Snarky, Self-Effacing Blog Title

Father--Daughter-Cat-Mouse-Bike Bonding

2010-08-04T06:30:00.000-07:00

So for those of you who were unaware, my dad is in a wheelchair, and has been so for nearly 8 years, due to a broken neck after a fall from the attic staircase (people, check your homes--it's true what they say about accidents in the house.)

Anyway, this blog is not about that. This blog is about how much fun I've been having re-connecting with my dad. My mother is on a 2-week trip to Alaska, cruising and viewing glaciers and basically taking her first vacation in about 3 years. I am playing her role, giving care and cooking meals and scooping the cat litter and all that. I've done this for her a few times in the past (and have also traveled across country with the both of them a few times) but something clicked these past two weeks that I guess happens when parents and children reach a certain age.

Dad and I have a lot in common. The man who was once so soberly noncommunicative and the daughter who was once so incongruously dramatic have both found a middle ground. We have been having such an adventure these two weeks, plotting out bike routes on google satellite, setting off the generator with the circuit breaker, re-assembling old Comp USA hard drives, pimping his stander, and pimping my new bike (he was instrumental in my basket/rack assembly, the two of which were completely incompatible without some new hardware).

If you haven't met my new bike, by the way, heeeeeeere's Iggy!

And here's the aforementioned cat, Mr. C:

And here's the gift he left us this morning:

It's never a dull moment, being a housedaughter. It's been fun. Sincerely. And I'm sincerely looking forward to returning to my regular life. Things could have turned out very differently after the accident, and I am currently very grateful that dad and I (and Mr. C) have had this time together. That's a good feeling.

2010-07-22T09:03:00.000-07:00

Dear Bluebell:

It's been a good year. I've really enjoyed your company. But we both knew when we started out together that this wasn't going to be a long-term thing. It's gone on longer than either of us really anticipated, partly because you're just so awesome.

But I need more from a bike. Suspension. Tougher rims. A lighter frame (not that you're fat--far from it! You're just--dense.)

Listen, I'm going to go out of town for a few weeks. I want you and I to see other people and bikes. If, when I get back, we want to have another go at us, that's cool. But I need to look at my options.

Thanks for being you. I still love you, no matter what happens.

PS--I'm gonna need that ring back.

Thanks.

Oh, it's only a paper moon

2010-06-11T15:48:00.000-07:00

Well, a cardboard tree, actually, and a paper lunar calendar. And corn husk dolls and dissected peanuts and pre-algebra and poetry and book reports and western expansion.

If you didn't already know, I've been in a long-term sub position at a French-English bilingual school since the end of April. It has been insanity. I am teaching nearly every grade, every subject from art to music to theatre to science to math to social studies.

It is awesome. The beauty/challenge of working in a tiny, tiny school is that everyone has to wear ten thousand hats. Some teachers find this overwhelming. I bathe in overwhelming. Overwhelming thrills me.

I just got done painting our set for the theatre club's play (a ten-minute bilingual rendering of 'The Ant and the Grashopper'). Two days ago I was at the planetarium examining models of the earth and the moon. On Tuesday, I will accompany the entire school in singing a song whose lyrics were penned by the 4th and 5th grades.

It is tons of work, at times incredibly frustrating and high-stress. I LOVE that.

A seven year old says to me "I learned my two lines!" and it's the happiest I've ever been. I'm more impressed by her achievement than by anything Idina Menzel has done. Does Idina Menzel know Arlene Ant's lines? I think not. I am greeted by these two lines everytime this seven-year old is in the same room with me. What has Idina done for me lately? I get no hugs from her, that's for sure. I get hugs from Arlene Ant.

In a year or two, I may actively hate my job again, but who knows? I might just still like it. At least I'll have the chance to find out, since I've been hired next year to teach kindergarten and third grade.

Off the sauce

2010-03-07T05:59:00.000-08:00

I am not catholic, or any flavor thereof, really. But Lent came at an appropriate time this year to try an experiment I've been wanting to do for a while.

Since Ash Wednesday, I've not had a drop of wine, beer, whiskey, or any other spirit distilled, fermented, brewed or aged. No booze.

For those of you who don't drink much or at all, this may seem like no great feat of sacrifice, but I have been known to clutch my nearly empty (but not quite) wine glass away from looming waiters eager to clear a table, shouting "I need this to live!!" Some of you can relate, I'm sure.

It's been about 2 weeks now, and I'm getting used to it. I won't lie and say I like it. I don't. It's been pretty much miserable. Standing at parties surrounded by glasses of libation is like a roomful of bare necks to a vampire who has given up blood for no other reason than he wants to see what it feels like. I'm not saying I was a raging drunk, but I certainly had a nightly wine habit of no less than one, no more than three glasses. It was nice. I liked it. So why take away my comfy crutch?

Because a few positive things have happened. I sleep better (less trips to the loo in the middle of the night). I feel slimmer. I'm spending less money. Waking up is easier in the morning. I have a bit more energy.

And, whether or not this is positive or negative depends on your attitude: I have been forced to actually face my stress and fears. At the end of a rough day, there's no glass of dry, red therapy to relax in. There is, instead, dealing. Coping. Talking. Sometimes not sleeping at night.

But just like any muscle, your coping muscle only gets stronger with practice, and what seems like a lot of work at first gets easier over time.

I'm looking forward to breaking this fast.

But I'm looking forward to taking some of this learning with me back into my drinking life. Maybe my nightly habit will become a weekendly habit. I certainly won't welcome back the extra inch in my belly, the restless sleep and the sluggish mornings. So maybe I won't welcome back quite the quantity that I bade farewell to.

Behind the Wall

2010-01-31T07:51:00.001-08:00

There is a family. They have lived in the same apartment for a very long time. Their neighbors moved in about 7 1/2 years ago.

Some nights the shouting was impossibly loud. The banging. The young daughter came to the neighbors' door in tears to say that her brother was beating her mother.

The cops were called. And again.

Over the years, the shouting receded.

And then anew, different. Broken glass, and

A Silence That Chilled My Soul

The cops again.

The daughter is nearly a young woman now, and the mother's chronic illness makes it harder and harder for her to walk, though she always greets her neighbors with a cheerful voice and a smile so genuine it cannot be real.

