So, last night I went to another play. I know. It’s getting to be a little bit of a vice with me. But I did actually pay for these tickets. So I don’t have that free-ticket-hog guilt about it this time.
And the show was lovely. It was the Sarah Ruhl translation of Eurydice. And all the actors were good. Eurydice was cute and delicate in just the way I’d choose to be if I hadn’t decided to be strong and quirky instead. Orpheus was a nice looking fella, and a brave enough actor to choose to be slightly unlikable. The father was a foxy older gentleman, and my absolute favorite in the show. And Hades was creeeeeeepy as hell. And funny at the same time. Not an easy trick.
And I say the show was lovely. And I’m about 80% sure of that. Because the theater was in a basement that had giant pillars spread around, so that at least a third of the audience couldn’t see at least 20% of the show. In fact, I’m not at all sure what happened to Eurydice at the very end. I’m assuming that she threw herself into the Lethe. But given that it was entirely behind that damned column, she could as easily have strutted off the stage doing the can-can for all I know.
It all made me remember the experience that I had in high school that made me love going to the theater. It was at Arena Stage in D.C. They did a production of Tartuffe. With actual actors in the cast from the Comedie Francaise. I had no idea what it meant, but I was very impressed anyway. And it was all incredibly good. Until the end. When there was this horrible noise. And the walls started to shake. And tiles fell away from the walls all around us. Then the floor fell out in the shape of a cross. And the ceiling opened up. And a tall black man in a cassock came through the opening hanging out of a helicopter. And there was wind, and smoke, and flashing lights. And it was wonderful. Gasp. Applause, applause, applause. And that's what can happen when good actors have a good performance space (ahem, Undermain Theater).
Some people have an experience like that and it makes them want to be an actor or a playwright, or just somehow a part of the theater. Me, it made want to go to the theater, again and again, for the rest of my life, and be entertained. And I hope someday I’ll have that kind of experience again. It’s a lot to ask. But, as my Momma says, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Chicago Style
The more I see about the Illinois governor, the more I think of two specific things:
1. I keep thinking about that scene in the Untouchables where Robert Deniro as Capone has all the mafia guys around the table and demonstrates what happens to people in Chicago when they screw with the Boss. Except when I see the scene, it's Obama holding the baseball bat.
2. They elected a guy with this haircut? Mistake.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it
OK. So my genius streak continues. It's 9:30 last night. It has just finished sleeting. I realize that the temperature is still dropping, and I haven't wrapped up my outside faucet to make sure the pipes don't burst if we have a hard freeze. Crap.
First, I can't find the styrofoam dealy that my pops gave me, with stern warnings about the dangers of frozen pipes. So, I run around looking for a substitute. I find: an old towel, a plastic grocery bag, a piece of rope. Good to go.
I'm wearing my awesome Minnetonka indoor/outdoor, slip-on houseshoes, which are perfect for quick trips to the dumpster, and raids to the backyard to wrap imperiled faucets, that last mere seconds. I put on my serious weather coat, warm gloves, the ugliest hat I own, and I'm ready to do home protection.
I go out the sliding door, and pull it closed because, contrary to the rumor that my mother spreads, I'm not trying to heat the whole outdoors. And then watch as the slide bar falls into place. Oh, fuuuuuuuuudge. But I didn't say fudge.
I'm locked out. I looked at that slide bar when I moved in. Knowing full well that this very thing would happen, someday. It wasn't practically inevitable. It was inevitable. I just kind of hoped it would be in freezing temperatures.
I pushed the door a few times to see if I could bump it out of the way. I actually would have been appalled if it did. It's supposed to keep the door from sliding open. Just hopefully with me on the inside.
Of course, I have no keys, no wallet. Why would I take keys and a wallet to go into the backyard for 30 seconds?
