he Is Risen

I'm enjoying an extended working stay in Boston, removed from the assault of screaming children and political analysis that would otherwise consume me, and hoping to add my name to the whirling list of nobodys (amidst those who are somebodys to the nobodys) at the end of an Oscar winning motion picture. My hopes are usually pinned to shakier prospects than this, so it's a big deal. My holiday has lasted only long enough to lay flooring for my parents and mediate a battle over who's spitting on who's chocolate bunny. I'll have to miss the heavily salted ham and gray bean casserole for an overpriced chicken sandwich at the Vince Lombardi rest stop on the New Jersey turnpike en route to my lonely hotel room [decorated by someone who deserves to be smacked around {that from a Quaker}]. I'm working on affording the technology [and discipline] that would allow me to more regularly post. Upcoming for sure is a diatribe on the MA driver (Masshole; since when is the shoulder a lane?). I'm having a taste of power as a 'gang boss' over a crew of furniture restorers though the job title suggests we're picking up litter on the highway. My travel day commences in about fifteen minutes so here's my loftiest introspection. Even an atheist would have to revisit the idea of an afterlife if one has managed to survive a 6:30 am merge onto I-95 at exit 15B. Peace.

today in washington

It's not always all about politics. But this month, between loading laundry, I'm getting more than my fill and just can't seem to shut up. One of the very few differences between last night's State of the Union speech and any other is that his usual "The state of the Union is strong!" [delusional] assertion came not up front but rather, snuck in the back door at the end of the speech with 'blah blah blah"...to keep the state of our Union strong". This President, with more than his share of unintended laugh lines has finally developed , if nothing else in the past seven years, a sense of comedic timing- although he did seem to be taken off guard by a bit of spirited mid-sentence applause for an [otherwise hollow] invocation of the Constitution. Timing aside, he may never 'get' irony. The Democratic spokesperson's rebuttal was so stumpy that it came as no surprise to me in the following forty minute news cycle whom she was expected to endorse today. The "join us, Mr. President" chorus left me with the impression that 1. A Democratic Governor of a formerly red state might as well be a Sudanese warlord before getting the attention of this President; and 2. Competent political speech writers must be honoring the strike. It was an interesting news day. Twixt this coverage and the 'Liberal Lion's endorsement of Barrack was the story of a man apparently standing outside of the north fence around the White House shouting 'threats'. I imagine these might have included "If you don't get us out of this damn war, no one will be safe anywhere" and "If you manage to finish out your term I'm gonna be a pauper!". This development was important enough to secure the area against the unknown contents of his duffel bag but apparently not important enough for a follow-up report- even by end of the next day. I'm confused. In the main-stream media the absence of bombs, or bombs thwarted by the administration's vigilance is usually big news. I'm guessing the bag contained instead pictures of Laura, since they have to be somewhere. Remember, they fell in love when he was still a party animal. I have to say, I was most impressed by how Senator Ted was able to balance himself on a spindly Ikea bar stool for fifteen minutes of accolades without toppling off into the young A.U. student's laps. Noting the invariable fate of inflatable front lawn snowmen, it was something of an inevitability. Later at the SOTU, he displayed a palpable relief at having no reason under the sun to stand up again for the rest of the day. He delivered a rather withered expression to something Senator Obama whispered in his ear- which I lip-read to have been, "There's Hillary, pretend we're making out." Sour-faced Hillary, sitting between Senators Carper and Biden must have hoped she was invisible- (no one would ever think of looking for a primary candidate in Delaware). I won't even comment on the Florida Republican primary other than to marvel at the alacrity with which they've gone from too much paper trail to none at all. And did I hear Mitt Romney use the phrase "...in countries like Asia and India."?? But I'll shut up now.