In the elevator, another neighbor tells the news.

The son stepped off the roof last night after taking a bottle of pills.

If I had known years ago what I learned this week about NYC's social services and intervention programs for troubled families, I would have called a different number after 911. And again and again and again.

Maybe it would not have changed anything. But maybe it would have.

Please. If you hear the screaming. Call. 1-800-342-3720

Behind the Wall

Tracy Chapman

Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police
Always come late
If they come at all

Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police
Always come late
If they come at all

And when they arrive
They say they can't interfere
With domestic affairs
Between a man and his wife
And as they walk out the door
The tears well up in her eyes

Last night I heard the screaming
Then a silence that chilled my soul
Prayed that I was dreaming
When I saw the ambulance in the road

And the policeman said
"I'm here to keep the peace.
Will the crowd disperse?
I think we all could use some sleep."

Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police
Always come late
If they come at all

Mi nueva amor

2010-01-10T06:15:00.000-08:00

Christmas was super this year. Just the right amount of tension and drama, just the right amount of giggles and cookies, just the right amount of children and wrapping paper and Manheim Steamroller.

Adam got some of the coolest schwag, chief amongst the haul being this beauty:

And I don't know what came over me, but I decided that I MUST learn how to play it. So he taught me three chords, I learned 'Louie Louie,' and it was like the first freebie from a dealer. I practiced and practiced and a week later was haltingly able to do 'Puff the Magic Dragon.' Still working on 'Big Blue Frog' (by the way, if you ever buy a kazoo at Sam Ash, make sure you tell the shopkeeper that you don't need a bag. You'd rather keep it warm in your pocket so it won't go out of tune) and can more or less muddle my way through 'Walking on Sunshine.'

Within a week and a half I decided that it wasn't fair to Adam to keep hogging his instrument, and besides, I found it a little too massive for my as-yet untrained fingers (that's what she said). So I got one of my own.

World, meet Juanita:

She's a 3/4 size guitar. 'Fun Size,' if you will. And the fact that I can play 'Head Shoulders Knees and Toes' and 'If You're Happy and You Know It' made me a rock star to the kids at Hudson Guild. Wait till they hear me wail on 'Old MacDonald Had a Farm.'

Here she is next to Adam's behemoth:

Adam says we'd better not leave them alone too much or we'll come home to an apartment full of ukeleles.

Family Portrait

2009-12-11T04:20:00.000-08:00

Happy Holidays!!

Best. Thanksgiving. Ever.

2009-11-27T07:35:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETdwB_v1Pp4

It's cold and blustery outside

2009-11-13T12:35:00.000-08:00

And I'm delaying my outside errands by making this:

Sound System for Sale

2009-11-09T08:18:00.001-08:00

So, about a year and a half ago, the now-defunct Tuckaberry Productions spent about $3,000 on a sound system that we wound up using...oh...twice.

I have FINALLY gotten around to photographing and inventorying (is that a word?) it in order to get it the heck out of my apartment.

Items included are:

• 7 Telex Body Mics (like these) -- used.
• 6 Telex receivers (older version of this)--used
• 1 TOA Automixer 1000 Series (not operational—a savvy repairperson could probably figure out the kink.)--used
• 2 100-foot heavy duty orange extension cords—used TWICE
• 2 JBL EON 175 Watt speakers (like these)-- used TWICE
• 2 Samson speaker stands -- used TWICE
• 1 Samson wireless microphone NEVER USED
• 1 Samson MDR 10 channel stereo mixer --used TWICE

Before I go posting this on craigslist and opening myself up to all kinds of moneygram scammers, I wanted to see if any of my theater cohorts would be interested in buying the WHOLE SHEBANG for the LOW, LOW PRICE of $1,500.

I will happily open my home to anyone who would like to inspect and tinker with the toys. You can see a full photo spread HERE.

Please contact me with questions via blogger or facebook.

Last Day (sort of.)

2009-10-02T06:25:00.000-07:00

Well, it's officially my last day of office servitude, after three and a half years of willful resignation to zombiehood in exchange for money and health insurance.

I actually have failed miserably at unemployment, now having lined up 4 part-time jobs (in addition to my classes, school observations and volunteer hours at Brooklyn Boulders.) These are:

Saturday math test prep for 6th, 7th and 8th graders (4 hours a week)
Assistant Substitute Teacher for Hudson Guild's pre-K program (5 hours a week)
Substitute Teacher for Private and Charter Schools via School Professionals (hours: ???)
Occasional Temp and sub at my ex-job. (wait--what?!?)

I know. I know. But here's the thing. They still haven't got a replacement for me. And, you know, sometimes people go on vacation. Or sometimes things just get really hectic during earnings season. And sometimes I won't get called in to sub, and I'll really wish I had some extra dough. And these guys would hire a temp, someone who has no idea how to do any of the stuff around here that I know how to do. And, you know, as long as I'm available, need the money, and can stomach a day a week or so, I can't really turn down the offer.

So, erm, not only have I failed at unemployment, I kind of failed at quitting my job.

But failure never tasted so sweet.

A very slow escape

2009-09-01T13:29:00.000-07:00

So I interviewed with School Professionals on Monday, and I am now one of their (many? hopefully not too many!) substitute teachers being shopped out to NYC's charter and private schools. The pay is lower than the DOE, but not by much, actually. It wasn't the full-time insurance-providing job in education I was hoping for, but I think I might really like it. And apparently, subbing leads to full-time jobs pretty frequently, actually.

And I put in notice with my current job that October 2nd will be my last day. Why such a long notice, you ask?

Because A: our profit-sharing plan turns over quarterly, and it would be folly not to finish out a quarter if I have the opportunity. And B: it gets me closer to flu season, when I imagine subbing will begin to be 'lucrative' (e.g. we might be able to pay our electric bill with it).

And C: in spite of all the grumbling and griping I've done and in spite of the fact that I have no interest in this industry and I can barely stand the world of deskjobbery in any industry, much less finance....they've been really good to me here. They've paid me fairly, given me insurance and lunches, and were absurdly understanding through my whole health crisis last year. So as prison jobs go, this one wasn't so bad, really.

