this teaching, we will not be the Catholic Church. Don’t expect the Catholic church to change these issues, because it is our identity. I consider if someone is homosexual, it is abuse of our buildings and our religion. If you have different ideas, go to a different location.

(Child abuse = OK if you don't get caught; building abuse = Not OK)

So gay people should cross Rome off of their travel destinations because you will not be welcome in St. Peter's Basilica or any of the historic churches in that city -- or any other city, for that matter.

I wonder just how closely the good Bishop reads the Bible he is so fond of spouting.

I always loved the speech that President Jed Bartlet gave to the Dr. Laura-like character on The West Wing. It was based on a "Letter to Dr. Laura" that made the rounds of the internet some time ago and continues to pop up whenever someone new stumbles across it. Among the questions Bartlet asked the Dr. Laura-like character were the following:

I wanted to sell my youngest daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. She’s a Georgetown Sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?

While thinking about that, can I ask another? My chief of staff, Leo McGary, insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly says he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself? Or is it okay to call the police?

Here’s one that’s really important, because we’ve got a lot of sports fans in this town. Touching the skin of a dead pig makes one unclean. Leviticus 11:7. If they promise to wear gloves, can the Washington Redskins still play football? Can Notre Dame? Can West Point?

Does the whole town really have to be together to stone my brother John for planting different crops side by side?

Can I burn my mother in a small family gathering for wearing garments made from two different threads? Think about those questions, would you?

It would be nice of the good Bishop would think about those questions too, before suggesting that it would be an abomination to allow gay people to visit Catholic churches.

It would also be nice for the archdiocese of the District of Columbia to think about those questions before it stops feeding hungry children because the government decided to grant equality to all people, not just to some people.

In situations like these, what do you really think Jesus would do? Take bread out of the mouths of hungry children to make a political statement? I don't think so.

Autumn Leaves

I picked up these leaves in front of the hall where Peach and Kathy's craft show was held on Sunday.

We are well and truly into fall at the moment, Walt will attest, having raked up a ton of leaves from our one tree in the front yard yesterday.

Every year at this time I look hopefully at the tree in our back yard and, once again sigh in disappointment.

I love fall color, but we don't really get the riotous displays of color that people in other parts of the country do. Growing up in San Francisco, I was barely aware of changing seasons from looking at shrubbery. It wasn't until I moved to Berkeley that I realized that trees really looked different at different times of the year!

I remember the very first time I encountered true "fall color." I had gone to Brattleboro, Vermont in October for a meeting and everywhere I turned I was hit with a color palette that would have impressed even Vincent Van Gogh.

It was October of 1999 before I got a full dose of fall color again. It was a year we were all in need of something to lift our spirits. Walt, my mother and I flew to Boston to visit Jeri and to take a drive up into Cape Cod to see the fall color. It was worth it, and yes, it lifted our spirits!

When we were deciding on the kinds of things we wanted to plant in our back yard, I was determined to have fall color. Chinese Pistachio trees are all the rage around here and at this time "raging" is what they are doing. They turn bright yellow, brilliant red, flaming orange, often on the same tree. They line some streets in our area and it takes my breath away whenever I happen to come across a street of Pistachio trees in full bloom.

So when it came time to plant a tree for color in our back yard there was no question but what it would be a Chinese pistachio tree. I eagerly awaited the first fall and was disappointed when the leaves went from green to the ground without any noticeable change of color along the way. I figured it was just a baby and surely by the time it became an adult it would burst into color. Year after year, I hope that it will join its brother or sister trees in a glorious fall display of color, but it just sits there, drab and colorless until all the leaves fall to the ground.

Why does my tree hate me?

A Davis Pistachio. Not Ours.

Thursday Thirteen

I see a lot of theatre. Here are thirteen of my favorite stage shows, in no particular order, and by no means all of my favorites.

1. Wicked
2. Les Miserables
3. Noises Off
4. The Music Man
5. 1776
6. La Cage aux Folles
7. Death of a Salesman
8. The Last Session
9. The Big Voice: God or Merman
10. Iolanthe
11. The Secret Garden
12. The Laramie Project
13. The Mikado

Crafty Cousins

The Krafty Cuzzins have now become the Crafty Cuzzins. More visually alliterative.

Today was scheduled to be Cousins Day, but Peach's husband slashed his right hand open the other day (he's right handed) while helping them get ready for the craft show and has 12 stitches. Peach really didn't want to go off and leave him alone.

Instead the three of us got together at Peach's house, where we started working on a web site for The Crafty Cuzzins. In the wake of the disappointing results of the craft fair, they have lots of inventory to sell and are eager to get into making more and hope to get a following. I also suggested that they make a video where they could show how to put the baskets together, for those who can't quite visualize it.