Luckily, I know two things you don't know. One, I have a keypad front door lock. No keys necessary. But, you ask, what about the 6-foot fence. And I say: Two, a misspent youth as a tomboy has left me with mad fence climbing skills. That's right, baby. I shinnied up that fence and dropped on the other side like Barbara Felden in fake fur-lined houseshoes. And aside from the ice flakes that dropped in my collar, and the fear that my neighbors called the cops about the person breaking and un-entering my house, everything was just fine. (And the cops didn't show up. Neighborhood Watch my ass.)
I hurried back to the front door, got back inside the house, went back out the sliding door, carefully securing the slide bar, wrapped the faucet, and went back inside to shiver and call the person who gave me the keypad to say THANK YOU!
First, I can't find the styrofoam dealy that my pops gave me, with stern warnings about the dangers of frozen pipes. So, I run around looking for a substitute. I find: an old towel, a plastic grocery bag, a piece of rope. Good to go.
I'm wearing my awesome Minnetonka indoor/outdoor, slip-on houseshoes, which are perfect for quick trips to the dumpster, and raids to the backyard to wrap imperiled faucets, that last mere seconds. I put on my serious weather coat, warm gloves, the ugliest hat I own, and I'm ready to do home protection.
I go out the sliding door, and pull it closed because, contrary to the rumor that my mother spreads, I'm not trying to heat the whole outdoors. And then watch as the slide bar falls into place. Oh, fuuuuuuuuudge. But I didn't say fudge.
I'm locked out. I looked at that slide bar when I moved in. Knowing full well that this very thing would happen, someday. It wasn't practically inevitable. It was inevitable. I just kind of hoped it would be in freezing temperatures.
I pushed the door a few times to see if I could bump it out of the way. I actually would have been appalled if it did. It's supposed to keep the door from sliding open. Just hopefully with me on the inside.
Of course, I have no keys, no wallet. Why would I take keys and a wallet to go into the backyard for 30 seconds?
Luckily, I know two things you don't know. One, I have a keypad front door lock. No keys necessary. But, you ask, what about the 6-foot fence. And I say: Two, a misspent youth as a tomboy has left me with mad fence climbing skills. That's right, baby. I shinnied up that fence and dropped on the other side like Barbara Felden in fake fur-lined houseshoes. And aside from the ice flakes that dropped in my collar, and the fear that my neighbors called the cops about the person breaking and un-entering my house, everything was just fine. (And the cops didn't show up. Neighborhood Watch my ass.)
I hurried back to the front door, got back inside the house, went back out the sliding door, carefully securing the slide bar, wrapped the faucet, and went back inside to shiver and call the person who gave me the keypad to say THANK YOU!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Freezing my tchotchkes off
Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
It was a stupid mistake. And even stupider because it’s not the first time I’ve made it.
Yesterday they said there was a cold front coming that should have hit right after last night’s rain.
I woke up this morning to a rather warm day. Not summer warm. Fall warm. Light jacket warm. I thought, “Hmm. This isn’t as bad as they predicted” as I grabbed my beloved jean jacket (sartorial weapon of choice) on the way out the door.
Little did I know that the cold front that was supposed to be hard on the heels of the rain, said “Oh, no. You go on. I’ll catch up.” And stopped to have huevos rancheros somewhere between Albuquerque and Taos. I don’t fault the call. New Mexico makes some good heuvos.
But the cold lollygagged it’s way into town around lunchtime. And right now, it’s 33 degrees, with a wind chill that puts it at 26. Brrrrrrr. And me with only a jean jacket.
Makes my Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
It was a stupid mistake. And even stupider because it’s not the first time I’ve made it.
Yesterday they said there was a cold front coming that should have hit right after last night’s rain.
I woke up this morning to a rather warm day. Not summer warm. Fall warm. Light jacket warm. I thought, “Hmm. This isn’t as bad as they predicted” as I grabbed my beloved jean jacket (sartorial weapon of choice) on the way out the door.