mlk

Couldn't we have at least one day out of the year not spent evoking the legacy of Dr. King? I kind of knew where we were headed when clues to the long answers in this mornings crossword puzzle were; King of Hollywood, King of the Wild Frontier, King of Swing, and King of the links (kind of an extension of Saturday's puzzle where the answers were; Dr. Kildare, Dr. Feelgood, Dr. Zhivago, and Dr. Who[ever]- and VBIRHZ CSRWOI FHZM, KI. made the cryptogram no challenge at all). But the capper was listening to Wolf Blitzer hypothetically dragging him from the grave for one of the Democratic candidates to claim his endorsement (and I thought that the Frederick Douglass quote used earlier by Ms. Clinton to define her battle to fulfill Dr. King's legacy was going to be the gallsiest moment of my day). But why not dig up Thurgood Marshall, and for that matter Malcolm X, to beg their endorsement? Perhaps American history searches only among the pacifistic bids for black empowerment to define the civil rights movement; hoping that the memory of black militancy will just go away and skipping over Justice Marshall's legacy, who as Chief Council for the NAACP won 29 of the 32 cases which he argued in front of his predecessors on the Supreme Court. (Look up "Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka", then tell me your best lawyer joke.) I'll save my most savory question to the long-dead to ask Justice Marshall for his musings on Clarence Thomas. Not to take anything away from the dreamers; the Republicans have had a free hand at making theirs come true for some time now. Lest my wandering commentary not point clearly enough to the idiotic Blitzer as the cynosure of my sarcasm, be assured that even were he not an on-air personality with an abundance of facial hair AND despite his unfortunate given name, AND the combination of the two, I could not let such a question enter the public dialog uncommented on. (Luckily, only Edwards took the bait). If Dr. King were to come back to weigh in on anything at all, I would expect he would have surfaced years ago to protest the right-wing takeover of Southern Baptist theological seminaries, an issue perhaps closer to home than even the secular brand of hypocrisy- though I'm not convinced that the one isn't inextricably tied to the other. As long as 'folks' are trying on the idea of a [non-white male] President, couldn't we adopt an idea promoted this past month in the funny papers? Let's install a "Shut Up Zone" around the poor Doctor, and let our candidates march the last couple of miles on their own.

change

There we have it. Republicans, Democrats, and Close-mouthed-On-The-Cut-Of-Their-Political-Jibs alike- Iowans went with 'change'. For the Democrats- job well done; not only for pulling record numbers away from Ugly Betty and out into the cold, but for distilling the mind-boogling array of substantive issues into a cogent snipe-fest worthy of year-long MSM coverage. How many news cycles did we spend hashing through the "Hussein" quandary (would he be able to shake the nefarious implication in a general)? Will our next Commander-In-Chief be sporting pearls or diamonds? Myrtle Gooch, the retired key punch operator from Fleasburg, South Dakota-with an un-insured bi-polar boyfriend sharing her 'double-wide' trailer and an arsonist son carrying out the remainder of his house arrest in Iraq, has QVC on the line: she needs to know NOW. And wasn't that $400. invoice for a 'haircut' just bookkeeper code for 'Botox'? Some could argue that our greatest hope for the future is that there will be one (asking for anything greater would be audacious), but in the end Mo got Eeny and Meeny good! Miney never stood a chance. For the Republicans- likewise; running a low budget campaign in the Bible Basket against the seductive influence of a handsome corporate millionaire from New England who is rumoured to believe that Jesus was Satan's brother couldn't have been easy. Spelling Huckabee is in itself a feat (it's 'hucka...' without the '...alzabub'). I'll bet there was a whole lot of "kneeling before God" going on it those living rooms. This message of change has lifted us all. As a Democrat I am happy that we are all spared the many decades of experience my own state's candidate might have muddled the debate with (droning on the way he does about this warring faction and that belligerent government agency- save it for Larry King), and relieved that my vote for substance over buzz words has been pre-empted by a process that to this outsider sounds for all the world like a politically charged quilting bee. Thank you, Iowa. Now, if I'm lucky, I won't have to wait for the convention to find out which sparkling speechifyer we go into battle with. Which vision will America embrace?; change with experience, change with hope, change with not a whole lot of change, change of wives, or change without evolutionary change.

epiphany

I've already leaked how much resolve my great ambition has left me with ('smoker'), and I can't say my expectations are any higher than they were when I gave Santa my list ('dear santa,'), but insomuch as I've learned from the events of 2007 (and I feel a pressing need to waste my five millionth parenthetical comment to praise the economy of words like 'insomuch') , so now do I 'resolve' to learn at least as much from what awaits [to confound] me in 2008. Maybe a pithy recap of the year will help raise the red flags for me;

• January- I garner a bit of media attention from local news sources for decorating Benjamin Franklin's 300th birthday cake at the Constitution Center in Philadelphia. Though piping tile adhesive through a pastry bag to hide the construction seams on a ten foot high plywood 'cake', I wear a chef's hat. (the year seems to start out on a high note)


• February- I design the set for a dinner theater production of 'Grease', a musical I can't say less about. What I learned; just because the director is passing a snotty comment over his shoulder as he storms out of the final production meeting is no reason to believe that the consequence of calling him a "shitty director" to his receding back will not be revisited on me.


• March- I spend most of this month recovering from and regretting the last one.