When I first arrived, Kathy's daughter Karen was there with 4 month old Brandon. I got a little wistful watching Grandma playing with her grandson, realizing that Bri is now a toddler and how distance prevented me from having this kind of playtime with her when she was this age.

They grow up so fast. It sucks to live so far away.

We spent a lot of time admiring Brandon, who laughed and chuckled and enjoyed being tossed around. 3-4 months is my very favorite baby age, and I think we missed it entirely in Bri's life because we didn't manage to get down to Santa Barbara.

Peach and Bob's two dogs were particularly interested in this strange little alien.

Anyway, after Karen and Brandon left, we got to work on the web site and on making a video where Peach and Kathy demonstrate how the baskets go together.

The Crafty Cuzzins from Bev Sykes on Vimeo.

The web site is under construction, but the shell of it is visible at http://craftycuzzins.com. I will be working on adding things to it over the coming week, but take a look and give me feedback.

I'm trying to decide right now if they need PayPal or not, or if people can simply send them an e-mail to order and pay by check, while they are trying to decide if they will have enough business to justify taking it to the next level.

Right now they are just selling the bread baskets (and now they can make matching napkin-shaped baskets too) and acrylic coasters that they made. Soon they'll be adding this cool little basket that they are in the process of making.

This is a small bowl, but will be part of a set of (3?) nesting bowls, probably not available before Christmas (but what do I know--I don't even sew buttons!)

Anyway, whether the web site is actually FINISHED or not, the shop is now open and if anybody is interested in buying any of the baskets, as some said they might be, feel free to write to Peach and place an order. There are lots available for immediate sale!

PS--I Love You

Ben Willmore is homeless.

Well...not exactly homeless, but three years ago he bought a 40 foot touring bus bus, sold 95% of his household possessions and bought camera gear, and started traveling around the country, taking great photos, editing them with PhotoShop, and teaching classes in PhotoShop.

In his time (thus far) he has taught over 80,000 Photoshop users, authored numerous award-winning books and was inducted into the PhotoShop Hall of Fame.

Today he gave a seminar at the Sacramento Community Center ... and I was there.

Actually, this was the second of Willmore's seminars that I've attended, and my third seminar hosted by NAPP (The National Association of Photoshop Professionals). His seminar three years ago was my first. I remember feeling so jazzed when it was over. He spent an awful lot of time working on "curves," a function of PhotoShop that up to that point I had never understood.

I went home from that seminar understanding Curves for the very first time. Ben made it so easy I couldn't understand why I hadn't seen it before. Then I sat down at my computer and tried putting what I thought I had learned into practice and was right back at square one...but I have since worked with it and while I still don't understand Curves, at least I know better what I'm trying to do!

I really enjoyed last year's seminar too, though it wasn't designed for what I wanted to do with PhotoShop. It was given by a PS artist, who creates photos from scratch using PS. Spectacular pictures with amazing effects all created in PS. I learned a lot from him, finally joined NAPP and looked forward to my whopping discount for this year's seminar, as a NAPP member.

When I saw that this year's seminar was going to focus on photographers rather than artists, I was thrilled and signed right up. Today was the day. As I have in all the other seminars, I came awayso jazzed about everything. I want to go out and do light painting.

There were several things that went on today that made it all worthwhile. For one thing, I was amazed at how much I already knew. There were several techniques that he taught that made people in the audience gasp and go "oooooo" collectively...and I realized that I'd been doing those things for a long time.

But there were other little tricks that he showed that solved two of my biggest frustrations with PhotoShop....if they will work for me when I try them.

I missed Peggy so much today. One of the best things about being with her was that we were both learning PhotoShop and excited about all the new things we'd learned. It was she who taught me about the "healing brush" tool, which significantly changed my work on almost every photo I take in PhotoShop. I wanted to be able to turn to her today and say "did you see THAT?" and have us rush off to our own computers to try out all the new stuff.

But she's not here, and there is nobody I know who is excited about PhotoShop, so I'll just take my workshop book and see if I can remember all the good stuff I learned in the seminar today.

As I believe I posted to Facebook at least three times today--I just love all this stuff!

Pigs and Primadonnas

Not that I needed one, but I think I have developed an eating machine. It has 12 legs, 3 mouths and is focused 100% of the time on food.

It's no wonder these puppies have grown so big. They will eat anything and everything and are constantly on the hunt for More Food. They have turned this house into a canine version of Little Shop of Horrors.

This makes feeding the primadonas in the family very difficult.

I guess maybe it's the return from daylight saving time to to normal time, but the puppies are demanding to be fed somewhere between 4 and 5 a.m. these days. I think if there were only ONE of them this would not be the case but they feed (pun intended) off each other's demands. One wakes up, perhaps thinks "Feed Me," and comes to find me. If I'm lucky, I will be blissfully asleep. Puppy will whine and perhaps paw at my leg. I will ignore him. BUT, the noise and the activity will wake the other two, so rather than be discouraged and go back to sleep, now I have THREE puppies jumping and pawing on me until all hope of staying asleep is gone and I get up to feed them.

