I need a break....

When I moved into my new place the property manager gave me a mailbox key that;

a) doesn’t look like a mailbox key, and
b) certainly isn’t MY mailbox key

So I need a mailbox key. Note I’ve been living there since mid-September without receiving any mail – both a blessing and a curse. My motivation for getting into the mailbox right now is that I’m expecting my speeding ticket from Tehama County as well as the registration paperwork for my little hoopty. So I’ve contacted the property manager, who despite my protestations, INSISTS that the key I have IS the mailbox key. Sigh. Screw it. So I go to the post office and find out that I can obtain a replacement key for a mere $30. Geez, is it diamond-dusted, sapphire-studded, what? So I left the post office without the key and have mentally wrestled with this dilemma for the last few days. If my mailbox was broken into, the post office would replace it for free. So this bounces around my mind for a few days. After all, I have screwdrivers and hammers! Again sigh! I am not gangster enough to do this. So I’ve elected to pay the damn $30 and get my key BUT, I’m attaching the receipt to my next rent check and taking the deduction. They can sue me.

For the last week and a half my very good bud and fellow MBoB Stubert and I have being consulting at a local high school trying to add some punch to an otherwise struggling guard program. It’s exasperating! There is such a gap between the kids who get it and the kids who just don’t care if they get it that it’s been tremendously difficult to really make a difference. We gave them a new beginning and a new ending, a small part in the middle that’s new and Stu gave them some cool “clockwork” for the ID line. We ran it a few times last night for the last time and it looked pretty good from a design stand point. Now it’s all on the students and their commitment level. They have the opportunity to up their score. I hope this last performance is their best of the season.

Added to last night’s festivities … I met one of the guard member’s moms. I hate meeting moms, aunts, dads, grandmas, second cousins, friends of your grandfather’s chiropractor, etc. It’s universally NEVER a good experience when one of them simply walks up to you in the middle of a rehearsal with their hands on their hips – which is what happened last night. Long story short – mom was hot because I refused to put her daughter (who had just shown up for the first time) into the routine in the last 45 minutes of our FINAL rehearsal. Imagine that. What right-thinking guard instructor WOULDN’T wanna’ put in a kid who skipped 2.5 of 3 rehearsals? In the end, I had talked mom (and the aunt) down from their high horse by pointing out that it wasn’t possible to teach a routine to someone who isn’t there to learn it and drove home the point that I am not putting her daughter in … period. She started in on a litany about the “horrible” band director and I told her that wasn’t part of my gig and she needed to take it up with him. Today and all the days after this, the band director can do what he wants but I did tell mom that if she pressured the band director into including her daughter, that her daughter would NOT be up to the challenge and WOULD ruin the performance for everyone who HAD come to rehearsal and learned the routine the way they were supposed to. She understood that and agreed … but I’ll bet that doesn’t change a thing. Some people just don’t get it.

After rehearsal last night Stubert and I went to the Kaiser Hospital in South Sac to visit fellow MBoB Andy, who is recuperating from meningitis caused because he took a “vacation” from his regular meds. Sheesh. As soon as he’s well we’re all kicking his ass. Anyhoo, Andy is covered in red spots (a reaction to his current meds) and running a temp but seems otherwise to be doing well. We watched the final episode of “Dancing with the Stars” together and chatted for awhile finally leaving around 10:00. I thought I knew how to get home but got lost as soon as I left the Kaiser parking lot and turned the wrong way ending up on the other side of the freeway. I am not the one to be judging anyone else’s spatial relationships because sometimes I can’t find my own ass without both hands and a blood hound. Geez!

Tonight is the last rehearsal of the marching season. Finally. My 5 little Woodchucks have done a very good job this season and have improved exponentially. I’m very proud of them. I won’t be at their last performance because I’ll be judging in Stockton, but I have no worries. They’re well prepared and well rehearsed and as long as they hold it together mentally they should have a very good last show. I truly don’t care about the number, but I admit I would like them to rank really well. Speaking as a judge in that circuit, I think their ability and design deserve it.

With at least three weeks off from teaching and the Thanksgiving holiday on the horizon I’m looking forward to some sleepy winter evenings at home. Teaching four nights a week really sucks and I’m glad that’s over!

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Synchronized Desk Dancing … 5,6,7,8

I have a car !!!!

Sound the trumpets, damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead. It’s not my heart’s desire as cars go and yet it’s exactly perfect … well except for the humongous “Harley Davidson” sticker in the back window (which I may elect to simply leave on because I like the consternation it may cause other drivers and who knows, it may have the added bonus of them giving me a wide berth – after all I may be a Hell’s Angel on the creep right? – don’t mess with me!). At the very least, anyone who sees it will suspect me of wearing leather … or being leather-wearing capable. Anyhoo, it’s an escort wagon, it’s clean, it’s silvery blue, it’s in pretty good shape and because it’s a wagon I finally have enough room to carry ALL my guard stuff the year I’ve decided to finally retire (and there’s God’s wacky sense of humor at work again). I’ve named my new little car Hoo-Ha. I have no explanation for this, it just fits and I have a habit of naming inanimate objects -- my TV remotes are named The Big Kahuna and Momo respectively. I hope Hoo-Ha lives a long, long time.

On Saturday I left the house at dark o’clock and made the three hour drive down to Madera where I judged a parade and a field show. It was raining and thoughts of Rochester kept running through my mind. I will say that rain and wind make a judge’s job really easy because it quickly separates the big kids from the little kids. Those with training and composure do a really good job of pushing through … the others get exasperated and just give up ... you see it in their faces first, then their carriage and then the work just stops and finally they walk like pedestrians through the rest of the zone. It confirms my belief that training is the most important aspect of guard. One of the other judges and I killed the lag time between parade and field by camping out in a booth at McDonald’s where no topic was sacred and we gossiped about everyone we know mutually. Good fun. By Saturday night the rain had stopped but the wind had picked up significantly. Flagwork was a special challenge and a lot of equipment hit the ground. I rewarded those who heroically pushed through it knowing that heroes are created via good training and development of technique … and I’d rather see a bad catch then a nice recovery any day. The day finally came to an end at 9pm and I beat it out of there to get the long drive home started – I had to stop and nap twice and had to drink a lot of coffee but I finally made it. Next time (which if I have even a single ounce of active brain matter there won’t be one) I’ll get a hotel room.