• April- I remount a production of 'Don Giovanni' which I designed for Opera Delaware to Temple University. In the new production, my surreal set steps closer to surrealism with the introduction of a predominantly Korean cast, in ludicrous wigs, singing the Italian book to a Viennese opera set in Spain.


• May- With dozens of on-line inquiries netting nothing close to a job offer, I throw myself into designing the T-shirt for an upcoming family reunion. As though I've learned nothing at all from my dinner theater experience, I make this project more expensive and complex than it need have been. I faff around on the Internet; googling myself, exposing the mysteries of my clan (finding out how horrifyingly easy it is to summon some one's mother's maiden name), and launching arms-length emails to everyone I know, bitching about my pitiful circumstance. I discover the irony lurking within my ennui and- Smack Dab is born.


• June- Most importantly, my blog brings me closer to my parents (I'm {at the time}48). They hear my voice- which is meant for everyone- and they 'get' me. What I can't convey in cards and letters, even during holiday visits with my brothers and with all those little nose-pickers around, is that as alien as I might have always seemed to them, there is no one I've wanted more to be understood by. Our almost daily email dialog begins.


• July- I'm in family therapy discussing how impotent I feel when I'm out of work when THE call comes offering work (a lot of it)- which would keep me away from an exercise we might not have been entirely through with but which would keep me heavily and happily employed through...


• August


• September


• October


• November


• December-I am again a 'housfrau' with again no expectation of meaningful employment for quite a while. The good news (for my blistered ego) is that that dinner theater has decided ('insomuch' eventually loses what it may have bought in brevity by sentences which include '...that that...')- however tactlessly my assessment offered back there in February was, it was entirely on the money; I am asked to design "Gypsy" for them this Spring. I learn that there is an extremely fine line between designing sets and drinking bourbon all day long- and to take a polite pass on designing musicals which turn my stomach. (...but I love "Gypsy"). I have a few months to put in place a more carefully measured approach for winning the new director's confidence. I 'resolve' to [as they say] "stay in my own lane", to respect a director's vision (however dull), and to resist trying to have the last word when an actor is making his grand exit. [Yeah, right].

We limp into the new year with a Matterhorn of laundry (we're in trouble, it obscures the door to the front-loading washing machine), an even more pressing need for uninterrupted trash service (that bill zooms to the top of the heap), and bad news from the outdoors for an old furnace. But I am thankful for the modicum of perspective that has succeeded in piercing this shell of self-absorption. The people I complain about the most, my family, are the ones who suffer me the best, and...anything worth having is worth the acres of confusion and turmoil associated with having it. To paraphrase a quote from somewhere- who wouldn't give their right arm to be miserable in such a lovely pink house? Maybe I've been happy all along and just didn't know it.

whatsit

How did I ever get on without this thing? Speaking as an audiophile, here is what I now know I was starved for; bass. My life is filled with treble. Everything presents itself to me in high-pitched urgency. Demanding baby voices drag me from listening to my own heartbeat to feed them and satisfy their desire for this or that. Shrill associates want to know if this will be done on time and what that will cost. Ad spots seek my attention at a pitch that has surely caused me to bleed internally. It's been a long time, probably since Tom Snyder was on the air, that I've enjoyed listening to people. If you've ever heard the sound of aluminum going through a table saw (as frequently enough I do) you may understand how brain-rattlingly close to insanity an unfriendly note can send one. On a less extreme level this is what I endure daily. Maybe it's the cousin malady of how the tags inside clothing drive me to distraction. How to defend one's self against that high end of audio frequency that most people will accept and even seem to enjoy- surely one reason why I've never watched "American Idol". My new best friends- earbuds! Here are the benefits; No one can demand my attention from another room- they must now wave their hands in front of my face and mouthe their urgencies... the phone calls that are never for me are now answered by- not me... and that argument to decide who goes on the computer after I'm finished blogging is mediated by,....?{"scuse me while I kiss this guy..."}. It may seem like I'm only using this as a chance to shirk my responsibilities, but no. Today I played five games of 'Clue', sterilized the kitchen, did some laundry, picked up all of the same things I picked up yesterday, and made a hearty and nutritious dinner- happily oblivious to the barrage of complains and the constant drone of synthesized race track noise that normally scores our home life. These have been effectively doused by a thumpy soundtrack of my own choosing. And to think that only a few weeks ago I was suggesting to Santa, in near complete disregard of my own request for a sound-proof booth, that we could live without 'nano's. Oh no we can not! If you're under forty, you're probably marveling at how long it's taken me to latch onto this concept- how long ago did the Sony Walkman offer us retreat from our noisy world? First of all, I would have worn a rhinestone tiara before choosing to appear in public sporting a set of those corny headphones- who am I?, Lt. Cmdr. Sulu? Next, was I really supposed to carry around my library of recorded music?- I can barely find room on my person for car keys and a wallet. Last and most tellingly, things are only a good idea when I finally decide they are. Till then, I'll give you every reason in the world why they are the scourge of modern life. For instance, I've only recently decided that cell phones are a necessity- offers of employment arrive on them. If you choose to chit-chat away on one, that's your business. Just remember; once upon a time the sight of someone talking to themselves in public signaled that they were insane. At least for me, this impression has not changed. But I still offer a resounding no thanks! to palm-sized keyboards (and the subsequent dismantlement of our written language caused by the difficulty of typing with one's thumbs), programmable coffee makers (program this-just hurry up with the coffee!), and those new-fangled automatic transmissions (there are already too many fluids under the hood to keep track of). To think, the option of nodding in time and shuffle-stepping my path through the drudgery and assault of this demanding world was only ever several hours of transferring discs and a few hundred dollars away. I have to wonder (now that introspection is back on the table). What else may I have been wrong about. ....thump,thump,thump...."What's that?!"