Now here is the problem. I feed them and they dive into the bowl (knocking half the food on the floor as I try to get it to the floor because they haven't eaten in like three hours and are about to die on the spot this very minute if they don't get fed), inhale whatever I've given them, and are finally happy and may actually go back to sleep. But it's 4 a.m. Dexter, who used to eat breakfast with the bigger pups, kind of looks up bleary eyed and says "you've gotta be kidding me. It's the middle of the night!" and, sensibly, goes back to sleep. Sheila and Lizzie, who are in the other room don't even bother to wake up because it's like, you know, FOUR FRICKIN' A.M.!

But peace is momentarily restored. Puppies have full tummies and are happy. And sleepy. And except for the fact that they all want to sleep on me, we are all happy and go back to sleep, except me, because by this time I have one puppy on my face, one with his butt end aimed at my face, and one clawing my legs trying to figure out how to climb into the chair to get with the other three who are already there.

But that's OK because it's cold in the morning and at least I am warm, if not able to sleep and we all finally settle in usually until Walt comes downstairs.

Now Walt, being up in a bed behind a closed door AND a gate that keeps the dogs off the steps, has had a nice night of sleep and by the time he comes downstairs there is actually light in the sky and this is a good thing.

All the dogs run to the stairs and he sits down and greets them one by one. Sheila and Lizzie yawn and stretch and get their morning skritches and then go outside to do their morning business and then they look at me and say "OK. Where's my breakfast?"

By this time Dexter, too, has come awake and, not having had any food when the other puppies ate, is ready for breakfast too.

Lizzie has always been the worst dog to feed, but when there are no puppies here, it's OK. Lizzie would do well with feeding on demand, always having food available that she can snack at throughout the day, because she leaps and leaps and leaps and comes to get me if she's hungry, standing behind my office chair and putting her paws on my shoulders. "Hey, remember me? It's time to FEED ME." She does an impatient little dance while she's waiting for the food, but you put it in her bowl and apparently she didn't want to actually EAT it, she just wanted to LOOK at it for awhile. You'd think I'd arranged it decoratively and put a sprig of parsley in the bowl for her to admire.

But of course, the 4 a.m. puppies are now awake again and ready to attack anything that smacks of FOOD so they dive into the bowl while Lizzie stands by and watches, in disbelief, as her breakfast disappears. You'd think that by now she'd know that was going to happen, but it seems to surprise her every morning. I try to wrest the bowl away from the puppies while there is still food in it, hoping to sneak it to her when they are busy elsewhere.

In the meantime, Sheila, the only really nice dog around here these days is very patiently waiting for HER food in the other room. I take a scoop full of food and pour it in her bowl and Dexter, who has been aced out of Lizzie's bowl by the other puppies, tries to sneak in a bite of Sheila's.

Sheila is a lovely dog and a wonderful dog, but nothing comes between her and her food, so she growls her loud, scary "I'm not kidding...get out of here, kid" growl at Dexter, who thinks that he is about to have his head bitten off and runs screaming and trembling and won't stop screaming until I pick him up and comfort him.

(I'm now thinking that Sheila may have done
a bit more than just growl at Dexter)

So now I have three dogs who have had two breakfasts and two dogs who have had NO breakfast. If I put Dexter in the playpen, as I used to do, with food that he can have without interference from the other dogs, he feels he's being punished and he cries to get out and completely ignores the food. I'm not nearly as concerned about Lizzie who could stand to lose a few pounds and I figure if she doesn't eat this morning she'll eat tonight, when I feed all six together.

And the puppies have now had too much food to eat, but it's like trying to herd sheep to get them away from Lizzie's bowl. They are getting much too strong, especially when working as one body.

The only good thing about their voracious appetites is that they will do anything for peanutbutter, so the pills that they are taking this week go down without any problem at all, deeply imbedded in peanut butter. Give them a glop of peanut butter and they think they've died and gone to heaven--and then spend the next five minutes licking each other's mouths to make sure they get every single bit of peanut butter they can.

I love these dogs, in an "I hate you this morning" kind of way (let's not even talk about last night!). But it's definitely time for the puppies to have their own homes.

Pigs and Primadonnas from Bev Sykes on Vimeo.

Krafty Cuzzins

In a way I kind of feel a little bit guilty,but it's not really my fault. Honest!

Some time ago, Peach and Kathy, the creative wing of Cousins Day, decided to pool their talents and go into the craft business. They both cross stitch beautifully and had some really beautiful projects they wanted to work on that they thought would sell well at a craft fair and make them some money for Christmas. They started a business called Krafty Cuzzins.

Every time we went to Cousins Day, Kathy would drive to and from my mother's and Peach would sit in the back doing her cross stitch.