So. It's gonna be a crap shoot. We'll definitely pay through the nose for health insurance this year. And I'll definitely make nearly half what I make now, if not LESS. And Adam will definitely have to bear the brunt of the financial burden, and I will definitely have moments (possibly many of them strung together) when I will wonder if I shouldn't have just stayed at my dungeon desk job.

But I'm ready to take that risk. All for this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHYtYE8_bzU

Time Keeps Rolling on and Rearranging...

2009-08-19T05:36:00.000-07:00

They say major life changes tend to happen every seven years, but this one seems to have occurred on a prime number.

No notice has been placed officially, but I am starting to formulate a likely escape date, regardless of whether there's another job in place. Lots and lots of possibilities await: substitute teaching (brutal!), barista (I do make a mean cappuccino), dog-walking, tutoring, Macy's (discount!)...as long as we can make ends meet and pay for insurance through Adam's job (thanks, M.A.!) it's really just up to me.

And yes, if I had simply stayed in my first teaching job and gotten my master's degree right away then all of this would be so much easier. But it has come to my attention that I prefer to do things that are not easy. I would rather sew my own wedding gown, build my own furniture, bake my own bread and scale quartzite cliffs. For fun. So it should come as no surprise, really, that I've decided to take the rocky path on this hike.

And I wonder if, had I opted to take the path more traveled by, I would have tried any of the following:

Learning to knit
Picking wild blueberries
Dancing the salsa
Writing jazz lyrics
Skinny dipping
Wearing a chiffarobe
Aping a Gorilla for free drinks
Writing and producing musicals
Backpacking
Drawing a coloring book
Building a set
Writing a grant
Making a cappuccino
Eating heirloom tomatoes

So...yeah. I think it's fair to say I don't have any of...what do you call those things? Ah, yes. Regrets.

I do have fears, but I have never, ever regretted doing a thing that I was scared to do. So I'm going to keep on doing that. Things that scare me, that is.

Feel the fear and do it anyway.

Blame it on Cheer Bear.

2009-08-14T06:59:00.000-07:00

A month or so ago at the beach, I found myself wondering 'Say...I never see my own back, really. Wonder what that surgery scar looks like?' Bless the digital age. I snapped a photo.

Hmm. Not hideous. But kind of boring and a little ugly. I have a friend who theorizes that the generation who grew up playing with Care Bears and My Little Ponies has a bit of an obsession with emblems, as all of them carry personal images emblazoned on their rumps or bellies. So that may have influenced this (very long and well-thought out, I assure you) decision to 'make something' of the little line down the right side of my spine.

We've had a few days to get to know each other. I think his name is Herman.

Thanks to SGP for the design inspiration.

Thanks to Ryoko and Brooklyn Tattoo for the amazing work and service.

Tox, Detox, Retox, Re-Detox

2009-07-21T05:53:00.000-07:00

I love booze. And I love cake and television and chips and ice cream and internet celebrity gossip. And so on. And I am perfectly at peace with my love of these things, and I indulge in them because they bring me joy.

To an extent.

I mean, one glass of wine feels great. 4 gives me a headache, maybe a hangover. One piece of cake is awesome. Two results in a tummy ache. TV is great for an hour, maybe two. After that, I sort of sink into a zombified depression.

And yet, that hasn't stopped me from (not so long ago and not so infrequently) capping off a particularly soul-sucking day with several glasses of wine, a dinner of refined white flour, sugar, and cheese and a marathon of Firefly reruns.

I recently did a 2-week vegan detox. I meant to go for a month, but A: this body likes meat, just a little, to maintain my fitness level and B: I freaking wanted a freaking beer.

Which led me to ask: why? And don't get me wrong--I have no intentions of becoming a teetotaler or anything approximating it, but when I don't drink/smoke/eat garbage--I feel, you know, good. I seep well, wake up better, have a clearer mind all the time, don't wake up in the middle of the night with a sour tummy desperately trying to digest the cocktail of foodish substances I have offered it in place of real food... So what drives a person (say me, for example) to consume toxic input? What do I get from the experience of being drunk on food/booze/television?

Simple. It's self-anesthesiation. The mind is less clear, and therefore less able to sense unpleasant feelings. The flipside is that it's less able to sense pleasant feelings. So, you never really feel bliss, glee, joy. But you don't have to feel the ache, either. The conversion of brain to jelly is a self-defense against whatever it is in your life that makes it hard to wake up each day. And while I was briefly un-inebriated (and let me clarify, I am not nor have I ever been a "heavy" drinker. We're talking an average of 2 drinks a day. It's not a little, but it's not a lot) I became really, really, really hyper-aware of how spirit-crushing my zombie days are. And I became really, really, really hyper-aware of how happy and thrilling and joyful it is to use my body and brain in my free time. And I discovered that when my mind and body are given the opportunity to actually function, I like having a clear mind. But when I am enclosed in my concrete office prison, I nearly wish I were hung over. I nearly want to feel sick physically, because it will take my focus away from the fact that there is nothing else to focus on; it will prevent me from confronting the fact that I am unhappy.

I wonder if I don't have this in common with, well, the vast majority of the human race. I wonder if this is why 'Happy Hour' exists. I wonder if they should change the name to 'Numbing Hour.'

Well now that I've been so thoroughly depressing as to drive a person to drink, I'll end with a few choice photos from this past weekend when I went hiking in Harriman, which was awesome. Purely awesome.

"Ain't All It's Crack'd Up To Be"

2009-07-14T09:27:00.001-07:00

That is the name of this route (Peter's Kill, New Paltz, NY):

Now I don't know what it's cracked up to be, but it is a serious (expletive deleted)-ing son of a (expletive deleted).

It's "only" a 5.8, but for the love of Pete, it took me three tries just to get it started. I had to stand for five minutes just to make the ringing in my ears stop as the world spun back to normal in between each attempt. And by the time I got up to the tree I was considering un-eating my Lara bar from the exertion.

I did not un-eat the Lara bar, but neither did I finish the route.

Next time, 'Ear-Ring', 'Vomitorium,' my nemesis. Next time. You are mine.

Constance and ramblings.

2009-07-10T06:00:00.001-07:00

"The only constant in nature is change"

This is something I heard the other day on NPR regarding some Minnesota forests and their progression/rebirth after a devastating storm.

It's...pretty applicable. Warning: this one is rambly and personal and overly explanatory. It's the publicizing of some realizations I've been coming to over the past few weeks.