Sunday was a lazy day. We slept in til 10:00 then went to IHOP for breakfast. Afterwards we stopped by Home Depot to choose a new (and yet to be installed) shower massage – mainly so we can wash Teddy (who hasn’t had a bath since his last “vacation”). I had no idea there was such width in the shower massage market and such a wide variance in the amount of money one can spend on a shower massage and I quickly felt overwhelmed. After an hour of negotiation we compromised and settled on a $40 4-position shower massage. Overcoming the always serious challenge of self-check out (which I despise), we went home and discovered we suddenly needed a nap. I love naps! And I think I will love the new shower massage. Around 4:00, I headed out to my friend Stu’s house to hook up with him and some other guard folks to go over some “conceptual” winterguard ideas. I have a pretty good idea of what I want to do with one of the shows. It’s “been done” but not by me and not in this circuit. It’s an idea I can’t get out of my head so I’m going to try to it. It was hard listening to music for four different guards, of varying skill levels, at the same time but I think by the end of the evening we had sorted out at least one school’s music and had several solid ideas for at least two others. It was fun times just getting our guard geekiness on with GREAT pizza as a bonus.

The coming weekend will be another busy guard weekend and the last one of this marching season. I’ll be at the Lincoln/Stockton show on Saturday and then for Sunday I have plans to attend an MBoB reunion and go be a spectator at WBA finals where I’ll get a chance to see some of the better Cali bands just for the fun of it.

Next on the agenda … a driver’s license !!

Husbands are like having raccoons in your chimney ...

In 1983, my then-husband and I bought our first house. It was a substantial 1770 sf 4/2 in a cul-de-sac. We got it relatively cheap because it was in Union City which at the time was the armpit of the Bay Area (and might still be, I dunno’). Our house was in a nice neighborhood in the very last row of our tract and backed up to the road that ran in front of Coyote Hills Regional Park, which is situated right on the edge of the bay at the Dumbarton Bridge. Also along that road was Turk Island Dump. The incongruity of a park and a dump being neighbors always left me scratching my head in curiosity. Anyway, as a consequence of these two places running for miles along the back of our tract, we had a variety of critters in our neighborhood; possums, beavers, raccoons, giant rats and potato bugs. I was always finding reasons to shudder with the willies!

There was a particularly endearing family of raccoons that accessed the cul-de-sac via the street drain and they were a curious bunch always getting into garages, garbage cans and open cars. Really annoying little raiders but we thought they were cute … well, right up until we saw one of them kill a cat that is. The biggest of the bunch stood about three feet tall and was pretty intimidating to run into in the dark.

We lived there about 6 years and during that time I had a friend and neighbor named Yolie we haven't seen each other in years but our boys were best friends then. She and her husband were like Mrs. Winchester, they just kept adding onto their little house over the years until it was a big rambling rabbit warren of living areas, dining areas, a country kitchen, and bedrooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom – and that was just on the first floor. Yolie had a formal living room decorated all in a creamy white – carpets, upholstery, throw pillows – it was like a roomful of marshmallow cream.

One weekend when they were away the raccoon family entered Yolie’s house via the chimney in her formal living room. You wouldn’t think a raccoon would fit but he did and he left literally thousands of little black paw prints all over her lovely marshmallow room and the entire downstairs. My family moved away shortly after that but we stayed in touch over the years and so I know that once the raccoons had found a way to break in, they just kept coming, pilfering the cookie jar and having parties in the pantry. Yolie and her husband tried everything including various screens and grates and finally at their wits end, even animal control but they wouldn’t help and nothing worked and the little raiders kept making themselves at home. One October evening I attended a Princess House crystal party at Yolie's. There were about 8 of us at the party all chatting and nibbling when we heard the scratching and clawing of what was clearly an animal in the flue. Yolie called her husband and he had the bright idea that if he would started a fire it would chase the raccoon back up the chimney -- instead what happened is that the embers from the wood caught the fur of what were two raccoons in the chimney on fire – they came crashing down the flue as spectacular balls of flame landing on the logs and scattering them everywhere then running through the rabbit warren of a house, up the curtains, on top of furniture, under tables, blazing infernos of smelly, burning fur. I don’t remember if the raccoons were screaming or if it was just all of us. It seemed to go on forever with everyone running and screaming. The smaller of the two racoons found his way out by running directly through the screen of Yolie’s open kitchen door and into the night. The largest finally collapsed in a smoldering heap in the dining room where Yolie’s husband threw a nearby rag rug on him and put out the remaining flames. We all just stood there holding each other and sobbing, surrounded by random bits of flaming objects. What had been just an annoyance was now a full on disaster that finally got Animal Control motivated. In a totally unrelated outcome I never saw Yolie after that night. We just lived too far away from each other. A few months after that party my husband and I separateded. It’s irrational I know but I somehow relate my marriage ending to that night of flaming raccoons.

I think husbands might actually be like having raccoons in your chimney. They can be cute and cuddly or annoying as hell, but if you make a fleeting decision you can be left with nothing but a flurry of random burning objects.

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Argh!

It’s wet and rainy today and it would be nice to be home this morning curled up with a book and some raisin oatmeal. But I have bills and so I’m here, ever chasing the paycheck, surrounded by paper that I simply MUST find a way to shuffle onto someone else’s desk. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle … and try to look important. I arrived at work today really happy and raring to go but there are contractors here doing tenant improvement work on one of the nearby suites … again … and they’ve been testing the fire alarm system this morning … again. This happens here a lot. There are many suites and tenant turn over is high so there is a constant parade of contractors conducting all manner of tenant improvement work … and, unhappily, fire alarm testing. One day we will have an actual fire here and simply all just burn to death in our color-coordinated, ergonomically correct office chairs because we’ve been trained to ignore the fire alarm. So about every 7 minutes or so since 8:00 this morning the eardrum shattering (and actually frightening) fire alarm has kicked on. Everytime it goes off it kicks my fight or flight instincts into high gear and I nearly jump out of my skin. It’s only 8:40 and I have already been replaced by an angry crouching tiger who is sitting at my desk ready to rip out the throat of anyone unlucky enough to darken the doorway. This is not a good thing <$1 to Martha’s Stewart’s evil doppleganger>. I now understand why people used to keep a bottle of whiskey hidden in their desk drawer. Down with political correctness – bring whiskey back to the workplace! I believe I will venture over to the lunchroom and chow down on some Tylenol in an attempt to avoid a life spent in prison for murder.

The weekend in review ...

It’s Tuesday and someone has stealthily brought a ginormous bag of their left over Halloween candy into my office and put it on my desk. It’s obviously someone who hates me! I am not that strong. Tootsie Rolls and coffee … the new breakfast of champions!