Then Jeri and I went to Europe.

I had a great time shopping for gifts in France and one of the things I brought back from Arles was a bread basket for my mother. I wrote about this before.

You can see it up there in the right hand corner. The thing lies flat for storage but when you tie up the four corners, you have this great little bread basket. Kathy leaped on that thing and decided she could figure out how to make it and that it would be a great craft project, since she was getting burned out on cross-stitch.

At our next Cousins Day, she had a prototype to show us. She was so excited about how they were coming out and how much she was enjoying making them.

She was particularly excited about it because every time she showed a basket to someone, they liked it so much they bought it and she was afraid she wouldn't have enough time to make the 50 baskets she wanted to make in time for the craft show.

We got all carried away talking about their use beyond just a bread basket. We thought of making up a gift basket for a baby shower present, filling it with powder, rolled diapers, pacifier, rattle and anything else that you would give a prospective mother. Or a sewing basket, a place to keep all your sewing supplies. A nice basket to store your Christmas cards in. We talked about marketing it for the RV-er, since it folds flat so there is no storage problem, and it's both reversible and washable. The uses seemed endless.

I remember that when I talked about the baskets here on my journal back in September I had at least two people write and ask me for information about how they could order a basket.

And so today was the day of the craft fair. Peach and Kathy, and Peach's daughter, had managed to make fifty baskets for the fair. They also had made some very nice framed cross stitch pieces, some coasters, some pepper jelly, some bread-n-butter pickles, and a little book-type thing that you can keep earrings in when you're traveling. And the fifty baskets.

I found them easily enough in the crowd.

As small craft fairs go, it seemed to be a well attended one, though I am no expert in these things. There were lots and lots of tables set up. Peach and Kathy were next to a lady selling blankets, which seemed to be just big pieces of cloth with pieces of fringe cut into it. But she seemed to be selling some because some of the patterns on the cloth were very cute.

The fair started at 9 a.m. and I got there between 9:30 and 10. Peach and Kathy hadn't sold a thing. In fact, hardly anybody had even LOOKED at the display. By the time I left they had dropped the price of the baskets and one woman had bought one. I had bought three of the other things on display, and so by noon, when I left, they had made a grand total of four sales. They were very discouraged....and they had a huge box of bread baskets left over. I don't know if there was a big influx of customers between noon and 2, when it ended, but what they had sold by the time I left would not cover the cost of having a table at the craft fair (to say nothing of the investment in materials and labor making the things!)

It's a shame because they are really high quality baskets, and while I sat there several people seemed to like them. I know for a fact you can buy them at Williams-Sonoma, and they cost more than what Peach and Kathy are selling them for.

So the next step is that I'm going to design a web page for them, including a video on how to put them together and showing possible uses for the basket. We'll get that up, as well as establish a site on Etsy to see if maybe they can get some customers there too.

This all sounded like such a perfect project in September and it's disappointing that it is looking like such a dud in November.

Only 10 Days Left Til Christmas

No, don't go running to your calendars and don't think I've finally gone off the deep end, but if you want to participate in what seems to be a nice program to help make a good Christmas for kids who might not otherwise have a good Christmas, you only have 10 days left. Let me explain, and then at the end of this entry, I want to talk about my guilty feelings about this and about Compassion International.

There are lots of ways to give to underprivileged kids at Holiday time, but I kind of liked this organization that you may have heard of. It's called Samaritan's Purse and the idea is that you fill a shoe box with goodies for children for Christmas. You wrap the box and take it to a drop-off site and it is combined with all the other boxes and they are shipped to children around the world.

This morning I went to give blood (successfully, this time...yay!), then had my hair cut, and then went to the Dollar Store to see how much bang I could get for my bucks. (Ironically I saw my "real" hairdresser down an aisle, and tried to hide so he couldn't see that I had obviously just had my hair cut!)

I had four piles of things in my basket -- one for me (just a pair of Christmas socks, since I don't think I have any to wear this year), one for the Compassion kids (coloring book, stickers, and a puzzle), and then a stack for a young boy and one for a young girl.

You really can get a lot for a little amount of money. I bought coloring books, crayons (64 pack, not that cheap 8 pack!), Christmas pencils, warm gloves, kid-patterned tooth brushes, brightly colored bandaids, bubble soap, kazoos, and Christmas candy for both boxes. Then I got a little car, ball, and Spiderman digital watch for the boy and a little stuffed puppy (of course), and headbands for a little girl. I will add more things after I fill a shoebox and see how much room is left over.

I wanted to do this last year, but by the time I found out about it, it was too late.

This is, of course, a non-denominational Christian group which is running this program, as is the group which runs Compassion International.

I got my second letter from Fred, in the Philippines, yesterday and I must admit to feeling some guilt about the whole "Christian" thing. One thing that is stressed over and over again is how important our sponsorship is in the Christian development of our sponsored children and we are always encouraged to pray for our kids and to encourage them to go to church.