Little did I know that the cold front that was supposed to be hard on the heels of the rain, said “Oh, no. You go on. I’ll catch up.” And stopped to have huevos rancheros somewhere between Albuquerque and Taos. I don’t fault the call. New Mexico makes some good heuvos.
But the cold lollygagged it’s way into town around lunchtime. And right now, it’s 33 degrees, with a wind chill that puts it at 26. Brrrrrrr. And me with only a jean jacket. Gives me the chillvers just thinking of it. When will I ever learn?????
It was a stupid mistake. And even stupider because it’s not the first time I’ve made it.
Yesterday they said there was a cold front coming that should have hit right after last night’s rain.
I woke up this morning to a rather warm day. Not summer warm. Fall warm. Light jacket warm. I thought, “Hmm. This isn’t as bad as they predicted” as I grabbed my beloved jean jacket (sartorial weapon of choice) on the way out the door.
Little did I know that the cold front that was supposed to be hard on the heels of the rain, said “Oh, no. You go on. I’ll catch up.” And stopped to have huevos rancheros somewhere between Albuquerque and Taos. I don’t fault the call. New Mexico makes some good heuvos.
But the cold lollygagged it’s way into town around lunchtime. And right now, it’s 33 degrees, with a wind chill that puts it at 26. Brrrrrrr. And me with only a jean jacket.
Makes my Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
It was a stupid mistake. And even stupider because it’s not the first time I’ve made it.
Yesterday they said there was a cold front coming that should have hit right after last night’s rain.
I woke up this morning to a rather warm day. Not summer warm. Fall warm. Light jacket warm. I thought, “Hmm. This isn’t as bad as they predicted” as I grabbed my beloved jean jacket (sartorial weapon of choice) on the way out the door.
Little did I know that the cold front that was supposed to be hard on the heels of the rain, said “Oh, no. You go on. I’ll catch up.” And stopped to have huevos rancheros somewhere between Albuquerque and Taos. I don’t fault the call. New Mexico makes some good heuvos.
But the cold lollygagged it’s way into town around lunchtime. And right now, it’s 33 degrees, with a wind chill that puts it at 26. Brrrrrrr. And me with only a jean jacket. Gives me the chillvers just thinking of it. When will I ever learn?????
You're not THAT cute
http://health.yahoo.com/experts/eatthis/21278/americas-worst-and-best-salads/
Fine, he's hot. But I'm still just really starting to hate this man. Doom and gloom. Doom and gloom. The sky is falling! The salads are fattening! Eat carrots dipped in wallpaper paste! Air has too many calories!
Nobody is that good looking.
Fine, he's hot. But I'm still just really starting to hate this man. Doom and gloom. Doom and gloom. The sky is falling! The salads are fattening! Eat carrots dipped in wallpaper paste! Air has too many calories!
Nobody is that good looking.
To quote En Voge - what a man, what a man, what a mighty, mighty good man
http://movies.yahoo.com/news/movies.reuters.com-fox-adapt-9yearold39s-selfhelp-book-reuters
I've heard this kid on the radio. And I don't really even care if it's a put up job. He's just adorable. And hearing a nine-year old talk about relationships is just plain cute as a fluffy blanket full of big-eyed puppies.
Beyond cute, he's got tips that I know a few post-pubescent men could use. Like if you want to talk to a girl, you have to talk about things that girls like, and most girls don't like video games. And girls don't like bragging. Oh, and basic hygiene is a plus. It's remarkable how many men can get to 40 without twigging to these eternal truths.
For every man who has ever said he'll never figure out women, and shook his mystified head like we were riddles wrapped in enigmas needing therapy, I'd like to say - The nine-year old figured it out! Some riddle.
I've heard this kid on the radio. And I don't really even care if it's a put up job. He's just adorable. And hearing a nine-year old talk about relationships is just plain cute as a fluffy blanket full of big-eyed puppies.