The weekend was alternately busy and lazy. On Saturday I was up early to go to Lodi to judge the Grape Bowl Classic. It was a tremendously long and damp day with the weather bringing back Hurricane Ernesto memories. I had very good company in the box this weekend though and so the time went pretty quickly. I never know what to do with myself in the downtime between parade and field but Saturday I went with Christy (director at Santa Cruz) and Elsie (tabulator and everyone’s band mom) to a yarn shop in Lodi. They both knit and I don’t so I expected to be extremely bored. Instead I wanna’ learn how to knit! The yarns available are astonishing and it would be a GREAT way to pass the time commuting. I can’t wait to get started. We got back to the show with only about 30 minutes to kill before go time. The yarn shop was a great diversion. Thanks Christy, it was a great idea!

The field show started at 4:00 and I have to say, I was both stunned and disappointed to be looking at incomplete field shows this late in the season. Come on folks! There’s only two weeks left! You’re only giving your kids a chance to perform their complete show ONE TIME. I hate it when that happens to me and you would too, so don’t do it to your kids. As a performer you never get the chance to really own your show and maximize your performance if you only get to do it ONCE. Ok, now disembarking from soap box.

This was actually my third judging gig this season and it was very satisfying to see the improvements that some of the units have made over the course of the season. My numbers and rankings were vastly different from the other judge’s this weekend and so I’m avoiding going on www.worldofpageantry.com in order not to see who is blasting me for my opinions, lack of training and general lack of brain cells. Sigh. And yet, being a morbidly curious creature I know I’ll give in and log on at some point today. I stand by my numbers though cuz I know what I saw. Folsom was also this weekend and is a much bigger and more popular show … so maybe that will take the focus. Hope springs eternal.

I spent Saturday night with my youngest son and his girlfriend celebrating his 25th birthday at the local pub. We ordered one of every kind of appetizer on the menu and had several pitchers of beer and two marathon games of “couples” pool. It was a very good time and I really needed that down time.

On Sunday morning I awoke to an unpleasant surprise … again. My cat Motown has taken to peeing directly on me (and subsequently my bed) while I sleep and, in his estimation, am not giving him proper cuddle time when he wants it at 3 a.m. He has a box so it’s not a matter of Mother Nature calling. Trust me, Mo intends for me to understand that it’s a reflection of his opinion on me and my stupid need to sleep when he wants to be petted. A week of sleeping in the garage will hopefully cure this rowdy cat. Later on Sunday I ventured out shopping for the first time in months and went to WalMart (cuz if they don’t have it there, you don’t need it) to outfit myself for my new commuter adventures by buying a new coat among other things. It’s very girly and soft and totally impractical and it reminds me of the coats my mother bought for me when I was in grade school … so of course I love it. I was so warm and cozy in it this morning that I fell asleep on the bus and nearly missed my stop. Oops. I spent the rest of Sunday puttering around, cleaning and organizing and otherwise nest building. I think it’s the change in the weather but I’m enjoying my at home time. I want to break out the sewing machine or bake something … egad!

This coming Saturday I’ll be journeying to Madera – which I fondly refer to as one of God’s forsaken territories -- it’s about a 3 hour drive for me and I may elect to spend the night so maybe there’s an adventure in the offing.

I need to get rid of this bag of candy. Let me think (taps skull) who do I hate ...

Musings and Meditations

I wish I’d met my great grandparents. My entire knowledge of them consists of knowing that my father’s mother’s mother was an evil woman of epic proportions and wife to my father’s mother’s father who was by all accounts a very tall and practically saintly man (humph! I wonder for I think he's probably at least marginally responsible for his wife’s evilness in some way), that my father’s father’s mother was an aunt to Thomas Edison and my mother’s mother’s mother died during the great influenza epidemic of 1918 causing her children to be scattered to the four winds. It’s just not enough information to satisfy my curiosity. I realize I was lucky to even know my grandparents.



I wonder what all of them would think of the world today!




My maternal grandparents (Robert Elmer Gilmore and Dollie Nellie Huston), my grandfather in particular, were forward thinking people. My grandfather proudly babied my grandmother with whatever the latest technology was. In the mid-60’s they had a color TV, a steam iron, a double electric oven (in which my grandmother, who seriously couldn’t cook her way out of a wet paper bag, thought everything should be cooked on “broil” with disastrous results and on numerous occasions), a matched washer and dryer set and a house furnished in whatever was the current trend and colors. I remember thinking as a kid that they had a house like those you see on TV furnished with all the things people won on “The Newlywed Game”. My grandfather was an entrepreneurial guy who started his own cab company in Yuba City in about 1945 with my grandmother as dispatcher out of an office they set up in their own dining room. They ably provided a solid middle class lifestyle for their family – pretty good for a couple of itinerate farm kids out of the Oklahoma dust bowl. I think my maternal grandfather, a writer and poet, a chess and checkers lover fluent in two other self-taught languages, would embrace video technology and take pleasure in having an MP3 player and cell phone in his pocket. My grandmother was a fiend for Avon products and would have loved laser technology and Botox for her wrinkles.

My fraternal grandparents (John Arthur Roy and Helen Marguerite Palmer) were about a decade older and so a bit more old school(for lack of a better word). They raised seven children in Michigan through the height of the Great Depression. My grandfather was career Navy (Chief Petty Officer) and a 33rd degree mason who valued savings accounts and education -- even in the bathroom cuz why waste time just sitting there, right? He lied about his age to get into the Navy during World War I and at points he was a mason, a prison work camp warden, a building inspector for the Veteran’s Administration and an all around hard-ass and self-educated man. I think he’d be fascinated by the educational opportunities and the wisdom-at-your-fingertips aspects of the internet as well as Craigslist and EBay for he was big on making do and buying second hand. My grandmother took great pleasure in sneaking a smoke (because they both gave it up sometime in 1950s), handing out quarters to her grandkids (all 25 of ‘em) and going to the movies behind my grandfather’s back. She would “diet” but was constantly taking us kids for a nickel cone or donut holes or (gasp) out for strawberry shortcake. She worked in a government office during WWII in a highly responsible but very secret capacity that I never did get the whole story on. Her dressing table with all of its potions and lotions was a wealth of mystery to me and provided me with endless hours of entertainment and sometimes mischief. She was a big time reader and nail biter … and as I write this it occurs to me that I must take after her. From what I remember about her, I think she’d be fascinated by microwaves, cuisinarts, and diaper genies, acrylic nails, progressive lenses, Nicotine gum, one-dose yeast infection cures, the morning after pill and gymnasiums designed exclusively for women. She was the first to pass away. I lost her the same winter I discovered drum corps – I was 12 and in the 8th grade. Her funeral was the first time I ever saw my father cry. I know my mother loved her as much or more than she did her own mother.