Well, my problem is that I believe there is a supreme being, who may be God or may be Allah or may be Buddha or may be Mork from Ork (or is more probably "S/he who has no name" because I also believe that s/he has no gender either!)

I believe there is more to existence than this one life and I believe there is an afterlife. I have to hang onto that because I'm determined to ground Dave and Paul for all eternity for being so stupid (tho s/he who has no name may have already taken care of some sort of "Stupidity Consequence" by now).

But the last time I actually prayed was after Gilbert died. I took his relatives to lunch in Chinatown, dropped them off at the restaurant, parked across the street from my favorite Catholic church in San Francisco and stopped in to say a prayer for him. I don't think I've officially prayed since, though I may have said words in unison with other people when the time was appropriate.

I feel I am a spiritual person, but I've had such problems with organized religions -- lots of them. So I don't go to church, and I don't create an alternate church-like "thing" that I do on a regular or irregular basis to ritualize any sort of worship of a higher power. I just try to live a good life, do what I can when I can do it, and hope that this is the plan that I'm supposed to be following.

But I do feel like I'm kind of an in-the-closet non-Christian. It's not that I'm a non-Christian. I think there are lots of wonderful people who are Christians, just as there are lots of wonderful Jews and Muslims and atheists, etc. I believe that Jesus lived and died, whether he was actually "god" or simply "god's messenger." I just have not, to use the proper terminology "taken Jesus Christ into my heart as my Lord and Savior." That doesn't mean I haven't unofficially done so. It's just that I haven't had that religious transformation that so many speak about.

But I admire what these missionaries are doing for children in need and I think that they probably need my money more than they need my piety....and you don't see a lot of non church types out there running schools for poor children.

But it makes it feel awkward to speak in "tongues" (as it were) and to answer Fred's mother's question, which was "How's your life for being Christian. What year you've been a Christian?"

I think I'm going to tell her that I was born into a religious family and learned about Jesus in school. And then I'll send Fred a sheet of stickers that I found at the Dollar Store today, which are designed for religion school kids. Think that will work without actually lying about anything?

What Constitutes a "Man"?

On the heels of my "things to be depressed about" entry, I got a note from Peggy yesterday alerting her friends to a very depressing situation in Denmark.

The waters here aren't red from any bizarre climate change or overabundance of marine life that is feeding along the shores. This is the result of human cruelty. I suppose the Danes would not classify it as cruelty, but they slaughter hundreds of the "famous and intelligent" Calderon dolphins.

Apparently this takes place in the Feroe Islands and the main participants in the slaughter are teens. Why? As a right of passage into manhood.

It becomes a big spectator sport.

Quoting from the e-mail, "Is it necessary to mention that the dolphin calderon, like all the other species of dolphins, is near instinction and they get near men to play and interact. In a way of PURE friendship."

"They don’t die instantly; they are cut 1, 2 or 3 times with thick hocks. And at that time the dolphins produce a sound similar to the cry of a new born child."

While I understand (while not exactly condone) a slaughter in order to feed or clothe a family, I don't find anything honorable about mass killings just to prove manhood. If you are as appalled about this situation as I am, there is a web site where you can go to register your outrage.

Psychic Woman

I've mentioned before that over on Flickr, I've been doing this "take a photo a day" project, which I'm now continuing into year 3. After 2+ years of taking your own photo every day, you are desperate for new ideas. In September I discovered that there are actually holidays to be celebrated in this country every single day of the year. Wonderful holidays like National Step in a Puddle and Splash Your Friend Day (January 11), National Garlic Day (April 19), Wiggle Your Toes Day (August 6), etc. It's wonderful reading.

So I've been using my daily photograph to celebrate that day's holiday. Many of them have been fun to work on, with the help of PhotoShop, like this one for "World Smile Day" (October 3)

A couple of days ago was "Increase Your Psychic Powers" Day and I did my best to represent that.

It was the next night when I had the dream I talked about yesterday, which began with my being so depressed that I drove off the road and into a body of water. This morning I'm thinking that maybe I actually did increase my psychic powers, 'cause I sure am depressed this morning.

Maine joins the host of other states where gay marriage has lost by only a few percentage points. How would you like to have only 5% of the population of your state decide whether you can be married or not? Think it can't happen to a nice heterosexual couple like you? How about that judge who decided that he shouldn't marry an interracial couple. Who is next? Maybe some day they'll decide that since the bible refers to left-haned people as "evil," only right-handed people should marry...and my nearly 45 years with Walt will be dissolved. Civil rights should not be up for a vote, or be decided at the whim of someone else.

(Someone is collecting signatures to get a petition on the ballot to outlaw divorce in California. Let's see how serious those right wingers really are about preserving the sanctity of marriage!!)