I spend the vast majority of my waking hours in a place where I am deeply unhappy, in spite of efforts to maintain a sort of inner bliss. And yes, I'm working on changing that, and progress is being made (three interviews so far--not bad!)

In the few hours I have which are mine, I feel a duty to myself to make sure that any and all activities are done in the interest of sheer joy and physical health. Things that used to occupy my 'spare time'--well--I've just lost interest in many of them. Sewing no longer appeals; it's very uncomfortable and involves a great deal of sitting. Theater (even watching it) no longer appeals, as, in the past, it has led me to a fair amount of psychological and physical distress. Anything that involves sitting around--which I do all day long--like chatting, eating, reading--just doesn't excite me these days. I need to get up, get going, do something.

Consequently, most of my social life is centered around exercise now. Mostly climbing. The moment I step out of the office and into the air, I am a different person. I am gleeful, giddy, determined, motivated. I still remember how it felt to be paralyzed with pain, and so moving is now my greatest source of joy. Conversely, when I sit and sit and sit and feel tighter and hurtier--it reminds me of my greatest sorrow. I realize that what I feel when I exercise is purely chemical. It's just endorphins and seratonin and other 'onins' 'orphins' and it's not the same as true happiness and I can't possibly sustain this joy, but it's something. And I feel strong and healthy and happy and alive. And I need that feeling to keep going every day.

The unfortunate side effect of this change, this deeply personal and necessary change, is that I see less of people I used to see more of. But when I do get to see them, the me they see is a happier, better person.

That's all. Thanks for sticking with me through my public therapy session. Peace and health and self-love to all you crazy hippies. For reals.

Grinding away

2009-06-29T13:25:00.000-07:00

I was not 5 minutes into the day before I had the classifieds up on my screen. I had briefly forgotten how utterly useless and brainwashed I felt in this chair during my two-week journey into interestinglifeland.

I don't think it's jinxing anything at this point to tell of the awesome interview I had on the day I flew away. It's a Teacher's Assistant position at Cooke Learning Center (a sort of private school-within-a-school for special needs middle school students) on the Upper West Side. I've never wanted so much a job that would pay so little.

I haven't heard from them yet, in spite of a thank-you postcard and a follow-up email (I will call tomorrow, just to be the biggest pest possible) but my high hopes are sinking into the glass-half-empty range.

I was amazed at how quickly I burned through two weeks worth of icanhascheezburger.com, gofugyourself.com, awkwardfamilyphotos.com...you get the idea. And I still managed to troll the classifieds and apply for one attractive job. And get some filing done.

But the thing is, when your primary purpose at a job is just to be there and you spend more time killing time than, you know, doing stuff, a life starts to feel wasted.

This life is feeling wasted. Going on three years now. It's not enough to just have a job, no matter how grateful I'm told I should be, considering the state of the world and all of its travails and blah blah blah blah. It's not enough. Not if the life you're supporting feels like it's being, well, wasted.

So craigslist is my homepage and my inbox gets checked even more. And I apply and wait and apply and wait and apply and wait.

Disoriented

2009-06-25T03:10:00.000-07:00

I have just returned from China. I love saying that. I have just returned from China. I'm two days back, and I'm almost re-acclamated to our time zone, but battling a bit of a cold. (No, it's not bird flu/swine flu/SARS.)

I'm sure most of you have seen this already:

And there are many, many, MANY more photos here: (still in the process of tagging and writing descriptions on them)

Seriously, we had an awesome time. We weren't able to get too adventurous with food, because within a week the whole group was taking immodium like daily candy, but we did play a bit of 'I wonder what was in that fried crispy thingy?' Guilin's mountains really do look exactly like the paintings, and the cliffs are begging to be climbed.

I got very good at conversing with elaborate pictionary/charades, and found that in some ways communicating without words is more honest than speaking. You can't hide behind your language to mask your true meaning, and it's a very humbling experience. That being said, I did learn a couple of important phrases: Good morning, Hello, Thank You, Beer, and of course Ping Pong.

If you've never considered China as a travel destination, I highly recommend it. The architecture and culture are so rich and ancient and fascinating, and at the same time the country is fast becoming the world's financial leader. The culture (whatever your judgements about its politics may be) is so fascinatingly different and everyone I met there was downright charming and kind and generous.

We had been dreaming about/planning this trip for years, and I can honestly say it lived up to and exceeded my expectations 100%.

My transformation into an insufferable idealist

2009-05-06T09:49:00.000-07:00

One of the advantages of my mind-numbing, soul-sucking, ass-growing job is that I have a ludicrous amount of time (I mean really ridiculous) to tool around on the web. I simply keep a spreadsheet minimized at all times for the gut-quivering moments when the chief comes whipping round the corner.

And while I admittedly spend a healthy (or unhealthy) amount of time on dlisted.com, gofugyourself.com, facebook and twitter, I find a few minutes here and there for some mind-expanding media. This has resulted in my exploration of: plastic food containers (terrifying), natural hair care (going really well, actually), lifehacking (great for cheap bike pimping ideas), vegetarianism (been down the road twice, considering another trip), holistic healing, nomadism, voluntary simplicity, permaculture, and neurology.

Actually, nomadism led me to neurology, via the blog http://www.cagefreefamily.com/.

This video of a brain scientist describing a first-person account of having a stroke is awe-inspiring. Okay, the snarky cynic in me instantly spouted "Hey, having a stroke sounds a lot like being high! Only, probably less fun." The ever-growing insufferable idealist granola hippie new-age freakazoid in me (who is now starting to get much bigger and more powerful than Snarky Cynic) was moved nearly to tears.

So I figured you all can get conflicted, too.

Aside: Here's where I get a lot of my freakazoid influence:

Visit My Crazy Sexy Life

This Time Last Year

2009-04-30T13:32:00.000-07:00

About 9 months ago (give or take), following several months of non-invasive and multi-pronged treatments, I had surgery on my spine to remove an extruded herniated disc. A lot has changed between then and now.

This time last year I lay on the floor by day and sleeplessly by night. My medical copays for PT, chiropractic and acupuncture eclipsed my weekly grocery tab.

This time last year I wept in pain to walk a hundred feet.