Beyond cute, he's got tips that I know a few post-pubescent men could use. Like if you want to talk to a girl, you have to talk about things that girls like, and most girls don't like video games. And girls don't like bragging. Oh, and basic hygiene is a plus. It's remarkable how many men can get to 40 without twigging to these eternal truths.
For every man who has ever said he'll never figure out women, and shook his mystified head like we were riddles wrapped in enigmas needing therapy, I'd like to say - The nine-year old figured it out! Some riddle.
Monday, December 8, 2008
Take two and call me in the morning.
Okay, I offer this as a "for what it's worth" kind of thing.
A week ago, I had a bad headache. One of those kind that can wake you up from a dead sleep, lingers for hours, sometimes days, and is almost impossible to get rid of with anything short of a sledgehammer to the head. It started slow in the evening, and jerked me out of sleep at about 2 in the morning. I stumbled to the kitchen on the way to get some Excedrine, though I didn't hold out much hope. On they way, I passed a box of dark chocolates from Starbucks that I'd bought, and had this impulse to eat some.
Usually, I'm very careful about what I eat when I have one of these headaches. The rule is don't eat anything that you'd mind seeing again an hour later. But for some reason, I really wanted that chocolate. (Me? Crave chocolate? Surely, I jest.) I hesitated, contemplating choco-barf, but did it anyway. Then swallowed some Excedrin and collapsed on the couch.
Strangely, about 5 minutes later, my headache started to ease. Then 15 minutes later, when the Excedrin should have kicked in, it disappeared completely. With this type of headache, complete relief is really rare for me. Usually I run through my entire arsenal (Excedrin, Advil, neti pot, warm compress, cold compress, sleep, hot shower, sinus medicine) and only get the edge taken off. But this was a complete better, not just a little better. I tried it again on Friday, and had similar results.
Dark chocolate, like red wine, may be a headache trigger for some people, though I've never had a problem with it. So, if that's you, I'd skip this tip. And I wouldn't say this is an excuse to go out and scarf a pound bar of Hershey Dark (like I need an excuse). What I've used has been one or two bite-size pieces. It's not a scientific study, peer reviewed or double-blind. But this could be information that you want to keep in your back pocket in case you have a monster headache that just won't go away. When you've maxed out on pain relievers (and maybe I'm not the only one this happens to), it's a little something extra you could try. As somebody who knows from headaches, I just thought I'd pass it along. And may you never have to use the information.
A week ago, I had a bad headache. One of those kind that can wake you up from a dead sleep, lingers for hours, sometimes days, and is almost impossible to get rid of with anything short of a sledgehammer to the head. It started slow in the evening, and jerked me out of sleep at about 2 in the morning. I stumbled to the kitchen on the way to get some Excedrine, though I didn't hold out much hope. On they way, I passed a box of dark chocolates from Starbucks that I'd bought, and had this impulse to eat some.
Usually, I'm very careful about what I eat when I have one of these headaches. The rule is don't eat anything that you'd mind seeing again an hour later. But for some reason, I really wanted that chocolate. (Me? Crave chocolate? Surely, I jest.) I hesitated, contemplating choco-barf, but did it anyway. Then swallowed some Excedrin and collapsed on the couch.
Strangely, about 5 minutes later, my headache started to ease. Then 15 minutes later, when the Excedrin should have kicked in, it disappeared completely. With this type of headache, complete relief is really rare for me. Usually I run through my entire arsenal (Excedrin, Advil, neti pot, warm compress, cold compress, sleep, hot shower, sinus medicine) and only get the edge taken off. But this was a complete better, not just a little better. I tried it again on Friday, and had similar results.