I find all them drifting through my meditations. Often my thoughts of them are clouded with regret --- you know, the I should haves and I could haves. I wish I’d been cognizant enough to have taken the time to know them better and appreciate them more and to learn more from them about them … and about me. Or that they’d left behind some kind of written history for me … hmmmm ... like a blog.




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Stop and smell the ........ garbage?

Being recently unhorsed … if that’s even a word … I’m doing a lot of walking and using public transportation like never before. And I mean that seriously … like NEVER before. Walking through the world for really the first time as an adult is like having been near sighted for years and suddenly getting new eyeglasses that bring all the details into overwhelming, crystal, clarity. There is a staggering amount of garbage in the nooks and crannies of our world outpaced only by the astonishing amount of sputum on the ground and everywhere, even in the buildings and trains themselves – enough to fill Lake Tahoe in Sacramento alone.

As I sit at the light rail station and wait for a train I can’t help but notice the ground peppered with myriad candy wrappers and cigarette butts and shake my head and wonder why when there’s garbage cans easily accessible. Didn’t they get the “give a hoot, don’t pollute” pamphlet in grade school that I got? I mourn for today’s kids who will never know the pleasure of a summer day of bare feet on hot concrete. They’ll never know that if you walk on the white lines in a parking lot your feet won’t burn or that black asphalt is hotter than a regular sidewalk. Simple childhood pleasures denied them by an apathetic society.

We could clean up the neighborhoods a great deal if we simply eliminated plastic lids and straws. They’re laying around everywhere … and yet there’s very few cups to go with them???? To me this means no one needs lids and straws or we wouldn’t be so routinely throwing them on the ground. Do away with them! The world can more easily recover from spilled soda than it can from discarded plastic lids and straws.

Sometimes I see things that tickle my curiosity … a pair of perfectly good size 10ish boy’s jeans, a random and expensive-looking high heel, an empty wallet, a crew sock, a condom in the middle of a 6 lane boulevard???? … these feel more like crime tips to me than garbage. Is anyone paying attention?

Intriguingly, the lower the income in a neighborhood the more there is to see and be fascinated by. It would be ignorant to assume that low income people are dirtier. In each of our individual experience we have too many instances where we know that’s simply not true. For example, I was in a Safeway grocery store last year, in a “good” neighborhood and saw a white, middle class “gentlemen” of about 50 lay his finger against one side of nose, close his nostril and blow … in the middle of Safeway’s produce section … where we buy food … stuff we put in our mouth. No, low income people are not naturally dirtier. Doesn’t it rather imply that the city simply feels its funds are better spent cleaning up the nicer neighborhoods to satisfy those who pay all those bonds? When a bond issue is voted in don’t we all pay equally for it? No. We don’t. Folks on public assistance don’t pay and I think that’s why their neighborhoods and public areas are neglected. Even in the face of that, I would think it would be a city’s top priority to keep train stations and other public transit areas the cleanest – isn’t that somewhat equivalent to keeping your living room clean even when the rest of the house is a mess so you can fool company into thinking your house is clean.

Whizzing around in a car we’re moving so fast and we’re so focused on our destination that we just don’t see that we’re living in a filthy fast food garbage can.

Slow down. Take a walk and take time to smell the ……….. garbage. Because we won’t fix what we don’t see.




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Recognizing blessings ...

On Friday, October 13th I left work at 2:00 pm and headed for Redding to be part of the wedding celebration of my good friend Diane and her best friend Ross. It being a Friday, I had a load of “financial” errands to run before I could actually leave Sacramento – nothing went as it should but I had allowed for that and so still found myself pointed north on highway 5 at 3:30 and, with the help of MapQuest and a Taco Bell lunch I was on schedule and feeling pretty cocky. I had nearly a full tank and so planned to drive straight through – it was just me and the open road.

Well, maybe the road was a little too open because driving through Corning I ended up meeting a CHP officer – and if you’ve read this blog before then you know I’d rather have my pinky toe amputated than meet a law enforcement person of any kind, for any reason, ever. He peeled me out of a pack of at least 11 cars hitting his lights behind me and setting off a litany of “Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God” in my head. How I got from the fast lane to the shoulder is a blur. As he emerged from his vehicle and strode towards mine I couldn’t help but notice that he was elderly for a CHP officer. I was scared to death and by the time he arrived at my window, I could have been mistaken for a repentant four year old. He casually rested his arm on my car window, inquired if I knew why I was being pulled over and politely told me I was going 87 in a 70. Then he asked for my license at which point I looked him straight in the eye and said that I don’t have one, am not supposed to be driving and it’s not my car. He literally dropped his head onto his arm and gave an audible sigh of disappointment – something my Dad would do! He asked me where I was going and why then he went back to his vehicle to “look” me up …….. and I started chewing my index finger. I knew I wasn’t in jeopardy but that the car was. Not having a driver’s license or insurance the law states the car gets impounded for a mandatory 30 days. So as I watched him in my rearview mirror the “Oh my God” litany is replaced by my brain clicking at full speed to figure out what direction I should walk in, who I would call, how I’d carry all my stuff, what I would tell my son about his car and doing the math to figure out how I would afford to get the car out of impound. When the officer arrived back at my window I fully expected him to ask me to “step out of the vehicle” – he didn’t – instead he gave me a ticket for driving with an expired license and speeding. It was clearly a gift and tears of relief welled up and I think we were both a little embarrassed by that. He told me I was a “nice” person – well, he just met me – and honest and that “we all need a little break once in awhile” and that I should go and have a good time at my friend’s wedding and a nice weekend.

I learned a couple of things …. One, not all law enforcement officers are assholes. Some of them really are “peace” officers there to try to help you. Two, some blessings come in disguise. Who would have ever thought I would look at a speeding ticket as a blessing?

I was born on a Friday the 13th and it’s always been a lucky day for me. This one was no exception.

My lessons had a price though and made me a half hour late getting to Redding and when I arrived I found myself in the middle of Redding’s version of Sturgis. Surprise, surprise! Motorcycles everywhere! All the main roads were blocked off for a parade of motorcycles making my MapQuest map now utterly useless. I drove around town for about 30 minutes before I was finally able to figure out a way to my destination. Feeling as triumphant as the survivors of the Donner party arriving in California, I parked the car to go inside only to discover all the entrances locked. Not exactly giving up but definitely giving in to the events of the afternoon, I decided to sit in the parking lot and wait for everyone to come out. Which eventually happened and we all rolled on to the rehearsal dinner. Within about 30 minutes I’d had enough pizza, drank enough beer and laughed enough to be sufficiently comfortable, glad I came and felt ready to have a good time. The rehearsal dinner was fun and sad and poignant and in what seemed a really short time we were all headed over to the Best Western to bed down.