This time last year I dozed, dazed by narcotic medication.

This time last year I could stand just long enough to put a pot of water on the stove and then drop pasta into the gas as a shot of fire flew from my spine to my heel.

In the middle of the night I rose and stood, only to find my leg had lost the ability to carry me. In the middle of the sidewalk I hobbled from lamppost to signpost merely to stay erect.

Before this time last year I had very different ideas about who I was, what I wanted, and how this incapacity was keeping me from fulfilling my dreams.

Before this time last year I misguidedly believed that a body was a thing to use and use up. A thing to serve me, serve some greater purpose other than its own wellness. Before this time last year I had no time for me; there were more important tasks, appointments, achievements.

This is me, this time this year

climbing:

and hiking:

This is my bike, which I've ridden 160 miles in the past two weeks:

And this is what I like to pretend I look like when I take salsa dance classes:

And here's a funny thing: I'm a failed actress. A failed producer. I'm light years behind my peers at pursuing my master's degree for a career I ditched in pursuit of something 'bigger'. I hate my job and have just enough money to be comfortably poor.

And I think this is the happiest I've been my whole life. Because all of that is just trivialties. Just details. It will all come and go. This corpus is the one thing I get to have with me from birth to death and is the one thing which deserves my greatest love and brings me my greatest joy.

It's simple. It's not new, or earth-shattering. But this seemed like a good opportunity to step back and take stock of how lucky I feel and how glad I am to have a second chance at this kind of bliss.

I'll end by re-quoting my tweets from yesterday: a shout-out to my homey, Walt Whitman, who said all this way more pretty-like than I have.

I SING the Body electric;

The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;

They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,

And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the Soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves;

And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?

And if the body does not do as much as the Soul?

And if the body were not the Soul, what is the Soul?

The love of the Body of man or woman balks account—the body itself balks account;

That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect....

....The thin red jellies within you, or within me—the bones, and the marrow in the bones,

The exquisite realization of health;

O I say, these are not the parts and poems of the Body only, but of the Soul,

O I say now these are the Soul!

baking supplies and curlicues

2009-04-17T08:46:00.001-07:00

Okay. I'm not going to front. This is a blog about my hair. No deeper meaning, no revelations, no actual news. Just, you know, hair.

So I've been growing mine out (so far it's gone from 'short' to 'short', only slightly less so) and it's pretty tedious. But I've had short hair for a while, and I like to change it up. Unfortunately, short-to-long is awfully slow unless I want to drop a cool grand on extensions. Which I don't.

So how to pass the time?

Experiment.

Experiment #1: the No-Poo (I know. I thought it was some kind of reverse colonic at first.) See more here:

http://www.instructables.com/id/How-to-Go-No-Poo/

Now, I might come down with a big case of nasty dandruff or just get too slimy and cave, but no shampoo has touched these locks since Tuesday. I have washed it for every day four days with baking soda (condition with vinegar). (Yes, I realize that you're only supposed to wash a few times a week, but I work up a pretty gnarly sweat nearly every day biking. And climbing. And dancing and hiking. It must be washed. Often.) So far, I think the result is pretty great. The hair is soft, not oily, and holds a setting with no product whatsoever.

Which brings me to Experiment #2: pincurls.

I've been setting my hair at night (after the wash), as you see above. This fits nicely under the bike helment. Then in the morning (at work, if I ride) I pull out the pins.

Wow. Not so pretty. So I brush it out.

And maybe I leave it brushed out, so it's just all soft and wavy, or maybe I separate the curls with my fingers to make them more pronounced.

Whee! Fun with hair.

Yep. Seriously. That was the blog post.
.
.
.

Bluebell

2009-04-07T10:28:00.000-07:00

So just in case you hadn’t heard, I got a bike. I realize it is, you know, a bike. Lots of people have them, and I’ve had a few in my day. But I am ludicrously excited about this bike. In case you haven’t heard. I’m betting you have. I named her Bluebell.

Isn’t she lovely?

And today I took Bluebell all the way from Prospect Heights to Midtown Manhattan, over the Manhattan Bridge. Mind you, I got confused at the entrance and rode in a circle around Navy Yards, missing the entrance AGAIN and backtracking the wrong way off an onramp into oncoming vehicle traffic. Fun! Seriously, it was fun, in a sort of “I hope I don’t die today” kind of way. This is also when I noticed that the seat, having been adjusted (apparently not very well) by yours truly, began to slowly creep downward. Luckily, the great big lock chain was wrapped around the seat post or I would have been riding a clown bike by the time I got to work. It was annoying, but not incapacitating.

And it was so awesome!! Over the bridge on a crisp New York morning, right over the river! I was, of course, passed repeatedly by real cyclists on race bikes (you know, the kind who pedal even when they’re going downhill and wear spandex from head to toe) while I plodded along on my 12-speed at a Wicked-Witch-of-the-West-in-a-twister pace. But even with getting lost, going slow, and stopping twice in Chinatown to figure out where the heck FDR drive was (I wouldn’t recommend biking on it, actually. I’ll be going down the West Side tomorrow) I still got to work in just over an hour, which is almost how long the subway commute takes. And riding the subway doesn’t give me the feeling that I’m just the coolest kid in the world whizzing along on my beautiful Bluebell.

So, um, yeah. I think I’ll be taking my bike to work a whole lot. It’s kind of the greatest way to travel. Ever.

P.S.--I was accepted to Brooklyn College, aced the LAST and am starting in the fall, due to finish in three years and be teaching within two. But, did you hear that I got a bike?!!??!

The Waiting Place

2009-03-06T12:30:00.000-08:00

I've sent my application to Brooklyn College.

I've taken the Liberal Arts and Sciences Test.

Now I wait.

And while I wait, I sit for 45 hours a week here, behind the gentle glow of a monitor. Occasionally, my skills and knowledge are put to use to make copies, enter data, or dial a phone. Mostly I read celebrity blogs and slowly forget how to hold an actual conversation.

The thought of keeping this job for the three years it will require to complete my master's degree is one that closes my throat and squeezes my gut.

This is a very good time to NOT be looking for a new job, especially one which will probably pay less or have fewer benefits.

This is the bed I have made. I could have done things differently. It would have been easier, perhaps.

So here I sit for now.