morning

I'm not quite sure what happened during the twenty minutes while I slept, but I completely missed all of the "wide-eyed wonder". Slipping through the shredded packaging and spent cap gun shells on my path to the coffee maker, I thought I heard someone shout out "Wow! Thanks!" but I can't be sure. By the time I settled in front of our pink tree [to luxuriate in that new 'permanent tree' smell] plans were already being made to have this returned, that repaired, and the other phone call placed for tech support. Santa brought my two children the Rolls Royce of 'Dust Buster's which is [in real time] being used to clean up a broken mirror. I can't decide if this means Huckabee will be assassinated well into his second term or I'll be graduating from night school with a Masters degree in something useful. Michael is modeling his new underwear for me. As always, underwear models loom prominently in my 'happy place'. With earbuds plugged into his new 'nano', A. (again in real time) is rapping a [somewhat breezy] proof-reading over my shoulder. (The dog is napping- tuckered out from her new chew toy, or her face would be in mine as well). You might never have known my power of concentration would be so tested but, rest assured, this is generally how I 'compose'. As Michael and I both observed last night, the "....happiest time of the year" is- Spring!; the heater gets turned off, the mailman changes into shorts, what bulbs those damned squirrels haven't eaten offer their display, crafty 'black ice' is replaced by honest mud, and at the earliest possible date, we all head off for the beach. It's also the time when most of the things now littering our floor will be knee-deep somewhere in a landfill. I kinda feel bad about that- but can you put a price tag on five animals in one house being happy all at the same time? ( "Just dig them deeper!"). I offer these condolences; elephants de-forest at a higher rate per capita than human beings; despite winning a Nobel Prize, an Oscar, and the popular vote, Al Gore is still irrelevant; and this year at least, I have not [knowingly] killed or financed the killing of a tree. (My last word on that topic, I promise). My greatest hope is that this society will boil down to some delicious mix of asphalt, Kentucky Fried carcasses and pooped-in plastic diapers. Perhaps future societies paying $100. a gallon for this melange will wish we cared less..., who knows. If I still had a tail it would be wagging quicky between my legs like I just found duck innards in my kibble-(real time again) Mom-Mom gave me... what?!, a 'nano' of my very own! I don't know what color to turn! For me, it's a gigantic push in the direction of... well, piracy. I admit while that holds a great allure, I will download with only a clear conscience- songs I've already paid for on vinyl or [that shiny stuff] (I'm one of the last still out there 'browsing' through the bins). I could go off on how "The Man Who Fell To Earth" this device looks, who could resist wanting one no matter what it does. The bad news is that between everyone in the house downloading from i tunes, visiting game cheats, and managing the busy lives of five webkins, I have to fight for my time in this chair. So quickly, my Christmas message is this; You want to be socially conscious, to hope that swapping out light bulbs will make a difference, to hope that we are not all ultimately defined by how much trash we generate. But it all kind of goes out the window this time of year. Consumption becomes more conspicuous, and let no deadly sin go unrealized. To care too much about the shallowness of our desires would bring us all down. I accept my shallowness and I accept it in others. There are too many more days in the year to be harsh in our judgements. There is only one way (that I know of) to attone for our selfishness. That is to earnestly pray for the health and happiness of everyone everywhere. No bequeath, no hour of service, no amount of self-deprivation can accomplish more. Peace.