That night the bride and her "maids" all shared a hotel room. Despite being exhausted emotionally and physically I enjoyed the girl talk and giggling, some trying on of jewelry and make up and other girly pursuits before finally hitting the sack where I'm sure I snored. Waking up to the smell of cinnamon rolls, a couple of us, still in pajamas and unbrushed teeth, headed to the continental breakfast. Yes, people stared and scowled their disapproval at the grown women who should know better showing up in pajamas – well, they can ALL go pound sand – we’re bridesmaids in dire need of coffee so GET OUT OF OUR WAY. We took our sweet time making our plates and coffee despite their hot and disapproving stares and, giggling like teenagers, we eventually headed back to the room to lounge around for another hour before THE BIG DAY actually got underway.

We showered and put our PJs back on and went to meet our metamorphosis from caterpillars to beautiful butterflies head on. With full stomachs and freshly washed hair we surrendered ourselves to the beauticians and were, one at a time, transformed. I know I haven’t worn that much make up since I was in the 3rd grade and dressed up as “Jeannie” for Halloween BUT the end result of the makeup and my hair doing an imitation of Brigitte Bardot’s made me feel prettier than I have in a very long time. As incongruous as it all looked in pajamas it made perfect sense once we were all dressed, coiffed and ready to go.

Transportation to the wedding was clearly a challenge and feeling the bride was being pressured to answer too many questions about what to do, I got a little bossy, swathed the inside of my car with sheets I lifted from the hotel and installed Diane in my backseat. Me and another of her bridesmaids jumped in and we took off headed for the Turtle Bay Exploration Park – the wedding site. Magically, once the bride was gone, everyone else figured out how to get themselves into cars and get there. Gee whiz!

After meeting the photographer, taking a look around and taking care of some last minute decorating and logistic issues we took pictures finally sequestering Diane in the exploration center -- along with the possums, birds and snakes -- just in time to miss the arrival of the groom and his crowd. Whew! It was a hurry up and wait situation with all of the bridesmaids taking turns keeping Diane occupied and making sure things were properly set up.

I was standing up above in the reception area looking down at the impromptu “altar” created by the backdrops Ross and crew had constructed earlier in the day and the gathering guests. Dusk was settling in and the tiny white lights in the illuminated backdrops were now evident and giving off a soft glow. The song “The Prayer” had just started playing and I was thinking of how transformed it all was when I had the feeling someone was standing behind me. I turned to find it was the photographer there to tell me it was time to go. A few minutes later we were lined up single file at the head of the walkway with our long stemmed flowers cradled in our left arm -- looking for all the world like a colorguard. I looked back at Diane, so pretty in her beautiful dress, and saw her face filled with expectation and focused down the walkway. I looked down the walkway to the glowing altar where Ross waited for her and understood and suddenly wished I had a tissue. The ceremony was chock full of funny and endearing moments as well as tender, tearful ones. It had its hitches but as far as I’m concerned it’s all the more memorable for those. Afterwards we all gathered in the reception area to toast the new couple, enjoy the food and each other's company.

Later that night after the toast and the cake, I journeyed home and reflected on what I’d just witnessed. I concluded that my favorite part of the ceremony, of the day in fact, was when Diane clearly affirmed her support of Ross by interrupting the ceremony and asking the minister(s) to “break down” a long tongue-twisting phrase in the vows that would have stumped anyone. Understanding that Ross would have tried it and failed, Diane cast aside any concern she might have had about propriety and with good humor and without damaging anyone’s ego, she turned the situation around and made it possible for Ross to succeed ...... and isn’t that kind of understanding and support a big part of what a successful and happy marriage is all about. In my experience marriage is definitely not for the faint of heart or weak in spirit and I feel confident that Ross and Diane will find their way to a happy marriage together.



:)

Another day of tying a knot in the end of my tether ...

Spend all your time waiting for that second chance
For the break that will make it OK
There's always some reason to feel not good enough
And it's hard at the end of the day
I need some distraction or a beautiful release
Memories seep from my veins
Let me be empty and weightless and maybe
I'll find some peace tonight

In the arms of the Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

So tired of the straight line, and everywhere you turn
There's vultures and thieves at your back
The storm keeps on twisting, you keep on building the lies
That you make up for all that you lack
It don't make no difference, escaping one last time
It's easier to believe
In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness
That brings me to my knees

In the arms of the Angel far away from here
From this dark, cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear
You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie
In the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

You're in the arms of the Angel; may you find some comfort here

I see the moon and the moon sees me ...

If you weren’t lucky enough to be out driving around at 3:30 a.m. today then you missed a fabulous moon. Fabulous in the way that it’s fabulous to be startled to see an eagle flying over the freeway, or to happen across a great horned owl sitting high in a tree in your camp site or to see a bear foraging in the forest (and leaving your expensive prescription sunglasses behind, quietly backing away so you can survive to write about it in your blog). I’ve seen all of those things and know that sometimes nature just makes me stop and stare ... and it's once in a lifetime fabulous. The moon this morning was like that. You could see the dark outline of the whole moon with just a thin crescent of dark orange glow at the very bottom and sort of tipped at an angle. The moon looked heavy and was enormous on the horizon. It felt like you could put your hand out the car window and just cup it in your palm to feel the weight of it. I nearly drove off the freeway overpass looking at it and for the rest of the drive I kept pondering where the sun would have to be in relationship to the earth to cast a shadow at that angle on the moon and was once again astonished that any people anywhere could have ever believed the world to be flat with the obvious truth staring them in the face.

Then I wondered what obvious truths are staring us in the face now that we simply can’t comprehend.

Briefly it made me sad to realize that so much of the universe is still beyond our intellect.

Finally I was glad for at least I have the intellect to appreciate the wonder of it all anyway.


.

A Little Ray of Sunshine Shone on Me Today

I just got an email from Dee Ariza asking me about my "availability" to judge during CCGC's 2007 winterguard season. I'm so excited to be asked back for this year that I'm dancing on my desk ... using proper technique of course!

I can't stop smiling :)


.

Renegades ... It's not a question but a lesson learned in time

Cheers to five years of fairy dust and belief in Santa Claus, to an extension of youth and youthful dreams now fully realized. Goodbye and good luck to my Renegade pals ... it was far better than I ever thought it would be ... and so was I.

Thanks for the time of my life :)

**************************************************
Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test and don't ask why
It's not a question but a lesson learned in time

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right
I hope you had the time of your life

So take the photographs and still frames in your mind
Hang it on a shelf in good health and good times
Tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial
For what it's worth, it was worth all the while

It's something unpredictable but in the end it's right
I hope you had the time of your life
<$1 to Green Day>

**************************************************


I will miss it all .....