Really, it's more comfortable than it looks.

plug pulled.

2009-02-02T11:43:00.000-08:00

I've been really very busy lately: as busy or more than as I was when I was running The Company. I've been climbing 2-3 times a week, swimming/walking/strength training as often, visiting family and friends, being visited by family and friends, and trying new things.

Like baking bread:

And making 'powerbars':

It turns out, like to cook.

And moreover, I like being the direct benefactor of my efforts. The food you see above this text? It went in my belly.

It's selfish. And I'm okay with that.

After our latest meeting (which took for-ever to schedule) The Company finally determined that, while most of the members are sorry to close the book on The Company, there simply aren't enough resources or interest to keep it up, and have decided to dissolve the incorporation.

I won't lie. I'm not sad at all. I processed my guilt and grief over a year ago when I first started contemplating my resignation.

I am relieved.

I will be more relieved with each prop, costume, and set piece gone from my home.

Even the best things must come to an end, and sometimes the end is the bestest of all.

The Cuteness

2009-01-13T10:02:00.001-08:00

The Husband and I visited The Nieces over New Year's weekend, at which time I gave them things I knitted to put on their heads (and hands),

This is one of the precious moments when niece number one was not mauling niece number two, and niece number two was miraculously keeping down her lunch.

Boxing day

2008-12-26T05:34:00.000-08:00

So I'm "working" today (translation: I'm here in case the phone rings, tooling around the interwebs and consuming jelly donuts to respect the miracle of the 8 days of oil--apparently they count as latkes).

But yesterday, thanks to the predominantly Christian NYSE rulemakers, I had the day off. A couple of friends came over, friends who, like me, decided that no matter how much they may love their actual family they would much prefer to visit at a time of year when travel isn't so tear-inducing. It was the ultimate no-stress Christmas, complete with friendfamily:

Reindeer games:

Dairy and Starch (bread pudding and spaetzle)

And gingerbread corpses:

Merry Christmas, Joyous Yule, Happy Hanukkah. Seriously.

Time to get (literally) hard core

2008-12-15T10:26:00.000-08:00

So I have these grand ideas of things I want to do in the next few years, including gobs of climbing and hiking, visiting China and possibly hiking the Appalachian trail/mountaineering in Patagonia.

The surgeon says: I see no reason why you can't do all of these things, as long as you make sure you're strong enough.

So. Now that every hour of my free time is not being absorbed by The Company, I need to make strengthening my corpus a major priority. About 10% of the time, I still feel the old pinch and an occasional shot down my leg, (The surgeon says That might just be there. Forever.) but if I 'engage my core' (yeesh. sounding like a freaking pilates teacher) I find the pain instantly lessens or even disappears. Of course, keeping this up for 10 city blocks is pretty exhausting, but that's coming from the voice of someone who (these days) gets winded climbing a set of stairs and grunts when she lifts a cast-iron pan.

It's funny the changes I've made since the operation. I finally understood that, yes, this is the only body I get this lifetime, and it's up to me to preserve it and care for it, because it has to last the whole lifetime. I started flossing. I started using the neti pot. I cut back the boozing/smoking/soda/cheese/white flour consumption. Busting my back made me appreciate my gums. And my sinuses. And my internal functions.

But I digress. Bottom line: I'm going for a climb on Wednesday at the CCC. In the meanttime, I'll be planking and bridging and crunching and hundred-ing as much as my little tummy can take.

Coming up for air

2008-12-04T07:31:00.001-08:00

So this is going to be a stupidly busy couple of weeks, for me and even more so for the husband. Holiday show (see details at http://www.tuckaberry.com/), Church performances (vespers, fundraiser, advent, blah blah blah), and husband's opera and simultaneous doctoral audition at NYU (pray to whatever deity you worship that this audition rocks, because the program at NYU was practically custom-made for him), then my application to CUNY for the master's program...

I'm very glad this will all be over with soon.

I'm very glad I'm not going to be directing this company any more.

I'm very glad that I will soon have time to hike, climb, dance? drum?

That being said, I'm very glad we're doing this show, because it really is wickedly funny and lovely. Husband is a fantastic Granny, and all the players bring a great deal of joy and creative hilarity to the production.

But I'll be very glad to put it all to bed and embrace a bit of peace and simplicity for a while before I start working on my master's degree.

By the way, the Neti Pot is kind of amazing. It's fussy and upsetting and a little bit painful, but I managed to wash away that sinus infection in a matter of days sans antibiotics. So I'm hooked.
.
.

It's a rambler

2008-11-26T11:21:00.000-08:00

Bits and pieces, odds and ends, knicks and knacks.

The PT says I can go for a "Light Climb" wOOt!!

I am now a card-carrying member of the Nasal Irrigation Club. After 6 years with no sinus infections, I seem to have developed a low-grade one. I met with the doctor who prescribed me Zithromax, but agreed that maybe we can still knock it out sans antibiotics. So I'm snorting Nasonex (which I can now only say with a 'Banderas' bumblebee accent) and have started using a Neti Pot. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neti_pot#Jala_neti (Tried to embed link. Reception computer blows.) It's as disturbing as you think it is, and it feels a little like drowning, but I think it might be helping? I don't feel magically healed or anything, but from what I hear, this is more of an 'apple a day' kind of preventative treatment. So the Zithromax sits dutifully on my dresser waiting to see if I get worse or better first.

Looking forward to my favorite disgustingly gluttonous holiday. Still have to roll out the crust.

Been doing a bit of window/online shopping, keeping an eye out for a possible holiday frock. With all the festive colors and lights one could wear, I see a sea of inky tops and dresses. Apparently, black is the new black. Sigh.

OMG I cannot wait to go climbing!

Bonus: Here's some overdue photos from Halloween:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/deessedechasse/sets/72157610135116945/

(Again, tried to embed. Did I mention that the reception computer BLOWS?)
.
.

Ch-ch-ch-cha-anges

2008-11-17T10:33:00.000-08:00

The mini-flu that's had me malaise-y seems to be petering out into a plain old sniffle now, which is nice. (which is niiiiice.)