I'm not listening to the news today. It's all too depressing. I'm one of those who had the audacity to hope and I haven't given up hope yet that Obama can be viewed by history as one of the great presidents, if he manages to follow through on his promises. But we live in an instant gratification society and everyone expected him to "fix everything" overnight. ("it's been a whole week since the inauguration and he hasn't done anything yet!") Remember the Patriot Act? And how aghast we were to discover that this sweeping intrusion into our cherished freedoms was passed without anybody having the opportunity to read it? It is my fervent hope that the slowness with which Obama seems to be doing everything comes from his wanting to get it right. I continue to hope, but talking heads make it difficult.

Then I watched Al Gore on Letterman last night and heard about the continuing erosion of our earth, the probable irreversible death of coral, the animals species which are on the brink of extinction, the island of garbage twice the size of Texas floating in the Pacific ocean, the sinking of the entire country of Bangladesh, and most of humankind's indifference to it all.

One of my blogging students from the other night has started a blog about the conditions in Congo right now. Reading that is also enough to make you depressed. I have friends from Congo who have family there now.

This morning I listened to NBC's financial expert talking about the astronomical rise in interest rates and annual fees that banks have decided to charge and how we are essentially helpless to do anything. Call the banks and protest, but if they ask you for information, don't give any or it can be used against you. Don't start a new charge account because it can show up as a negative on your credit report. Don't stop using credit cards because that can show up as a negative on your credit report. It's the ultimate Catch 22 situation.

No good news ever comes out of the Middle East.

Sometimes it just seems like there is nothing good to live for...and maybe that drive out into the wilderness and into the body of water was prophetic.

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen of my least favorite things to do

1. Exercise
2. Diet
3. Iron
4. Clean the bathroom
5. Have a nerve conduction study
6. Have a colonoscopy
7. Have a mammogram
8. Get root canal
9. Get junk mail or junk e-mail
10. Buy new shoes
11. Cook dinner every night
12. Sit through committee meetings
13. Garden

Tell the Chinese Guy I'm Sorry

I have said for years that one of my big disappointments is that I don't dream. My sleeping habits have been so poor for so long that I know that either I don't get deeply enough asleep to dream, or I don't remember my dreams. In any event, I have always felt that I was missing out on some fun stuff.

Last night I woke up at 2 a.m. This wasn't the dogs' fault this time, it was the fault of my bladder. I fully expected to go right back to sleep, as I did the night before, but I didn't. The dogs were very cooperative and no problem at all, but I just simply could not go back to sleep.

I tried watching a movie that I knew well, figuring I would doze off, but I didn't. I finally got up at 5 a.m. and did some stuff on the computer for awhile, but around 5:30 was feeling sleepy, so I decided to try getting a little sleep again.

Walt came downstairs around 6:30 and the noise of the dogs greeting him woke me up, so my dream took place within an hour and it is so crystal clear in my mind (and since I so rarely dream!), I decided to share it.

I was depressed and decided to go for a drive. I was driving a car along a path that got more and more narrow until it finally abruptly disappeared and the car rolled off and into water. The car was immersed and I had two things that I needed to do--I had to get Ned (who somehow was strapped in the back seat) and my purse (with my camera in it) out quickly. I managed to get out of the car and dove down under the water to unstrap Ned and get him out, and I grabbed my purse and tossed it up on a rock nearby (miraculously it was still dry inside). The car and I were stuck in the water when a Chinese guy came down to the edge, very angry with me because apparently the water was in the middle of his restaurant and he kept telling me that I had to get out because I was on private property. I kept trying to explain that I had had an auto accident but he just yelled that he didn't care, I was on his private property and I needed to get out.

I was standing in the water and checked my cell phone and discovered that it still worked, but the SIM card had been erased, so I had lost all the information stored in it, and couldn't call AAA to come and get the car out of the water. The Chinese guy continued to yell at me as customers arrived at the restaurant.

I finally did manage to get hold of AAA, but the call was dropped before I could give them my location.

Somehow I was now inside the restaurant. The Psychiatrist and his wife arrived and I was chatting with them while they were waiting to be seated and telling them about a birthday party that we want his bluegrass group to play for.

I was still trying to get back to AAA when I realized that the nubby rubber cover to my cell phone was broken and so I was also trying to find a new cover for the phone and trying to call the number of the company, which was printed on the rubber cover itself.

Somehow I wandered to the house next door to the restaurant and rang the doorbell. Apparently Jon Voigt lived there. When he didn't answer the door, I wandered in as if we were long time friends and plopped down on the couch and asked if I could use his telephone book to look up the number of AAA. He started coming on to me, which made me very angry so I got up and left to return to the restaurant.

I went in the back door and through the kitchen and then wandered through the restaurant looking for The Psychiatrist to continue our conversation. I realized that one room was full of only gay men and the other room was full of heterosexual couples and thought it odd that they divided the restaurant into gay and straight.