.

Excruciating Excursions

Since moving to Sac a few weeks ago, I’ve been searching for a grocery store worthy of replacing the nearly new, spacious and clean (and in my view wonderful) Super WalMart that I used to shop at in Dixon for groceries and just about everything else. There’s just something indescribably special about being able to buy a week’s worth of groceries, a framing hammer and a leather purse all in one shopping cart and at a rock bottom price.

So being totally out of food and no further along in my quest to replace Super WalMart, I went to FoodsCo, a "discount" food store on Northgate Blvd., during my lunch hour yesterday so I could pick up a few things. Egads! Never again. It was a torturous trip. Every aisle reminded me of Highway 50 during a snow storm – you know when everyone haphazardly pulls to the side of the road to put their chains on turning traffic order into utter chaos … and all that staged to a pounding hip-hop beat.

rant :on:
Why oh why do all low-price retail establishments find it necessary to bump hip hop and rap music exclusively? I’m curious to see the market study that shows that Grandma prefers the accompaniment Dr. Dre while making a denture cream selection. I wish marketing people would give some serious thought to who their market really is.
rant :off:

It took me an hour to spend $39 and in that entire time I never grew to understand FoodsCo’s merchandising strategy. For example, following an extensive search that would have impressed Dr. Leeky I finally found ordinary canned chili in the “ethnic foods” aisle and canned tuna with the canned vegetables (you don’t have to be a vegan to agree that’s just weird). Their wacky merchandising logic had me doubling back repeatedly which made me cringe ... but what made me cringe even more was the clientele ... universally grubby and plain inconsiderate of one another. It seemed everyone was wearing too-short-shorts, grimy hair and dirty flip flops. Ok … I recognize the grit is just part of the down-spiraling of American society and it no longer fazes me, but I do wish shoppers would realize that grocery carts aren’t Conestoga wagons caravanning down a trail into the untamed west. We don’t have to proceed down the aisle in a single file line that blocks everyone else’s progress whilst we commiserate with one another over which brand of canned beets are the best value … and who eats those anyway? I wish folks would realize we'dl ALL get out of there fast with just a little consideration and cooperation.

When I was through pinching my pennies at FoodsCo, but still actively on that hunt to stretch my money, I drove through Taco Bell on my way back to my office and ordered two .99 burritos. Unfortunately I was so wound up from my excruciating shopping excursion that I paid for my food, got my change and drove away without my lunch. Sheesh, $2.12 for nothing ... it's as if I just made an interest-only payment on my lunch. There goes the .39 I saved on bologna, the .49 cents on spaghetti sauce, etc

Sigh … I miss my Super WalMart.

How far away is Dixon anyway?

Food (and framing hammers) for thought ………

Why Play?

McDonald’s is once again playing the “Monopoly” game. Why do I like playing this game? I dutifully collect all my little colorful stickers and solemnly stick them onto the Monopoly game page hanging on the front of my fridge. I always get everything except the last one I need … you know, I’ve got Atlantic Avenue and Ventnor but Marvin Gardens is only available in Bumfuck, Egypt and I’m likely never gonna’ see it. I know this when I start the game so why do I even play? As I was sticking little bits of paper onto my Monopoly page last night I got to thinking, who won the last game? Then I realized I’ve never once heard who wins those games. McDonald’s spends a boat load of their advertising budget printing and advertising these games. Wouldn’t you think they’d want to make a mega marketing hype about the winners? Curious isn’t it? Did anyone win? Does anyone ever win? Anything?

This got me thinking about all the other “winners” I’ve never seen. Who won the free week of groceries from the local supermarket drawing or the free tank of gas from the corner gas station? Did anyone? I’ll never know. That made me think about all those times I’ve “won” something from the internet. You know, click here to claim your prize … just sign up for $1,000 of stuff you don’t need and you can have this $25 camera phone for free (plus $35 in shipping and handling charges). That got me to thinking maybe no one ever really wins anything. The super cynical side of me started declaring it to all just be marketing hype … and then I remembered that once I won. I really, really won.

When I was a little girl my Mom used to grocery shop at Vic’s market. It was a small corner grocery that had a heavy swinging door with a bell on it. It was always dark and cool inside and smelled of freshly opened cardboard boxes and cold cuts. They had a Coca-Cola machine that sold Coke in tiny glass bottles but your timing had to be quick and damn near perfect – snatch the bottle too soon and it would stick in the dull metal jaws of the mechanism and pinch your fingers in the process – snatch it too late and just miss out – most of the time it cheated you out of your money. A lot more reliable, the store also had a penny gumball machine chock full of inviting little fruit-colored orbs, all in solid colors. Amongst the solid colors was a single bright yellow gumball bearing two red stripes around it and if you got that gumball you could turn it in for a free candy bar. The prize gumball was always teasingly positioned where you could see it either on top of the pile or right next to the glass. One hot and sticky summer afternoon in 1965 I crossed my fingers and pushed my penny in the machine’s slot for the umpteenth time, turning the handle, the swinging lid giving a little squeak as it opened …I felt like the luckiest kid in the world when that bright yellow striped gumball emerged quietly from under the lid and rolled gently into my palm. I was ecstatic. I looked around to see if anyone else saw me win but no one had. So proudly holding my newly won gumball so that everyone could plainly see it I stepped up to the cashier to claim my free candy bar and asked for a Big Hunk – but when the cashier asked me for the gumball I just stood there and blinked at her. I couldn’t give it up. I stuffed the little gumball into the pocket of my cotton shorts and took it home where I put it in my ballerina music box. There it sat for years fading and gathering lint. Evidence that I’d won. Really, really won.

Maybe that’s why I still play …

Weekend Recovery

So I had the radio cranked up in the car this morning hoping to chase away the blues from a truly hideous Sunday and found myself laughing out loud over a Kaiser Permanente commercial. The commercial's message is "wellness" and one of the statements they made is that "50 is the new 30". I LOVE IT ... so much so that I adopted it into my vernacular that very second.

If 50 is the new 30 then I'm only 29!


WOOHOO !!!!

My checkbook has stretch marks

I moved heaven and earth last week to scrape together enough money to pick up Chris’ car. I feel like I’m balancing a big column of china teacups on the tip of my pinky while riding a unicycle but if everything goes according to plan nothing will break. I’m on the lookout for Murphy and his damn law … we’ll see how it goes.