So yesterday the Tuckaberry crew met to discuss the company's future sans moi as Managing Director, and I am pretty optimistic for its health and mine, actually. I made the decision to announce my resignation as of January 1, 2009 mostly for personal reasons, but it looks like doing so may be what's healthiest for the company as well. I feel that whoever takes on the title I'm shedding is going to do a much better job of spreading the responsibility, and that's exactly what a real company should be. So I feel good, really good about this move altogether.

And I have started gathering all the bits and pieces necessary for my application to Brooklyn College's Early Childhood Education Program. I feel really good about that too. I'm not fooling myself into thinking that this is an 'easy' option or a 'safe job.' I taught for two years and I remember clearly the after-school tutoring sessions, the meetings with angry parents, the dealings with prickly principals, the standardized test preparation, the chalky fingers, and the sinus infections. Oh, god, the sinus infections. But I think of teaching as an old boyfriend I broke up with because--I was too young, unready for the commitment. And I've changed, and he's changed (he used to be 7th and 8th grade French and Spanish) and I'd like to give our affair another go. I know what the odds are that we'll break up again. But anything worth doing is worth taking a risk for.

So the brain larvae have grown into full-on grubs now, and I'm really looking forward to the future for the first time in a long time. I'm having visual fantasies of paste in my hair and child vomit on my skirt. And that makes me smiley.

And in the more immediate future, I'm looking forward to weekends and evenings belonging to me. I'm looking forward to swims at the rec center and climbs at the gym, hikes in New Paltz and visits to my nieces. I'm looking forward to reading and knitting and sewing something that might get worn in public, rather than on stage. I'm looking forward to auditioning for something this spring. Who knows what or where, but something, maybe. And maybe not. The strings are finally loose, ready for me to tie down or let fly.

blech.

2008-11-12T08:08:00.001-08:00

Some good advice

2008-11-11T10:01:00.000-08:00

So I've been doing really well. Absurdly well. Much weller than I ever anticipated.

But now I feel kind of fluish, run-down, achy all over tired, etc., etc., etc.

And I briefly entertained the idea that I might be 'coming down' with fibromyalgia. This was banished from my mind by a wise friend and re-named 'hypochondria.'

Here was her advice (the short version.)

Here's what happened:
You had surgery.
You felt much better.
You started to work out, hang out and generally be out.
You went out, all-out, too soon and too much.
Y our body was still recovering, even though you felt better, and because of its low resistance, you might be getting a cold.
Or, body backlash telling you to REST.

AS IN,NO GOING TO THE GYM - it takes too much out of your recovering body.

NO HANGING OUT WITH PEOPLE - they have germs and your body can't fight them and recover from MAJOR surgery at the same time.

NO RUNNING AROUND SHOPPING - shopping has germs and remember: your body can't fight them and recover from MAJOR surgery at the same time!

I think she's probably right.

So if you don't see me for a week, don't be mad.

But really, I'm doing very well!

The line was loooooong.

2008-11-04T07:12:00.000-08:00

But I called in to work with my new phone (new phone! Fun!) and said I'd be late.

Apparently, this election is kind of important to some people or something. Whatevs. It's not like I've been sleeping poorly, am breaking out, and am completely distracted and on pins and needles until it's called tonight.

Okay, yes I am. So let's take a moment and focus on way more important issues:

The male mannequins at the 42nd street H&M were naked this morning. What bulges!
The Japanese are cloning frozen mice: LINK
The vending machine at Brooklyn College ate my 65 cents and kept its Sunchips. CUNY owes me big time.
A rare form of red butterfly/human hybrid has been discovered: LINK

Well, that's all the news from Lake Wobegone. Hope I could distract you from your nail-biting for a moment or two. Happy election day!!

the word "layoffs" was mentioned at work today

2008-10-24T13:58:00.000-07:00

And so here I am facing the reality that in the past six months the prospect of forming a company and a career based on donations, grants, and discretionary school funding may be more than 'risky' and 'difficult' and may actually be 'impossible.' The way things have gone, worldwide, countrywide, and the way they're continuing to go (regardless of who our next president is or the president after that) it's going to take an awfully long time to see things, monetarily speaking, back the way they were when small arts groups could find funding relatively easily, back when the NEA wasn't smaller than the budget for the Met.

So I'm starting to toy with a total 180, in the truest sense of the word. As in, turning right back to where I turned from before my non-renewable teaching certificate expired.

I'm thinking about applying for my master's to gain a permanent teaching certification, (I am NOT eligible for the fellowship program since I once held a certification and minored in education) but not to return as a middle-school French teacher. I'm seriously considering early childhood education: kindergarten, first grade, etc. You know, before they've stopped caring about learning entirely.

I don't know. This is all just...larval brain matter. Perhaps my brain is even simply infested with larvae. I don't know what they did during surgery...

Tomorrow I may want to be a detective.

But I am now reaching an age where I've got to pick something that will last. And that will support babies. Because that is kind of next on the to-do list.

Lessons learned.

2008-10-07T07:15:00.000-07:00

So there are people in this world--many, many people who are much younger than me. And these people are diagnosed daily with all kinds of awful, life-robbing illnesses and conditions. Cancer, MS, Diabetes, CF, the list goes on. And these people have done nothing to bring these illnesses on themselves. They just got un-lucky.

So for those of us who have a modicum of control over our health, who can prevent injury/illness by, say, eating well, excercising, taking time to rest and breathe and love and heal every day: we're pretty freaking blessed.

And for those of us who brought a painful condition (however minor or common or easily treated) upon ourselves through years of bad behavior and who get a second chance at a healthy life, that blessing becomes really clear.

Suddenly that ONE THING that was keeping me from doing ALL THOSE THINGS that would make me "really happy" is finally (hopefully) really really fixed. And now ALL THOSE THINGS are within my reach...and none of them seems as desperately important any more. The urgency of my twenties seems to have gotten sucked out with the hernation. I'm not in such a hurry to: have a baby, become self-employed, put on that next show, write the next great children's musical, immortalize myself in my work. Because, in a way, ALL THOSE THINGS were, perhaps, the things that were keeping me from being "really happy."

That's not to say I don't want those things anymore, but I'm not starving, not rushing, not desperately needing them.

I'm taking my time now. Because "really happy" can be sipping a beer over cards or petting my cat. "Really happy" can be washing a dish. "Really happy" can be a cookie. For breakfast, maybe. It can also be writing and working and growing The Company and getting our own space and having babies. But it is not exclusively those things.