I think that was about when I heard Walt coming downstairs. As far as I know the car is still stuck in the water outside the restaurant and the Chinese guy is still angry with me! And I don't have a clue what happened to Ned. Or Jon Voigt either, for that matter.

Old Friends, Hairy and Otherwise, Return

Two days ago, I optimistically reported that I thought that Higgins' "test placement" must be going very well, since I had heard nothing from the woman who took him.

Well. I spoke too soon.

I had a call from her over the weekend, saying that after a week, her dog still was not bonding with Higgins, that the dog still barked whenever Higgins got near. She herself loved Higgins and had even taken him to work with her, where he behaved very well, but her husband was now thinking he didn't really want a second dog, so she was going to be bringing him back.

We made arrangements to have her drop him off in the late afternoon because we had plans in the middle of the day.

Walt's old college buddy, Jim and his wife Ann were going to be driving through town on their way from Lake Tahoe to San Francisco, where they would be flying back to Maryland and had called to ask if we wanted to meet for brunch.

We had a delightful visit over pasta at Caffe Italia here in Davis, where we occupied a booth for about 2 hours, while patrons came and went and the wait staff climbed all over us taking down Halloween decorations.

We guessed that had been about ten years since Walt and Joe had seen each other (though I saw Joe and his wife a year ago, while they were in California for their son's ordination and Walt was in London). They are such lovely, gracious people and I always enjoy our brief meetings.

We stayed so long at the restaurant that the woman who was returning Higgins actually called as we were leaving. I didn't realize it was so late.

Walt dropped me off at home and went off to work on the set he's helping to build right now. I waited for Higgins, who arrived very shortly after I got home again.

The woman who dropped him off stayed for 20-30 minutes, playing with the dogs and watching Higgins reunite with his siblings again. There were some squabbles and some minor territorial challenges, but basically they all seemed happy to see each other again.

After she left, I took them all out to the back yard, where they exploded into a flurry of hairy masses chasing each other around and around and around.

Lizzie seemed to vacillate between wanting to being one of the gang and wanting to exert her superiority over the smaller guys. I just LOVE the look on Higgins' face in this picture:

For the moment, Higgins is back home again. I hesitate to be optimistic, but last night all three puppies slept all night cuddled up next to each other. Nobody demanded to be in my lap with Dexter, and even when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, they sat up and looked at me, but immediately went back to sleep as soon as I returned. I hardly dare hope that this will be how things will go now that Higgins is back, but I sure appreciated the sleep last night!

When Friends Write Books

It's always cool when friends get books published. I have a shelf of books by people that I actually know, some of whom are actually kinda sorta semi-good friends.

Today was a big week for friends writing books. Only in this case they aren't exactly friends. One is a lady I sat next to at a Says You taping two years ago, and the other is a blogger whose blog I've been reading for awhile.

Harriet Reisen is the wife of Says You panelist Tony Kahn. Tony isn't exactly a friend either, though he feels like one since I've been listening to him on the show for years, did typing for him on the Morning Stories project, was interviewed over the telephone by him, and have actually had a couple of brief face to face conversations with him. And I sat next to his wife at one of the Says You tapings. We got along so well during the first half of the taping, that she found another seat for the second half of the show!

BUT, she's a huge Louisa May Alcott fan. Like me, she was taken in at a young age by Little Women (a book I read numerous times...and of course, like every other little girl, I identified with Jo). But she went further and immersed herself in all of Alcott's life and all of her works, even the pulp fiction penned under another name (A.M. Barnard).

And now she has written a book about the woman who brought the March family to life.

Reisen has so immersed herself in Alcott's world that it makes me want to visit Jeri in Boston again, so I can make my own little tour of the homes in which she lived and try to visualize the New England world of the 1800s which shaped the life of such a prolific and eclectic author, who was truly the J.K. Rowling of her day.

It seems to me that on one of our trips to Massachusetts and driving around the countryside we passed the home where Alcott lived when she was writing Little Women (or it may have been another author writing another famous book...I just thought I remembered it was Alcott). Now I want to tour the house with that thought in mind.

Reisen's book is not one that you rush through to find out whodunnit, but rather one to be explored, savored, and studied, as you allow yourself to be inspired by the lively Alcott. (In reading about the difference between her and her older sister, I am very much reminded of how our life changed when Ned arrived as the second child and the relationship he had with Jeri when they were the only two children in the family. And just reading the first few chapters and watching Little Women when the puppies woke me at some ungodly hour this morning made me realize how semi-autobiographical that story is!)