The final day to pick up the car was Saturday and it was a special kind of hell. I had a detailed plan … as I always do … but it went the way of the Dodo almost from the get-go. It started with me driving Chris to work in Davis at 5:00 am and looping back home but then being too charged up to get back to sleep. I left home again at 9:00 needing to make just one stop prior to picking up Chris’ car. That one stop turned into seven, ultra-frustrating trips, laden with rejection, delays and encounters with multiple folks operating on minimum bandwidth:

Number of train delays = 2
Number of bridge delays = 1
Number of people encountered with double digit IQs = 5 (and that does not include the ones the state of California gave driver’s licenses to)
Number of times I yelled at Fred for driving crazy = 85,000
Temperature outside = 95
Temperature in the car = 107
Phone calls to banks to find an open branch = 4
Trips to open branches not actually open = 1
Number of times I drove through the 80/50/5/99 interchange loop = 9
Number of dollars left in checking account = 19
Handfuls of hair ripped out in frustration = 1

Finally arriving at the car dealership at 1:10, sweaty ball of money tightly clutched in my fist, I spoke to the service department clerk who flashed a manufactured smile at me and said “I can’t find your car, are you sure this is where you left it?”. Suffice it to say that after a somewhat pregnant pause I had a melt down of nearly gargantuan proportions. Through the fog of my frustration I vaguely remember contemplating just going ahead and climbing over the counter and choking the 18 year old twit … er clerk … to death … and thinking all the while no jury would convict me. She was rescued by the Service Department Manager who quickly found the paperwork, as well as the car, took my $1000 ball of money and did what any good manager would …. got me the hell out of his dealership as quickly as possible.

Getting Chris’ car out = mission accomplished.

Number of twits …er clerks … who I’m guessing will think twice before telling another customer she can’t find their car = 1.

By 1:48 I was standing in my living room in my underwear and talking on the phone and assuring my friend Diane that I was on my way to her bridal shower … which starts at 2:00 and is at least 35 miles away. Despite the day’s hell-like obstacles I made it down to Vacaville by 2:45, and while being late would normally make me crackers, I was happy to get there at all. The shower was good fun. There were a few tears and plenty of laughter and a good time was had by all at the Perfect Blend Coffee House. We had the whole place to ourselves until a guy on a bike showed up around 3:30. Just at the moment he was entering the building, Diane was also swinging a thong in circles above her head and being egged by a circle of rowdy women. Needless to say, the guy on the bike got back on the bike and we never saw him again.

Fast forward to Saturday night where Diane, Stu and I sat at my house, swapping stories and singing all the words to all the songs from all the musicals that we know while “doing our roots” (well, Di doesn’t have roots but she was a great cheerleader) and drinking invisible Kool-aid. The three of us finally cashed it in around 3a.m. Slow going on Sunday morning, a few chores and the weekend was a wrap.

Back at work today a little worse for wear with the focus on finance-juggling once again with the next bite being the 1st of the month … du du du duuuuuh.

As I drove Chris to work
in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday
morning I saw a shooting star …
and wished on it.

A moral conundrum ?

Personally, I find the mysterious part of this story to be the paradox presented by India's moral code regarding wildlife. It allows the creation and cross breeding of wildlife and holding wildlife in captivity yet does not allow them to end an animal's life out of compassion and to compensate for an error for which they're wholly responsible anyway. I find this a bit repugnant >(

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmmmm.

Asiatic-African Lions

Second from the left .... the new meaning of Guard Dog

See the dog
See the Reneguard uniform
See the guard dog
no?

As of this weekend I’m officially no longer a tree-hugging resident of Davis. I’ve moved to Sacramento (well barely, it’s actually the last possible Sacramento exit off the freeway before Elk Grove) but it’s bigger, better and brighter than the last place and everything there works. Yeah! The house is great, the neighborhood is intimidating by most folks standard … eh so what … and I’m happy we’re there. I had several watershed realizations over the course of the move this weekend. Attributing a proverb to each began accidentally enough and eventually became a kind of game so I thought I’d share.

“Everything happens for a reason” …
I don’t have a fancy refrigerator (more on that later) and so our ice cubes come from a plastic tray … like most normal people’s probably do. We had an enormous need for ice this weekend during the move and so I kept rushing ice cube production … meaning I was using them before they were ready. I’d fill the tray with cold water, stick it in the freezer and come back in a couple of hours and use whatever there was. After about 4 rotations of this I realized there was no rhyme or reason to which of the little cubes would freeze totally and which would not. I had filled the trays the exact same way each time and put them in the freezer in the exact same place and yet different cubes froze each time. The randomness of it made me liken ice cube production to vehicle accidents and tornadoes … you know what I mean, where the bus crash survivor whose seat partner and six other people in the vicinity were killed in the crash while they didn’t even get a scratch, or the poor schlock whose house trailer was swept away into the gulf by the tornado but his neighbor’s trailer is still intact and wagging it’s tongue at him. I can’t help but be continually surprised by life’s randomness, from water freezing to tornado touch downs, and wonder about its’ purpose.

“The best laid plans of mice and men oft go astray” …
Last July, my son Chris, in a dedicated quest to make our commute life easier, got a job around the corner from our house in Davis AND signed up for all his college courses at the Davis extension campus this year. Now it’s September and we’re moving. I think you can fill in the rest. He is at the end of his rope and I’ve asked him to tie a knot and hang on until we get his car out of the shop.

“It never rains but it pours” …
Wishing Alanis Morisette was paying attention because she doesn’t REALLY get it, here’s something truly ironic. Long story short I needed to leave my refrigerator at the old house. I ran myself ragged for several days prior to the move looking for a refrigerator. I tried to buy one used but nothing I could afford was for sale. I couldn’t afford to buy one brand new right now and I finally settled on just renting one for now. Believe me, the guys working to organize peace between the Arabs and Israelis have nothing on me and my skill in organizing the rental and delivery of this refrigerator to the new house. Finally, last Friday, $30 poorer and 3 days older I had a refrigerator in place. Breathe a sigh of relief and case closed, right? Not so fast. As we’re moving Saturday my husband comes home from walking Teddy and tells me the apartment complex across the street has at least a dozen nice looking, working refrigerators sitting by the dumpster that they’re getting rid of because they’re remodeling some of their units. What? So we go over and pick up two (just in case) perfectly wonderful working refrigerators and take them to the new house. Now I just have to change the rotation of the earth on its’ axis and get the rented refrigerator picked up. The contract says you can return it anytime with no penalty but if that really happens … well let’s just say “surprised” wouldn’t begin to cover it. I can’t regret the $30 I spent already knowing there’s hundreds that I’ll save. The now “spare” fridge will most likely go in the newspaper and be sold to some other poor, crazy, stressed female looking to populate her kitchen with a fridge …. my chance to give something back, right?