I owe it to this spine to take my time. To take care. To enjoy my thirties in a way that I didn't appreciate in my twenties. Because I've got to make this back last for a really, really, really long time--long after The Company has toured the world, long after my plays have been sung and danced and spoken, long after I've worked a thousand more crappy jobs, long after babies have grown and gone. And during that time, I want to appreciate the health and the body I've got, because I don't have a horrible life-threatening disease, I do have control over my health, and because I am really freaking blessed.

The short version

2008-10-03T06:57:00.000-07:00

The surgery was a success and I'm healing nicely.

Okay, now for the less short version (though still pretty reduced--most have you have heard it already and I'm only supposed to sit for 15 minutes at a time.)

The back pain is less intense than a bad day before the operation. Score!
If you ask a nurse for Tylenol, they give you Percoset.
Percoset comes with hallucinations.
Anesthesia leaves a week-long hangover. Avoid potatoes for a few days.
I think Anesthesiologists get into that line of work just to hear the stoner things patients say when they're waking up.
Hospital beds suck.
Hospital food sucks.
The care at Roosevelt is top-notch. Very attentive and friendly and considerate. I only had one sullen nurse the whole time, and she just seemed sad, mostly.
My roomate was a violin instructor at Julliard. She owns a Smarte Car.
Next time I stay at a hospital, I'd better be coming home with a baby.

Thanks to all my friends for calling, visiting, at watching the drinking game--er--debate with me. Jury's still out if that was good or bad for my state of health, but it was pretty irresistable.

Tomorrow.

2008-09-29T05:22:00.000-07:00

I'll be having the offending goo removed from betwixt my spinal nerves. Here's hoping.

Existence is a toddler's memory

2008-09-23T09:59:00.000-07:00

Niece Number One remembers me! When we talked on the phone last night, she even asked me when I was coming to visit! It is a banner day! We talked about the pumpkin bread she helped mix, the hay ride she went on, the boo boo on my back (I apparently lost her at 'general anesthesia' and 'microdiscectomy'), her new hair cut, and the fact that she has graduated to drinking from a Big Girl Cup:

Which confirms the fact that a 2 and a half year old has better motor skills than I do.

blather blather blather

2008-09-22T08:00:00.000-07:00

This weekend was a mix of fun and frustration. Friday night I was supposed to go to the birthday party of one of my oldest friends. Oldest as in I've known him forever, not as in geriatric. Well, there's a bit of that, as he was turning thirty. Friday afternoon was rough, back-pain-wise, and I hoped that a bath and a few hours of lie-down would have me in good enough shape to pop down for a glass of something.

It wasn't. A half-block from the apartment, I was limping so slowly that I knew there was no way I could make the 10-block walk to the bar. I called to say I wouldn't be coming.

That night a Vicodin tablet took me to the happy place and I woke up feeling a good deal better, and we went on with our plans to attend the renaissance faire in Tuxedo, NY (photos to be posted later, when I have the camera and cord handy). It was fun. By the end of the day, however, as standing became more excruciating, I reached in my purse for another happy pill only to discover that I had lost it along with a friend's pair of glasses. Fortunately, it was almost time to go, and she has contact lenses so it wasn't a complete disaster. I got my pill soon enough, and we'll just have to buy her some new specs.

Sunday was pretty rough, as was to be expected, and singing again proved surprisingly painful. Another happy pill got me through the service (that's three in as many days, for those of you who are counting.) I spent the rest of the afternoon napping and lying down.

That's what I do a lot of these days. Lie down. It's getting old. It's getting frustrating. I'm getting fatter and fatter and more and more interested in sedating myself with television and cheese and barbituates/muscle relaxers/narcotics to pass the time because to lie down for hours and hours with all of your wits about you is enough to drive a person mad. And my apartment is filthy. Not just messy or a little dirty, but filthy. I lie on the floor surrounded by clutter and crap and dust and squalor and I can't do a damn thing to make it or me better and I've been this way for weeks, since the cortisone shot began to fade. And yes, there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and the surgery is soon (next week, followed by more weeks of lying down, deepening filth and squalor that I can do nothing about, and increasing fatness) and by this time next year I may be better than I've been in ages, climbing again, boxing again, dancing again, (thin again?) but that doesn't change what it's been, what it is and what it's continuing to be for the next several weeks or so.

So if I've been a negligent friend, or if I bail on your party, or if when you come over all I want to do is watch 'Ghost Whisperer' and pour Baby Dels, Valium, and Gato Negro down my gullet, please know that it's not you. It's me. Really. And there is a light. It's just a ways away still.

Fears

2008-09-12T08:49:00.000-07:00

I has them.

Here is one.

But Copyrighted New Yorker comics which cannot be embedded in this blog aside, I am re-visiting the same old conflict. I am currently terrified of the following prospects:

Never having the courage/financial wellness to leave the corporate world
Leaving the corporate world and plunging into actual poverty--not just "I can't afford a new bra this week; it will have to wait till paycheck time"--but lease-eviction, food-scraps-scavenging poverty.
Quitting this job only to realize how much I really liked it and never appreciated it.
Quitting this job to run The Company full-time only to discover that I don't really like it all that much.
Letting down my family by plunging myself into poverty.
Letting down my friends by failing/abandoning The Company.
Letting down me by never figuring out how to be happy.
Getting really, really, really fat.
Falling Elevators.

Well, that about covers it. What fears do you has?

Sometimes I knit things.

2008-09-11T07:13:00.000-07:00

Here is a thing I knitted for a baby.

And here is said baby wearing said knitted items.

Maybe by the time she's fourteen I'll find time to knit her something else.

Igloo, my ass.

2008-09-10T16:21:00.001-07:00

Q: What happens to your back if you use one of these to ice it?

Proof positive that it is, in fact, possible to literally chap your ass. Er... lower back, that is.

Moving Day

2008-09-09T05:33:00.000-07:00

That's it. Friendster changed my blog URL, Myspace is a ghost town, and it's time to separate the girl from the theater company. So. Foxes and Bunnies and Chipmunks and such will still populate dametuckaberry's livejournal blog, but all the ranting and raging against The Man (and The Herniation) will be here.

So here I am now. I am here. I am.