As for the second "friend" book, Ree Drummond isn't a friend. She doesn't know who I am from Adam, but I was introduced to her blog, The Pioneer Woman, by my friend Joan. She's the kind of blogger you love to hate, or at the very least feel extremely jealous of--she can do anything. She takes gorgeous photos, creates amazing foods including canning, baking and pickling. She keeps an immaculate decorator-worthy house, raises beautiful children (whom she home schools), and lives on a ranch with beautiful cows and horses and other four-legged critters. In addition to all that, she's a terrific writer who tells wonderful stories. You go to her blog to learn how to use PhotoShop, to find an idea for dinner, to see the beautiful animal photos, look at the pictures of her kids, read the story of her love affair with her husband, "The Marlboro Man," or be inspired to improve your own writing.

And the thing about her is that I've read other SuperWomen bloggers before, who do a lot of what she does, but they all seem so arrogant, but I don't find Drummond to be arrogant at all; in fact, she comes across as quite likeable (which is why I continue to read her blog).

And now she has written one of the nicest cookbooks I've seen in a long time.

I don't buy cookbooks any more, as a general rule, because I can always research a recipe on the Internet for free, but I love the way she explains recipes, and I also wanted to be supportive of a fellow blogger.

The book is set up beautifully, a little bit country, a little bit cookery!

As on her web site, the recipes are easy to follow with gorgeous step by step photos to guide you along the way.

And every so often you come across something you least expect in a cookbook.

But then it takes you right back to the purpose of the book.

This book is more than a mere cookbook and I look forward to not only checking out some of my favorite recipes and discovering new ones, but also delving into the narrative sections as well.

Ree Drummond will probably never know who I am, but I'm glad to have her cookbook on my shelf.

Another Corner Heard From

I finally heard from the third of my three Compassion kids. I'm not sponsoring Fred, but his sponsor doesn't have time to write to him, so he needs someone to write to him and I volunteered.

Fred lives in the southern part of the island of Luzon, in the Philippines. According to the information that came with this letter, "Bicol is one of the major tourist destinations in the Philippines and is primarily known as the home of Mount Mayon, an active volcano with a perfectly shaped cone. It is the Philippines' most active volcano. It has an elevation of 2,462 meters (8,007 feet) with a base diameter of 20 km.

"Bicol is also famous for its rich and spicy dishes which are mostly cooked using "gata," or coconut milk and flavored with "siling labuyo," or chili. Well known Bicolano specialties are "bicol express," "inanaqat," "liang" and "kinunot." Must buys include "pili," nut-based delicacies, and handicrafts.

"Compassion has a total of 3,849 registered children in Bicol, coming from 30 projects as of March 2009."

The above is a picture of Mt. Mayon, the Philippines' most active volcano and considered to be the world's most perfectly formed volcano for its symmetrical cone. The name Mayon is derived from the Bicolano word "Magayon" which means "beautiful." (See how instructive this blogl can be?)

Many of the children come from non-English speaking countries, and so their letters need to be translated before they can be sent. However, Fred's mother, Lyra, wrote the letter for him, in English, which opens up all sorts of possibilities for sending him little books and things that require the ability to understand English, since the translators only translate the letters.

According to her letter, six year old Fred is the oldest of four children (this sounds like MY family!) and his younger siblings are all girls. The father is, according to Lyra, "a tricycle driver." But she doesn't say what he does on the tricycle, whether it is delivering stuff or something like a street taxi driver.

So I have now heard from all three of my Compassion children and already the letters to them are starting to be individualized -- up to this point, I was sending the identical letter to all three kids, but as I begin to learn about their likes and dislikes, and to answer their questions, they will start getting individually written letters.

The nice thing about Compassion is that you can either send a real letter or you can send an e-mail. I send little things like stickers or photos or things like that through the mail, but if I have nothing to send (or don't feel like getting something ready to send), then I can send an e-mail instead. And we all know I know how to send e-mail!

I am cautiously optimistic that Higgins has a new home. A woman picked him up the other day to take him home on a "trial run" to see how he got along with their dog, who has had problems with other dogs in the past. From all reports, though the two dogs have not yet bonded, Higgins seems to have little separation anxiety! The woman hasn't called yet to say she is going to be bringing him back.

Higgins on a day he went with her to her work

The other three have become adamant about being in my lap whenever my knees bend. Dexter has learned how to jump into my lap (but then he's the older puppy, by at least a month, even if he is much smaller). Eliza knows how to climb up the footrest of the recliner if I tilt it down for her a bit. Freddie has more trouble, but if he can get his front legs on the footrest, I can pick him up by my feet (it's difficult to pick up a big dog when you already have two other dogs in your lap!) Doing this at 3 a.m. is just so much fun!

There was no adoption at Petco this week, since it was Halloween and it's a bad idea to try to introduce a new pet into the family on a night with so much confusion going on, so it will be at least a week before we have our next shot at finding a new home for all the puppies.

NaVloPoMo

I'm doing -- or attemting to do -- one vlog post a day, so this is my post for November 1.

NaVloPoMo #1 from Bev Sykes on Vimeo.