Dark chocolate, like red wine, may be a headache trigger for some people, though I've never had a problem with it. So, if that's you, I'd skip this tip. And I wouldn't say this is an excuse to go out and scarf a pound bar of Hershey Dark (like I need an excuse). What I've used has been one or two bite-size pieces. It's not a scientific study, peer reviewed or double-blind. But this could be information that you want to keep in your back pocket in case you have a monster headache that just won't go away. When you've maxed out on pain relievers (and maybe I'm not the only one this happens to), it's a little something extra you could try. As somebody who knows from headaches, I just thought I'd pass it along. And may you never have to use the information.
Side effects may include . . .
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20081208/ap_on_he_me/med_brain_pills;_ylt=An7QkFCoNygWtctcBmVzSQJvzwcF
This always induces one of my Dr. McCoy moments. You know, the episodes of Star Trek where good ol’ Len McCoy would crank about not liking having his atoms scattered all over the universe, thank you very much. Oh, Bones, you contrary old country doctor, how you fuss. Of course you’d take the transporter because it’s the fastest most efficient way to get planet-side. What do you want to do? Take the shuttle craft down, ya silly? All the cool kids are jumping on the big dots on the floor (in triangle formation) and sparkling off to glory and adventure. And you’re worrying about your molecules. You can’t be afraid of the new technology.
Well, actually, frequently I am. Especially when it comes in pill form. But I really start to feel like I’m being an old silly because the side effects that come with a lot of the new miracle drugs sound worse than the cure. I have migraines, but the current most prescribed migraine medicine has side effect that list up to and including heart attack and seizure. I’ll just keep the headaches, thanks.
But drugs to make you smarter. Hmmm. That’s a tough one. I wouldn’t mind being a little brighter. I would love to be able to do math in my head and understand string theory. And if there was a little bitty pill that would make me sharper, why would I be an old silly about that? First of all, because I’ve seen every sci-fi movie and tv show where scientists administer intelligence drugs, and the person becomes a genius, then the drugs fail, and the person knows their going to not be a genius any more, then they end up wearing overalls and backwards baseball caps in a group home and smiling a lot and not even remembering that they used to be a genius. Or dead.
Okay, yeah. I might be acting like a cranky old country doctor on this one, and getting upset about something all the cool kids will be doing. I could end up being stupid about something that could help me, especially in contrast to everybody else who has been popping genius pills. But I don’t trust the drug companies to come up with a pill that’s side effects aren’t worse than being plain old average dumb.
This always induces one of my Dr. McCoy moments. You know, the episodes of Star Trek where good ol’ Len McCoy would crank about not liking having his atoms scattered all over the universe, thank you very much. Oh, Bones, you contrary old country doctor, how you fuss. Of course you’d take the transporter because it’s the fastest most efficient way to get planet-side. What do you want to do? Take the shuttle craft down, ya silly? All the cool kids are jumping on the big dots on the floor (in triangle formation) and sparkling off to glory and adventure. And you’re worrying about your molecules. You can’t be afraid of the new technology.
Well, actually, frequently I am. Especially when it comes in pill form. But I really start to feel like I’m being an old silly because the side effects that come with a lot of the new miracle drugs sound worse than the cure. I have migraines, but the current most prescribed migraine medicine has side effect that list up to and including heart attack and seizure. I’ll just keep the headaches, thanks.
But drugs to make you smarter. Hmmm. That’s a tough one. I wouldn’t mind being a little brighter. I would love to be able to do math in my head and understand string theory. And if there was a little bitty pill that would make me sharper, why would I be an old silly about that? First of all, because I’ve seen every sci-fi movie and tv show where scientists administer intelligence drugs, and the person becomes a genius, then the drugs fail, and the person knows their going to not be a genius any more, then they end up wearing overalls and backwards baseball caps in a group home and smiling a lot and not even remembering that they used to be a genius. Or dead.
Okay, yeah. I might be acting like a cranky old country doctor on this one, and getting upset about something all the cool kids will be doing. I could end up being stupid about something that could help me, especially in contrast to everybody else who has been popping genius pills. But I don’t trust the drug companies to come up with a pill that’s side effects aren’t worse than being plain old average dumb.
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