“The best things in life aren’t things” …
You know when you get in those moods where you start reflecting on your life’s accomplishments and have those self-deprecating thoughts of “I should have more than I do blah, blah, blah”. Well when that happens next time ….. move … cause you have no appreciation for how much crap you really DO have until you move it. Every time I move it’s like trying to fit 10 gallons into a 5 gallon bucket. It’s an enigma. I’ve apparently accomplished a lot more than I give myself credit for … at least based on the magnificent number of cardboard boxes I can fill with my crap.

Ever diligently focused on eating the elephant one bite at a time, with the move finally over it’s time to turn my attention to finding the $1000 I need to get Chris’ car out of the shop.

Whee!

Happy Birthday to me .....

Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to meeeeeeee
Happy Birthday to me

Time to take inventory, refresh, reuse or refuse ... whatever. Definitely the end of an era ... or the beginning of a new one ... TBD.

A whole new vista before me.

Whatever will I do with it this time?

DCA -- It's a Wrap

We made finals … and after our performance on Saturday night in the middle of “tropical depression” Ernesto I wasn’t confident we would. I was apparently the only one breathing a sigh of relief though when we did, no one else was apparently worried about making finals. At finals we finished 8th, getting knocked out of 7th by a 2.0 penalty for a sideline violation. I think Renegades should consider investing one of those electric fence and collar get ups used for dogs and placing it along the front side line. Sigh! I reconciled myself months ago to the fact that we weren’t going to place as well as we did last year. This is by no means a reflection on anyone’s commitment, work ethic, or ability – in my opinion, from a design standpoint, it just wasn’t as strong as our previous programs. A 7th place would have POSSIBLY taken some of the sting out of falling below last year’s placement for me but I don’t really think so. To me hyping on 7th place is equivalent to spraying a hot, steaming pile of shit with room freshener and declaring that it smells good. I believe we all did the very best we could with what we were given and the resources we had. I also believe that with all of the obstacles put in our path this season we did a remarkable job of overcoming them and getting to Rochester at all and in that sense, making finals is an enormous triumph. For many reasons, that’s how I’ll remember 2006 … as a triumph.

My friend Alton and I arrived in Buffalo on Wednesday afternoon about 4:00 after 13 hours of “real time” flight. The last leg of it in a tiny toy airplane that did not make me a happy camper. Since we slept most of the way we were pretty ready for action and met up with some fellow Reneguard members at Niagara Falls. We got there too late for the “Maid of the Mist” boat ride but we did do the “Cave of the Winds” tour … and had a blast … literally getting blasted by the falls … wow! The funniest part happened as we were ascending to the highest point of the walkway and I heard Alton behind me ask in the tiniest little voice “Jojo what are you doing?” because I‘d stopped just short of the top for traffic leaving him stuck on the stairs unable to look up into a deluge to see what was going on. The best part was we got to keep the tour sandals and plastic ponchos. For most of the remaining week Stu ran around Rochester looking like a giant toddler in plaid shorts and blue and green tour sandals … heh. Wednesday night we journeyed out to Aurora (which, arriving at night, I would swear is in the middle of the Blair Witch woods) to stay at our friend Andrea’s grandfather’s house. We all sat up and watched the Renegades trilogy and finally hit the sack around 1:30.

The next day after a nice stick-to-your-ribs breakfast at Andrea’s we headed out to Rochester and our respective hotels. Alton, Stu and I opted to stay with Chops Inc. this year – much cheaper and much less chaotic. Almost immediately after checking in we headed out to the mall in search of an I&E outfit for Alton but, being incredibly short on time, had to bag that in favor of getting to rehearsal on time. Arriving at rehearsal we were saddened by the news that Kathy wasn’t going to be able to join us after all because Derek had dislocated an elbow and broken his arm. Ouch! Poor little guy! And stunned to hear that our equipment truck hadn’t yet arrived – turns out you can’t talk snotty to Nebraska patrolmen or you go to jail – so we “air flagged” a couple of run-thrus and met at the Renegades hotel for a stretch-down before they let us go for the evening. After my brief, but torrid, melt-down at the last rehearsal I found this whole “the truck didn’t arrive” thing super humorous and, yeah-so-what-if-I’m-immature, satisfying! Later that evening the three of us headed to the local WalMart where not only does it feel like you’ve never left home but you know where everything is and Alton found something to wear for I&E. We bought some food and supplies as well and ate dinner in the hotel room that night where I happily consumed an entire container of Shedd’s microwaveable macaroni and cheese (for a family of four) before falling asleep.

Friday morning came way too quick and we were up and out and headed for rehearsal where the planets aligned, the truck showed up and I began to get the feeling that we were going to be okay. I can’t say exactly what it is that makes rehearsal at DCA so productive … it just is … maybe it’s because we leave the rest of the world behind? We had a pretty full day, covered a great deal, did a lot of cleaning and broke at 4:00 so we could all go to I&E and support those competing. With only 1.5 hours we were seriously pushed for time and in fact, Alton barely made it in time to compete. So Alton, Stu, Amy and the Reneguard all had good performances. I’ll go on record as stating there’s no way SoCal Dream should have beaten the Reneguard in either repertoire or excellence. I do think DCA is more traditional though and maybe we should keep that in mind when designing our programs. At any rate, they all did well and made us proud. Afterwards the three of us followed the Chops Inc. bus into the middle of nowhere to a party we’d been invited to … and had a great time. Good food, friendly people a giant bonfire and some of the bawdiest and funniest campfire songs I’ve ever heard and will never forget. Thanks Chops for a really fun time! Panda! Panda! You make a person want to come back and do it again ……

Saturday morning with the pressure of I&E off everyone’s mind it was time to have a serious rehearsal in preparation for prelims that night. Unfortunately Mother Nature had other ideas and made me incredibly grateful that I had my “Cave of the Winds” poncho with me. It rained off and on … and mostly on … throughout the day. Because of the rain the schedule kept changing and we were eventually let go around 1:30. We headed straight to Taco Bell and bed. We ate and napped and around 3:30 got a call from our caption head telling us we’d been delayed for another hour due to weather … so we napped some more finally leaving for prelims at 6:00. At this point the rain and wind were beyond ridiculous and as we drove through it to the stadium I couldn’t believe there wasn’t going to be another delay or even a cancellation. When we arrived we found the guard and we all huddled together like a litter of orphaned, mewing, kittens and watched a couple of corps on the overhead monitor. It was clear how rough it was on the field and I was dreading the moment when I would have to strip down to my thin polyester Burger King uniform and get out there myself. I made a mental note that the wind was blowing tosses forward, opposite of what we were used to at Treasure Island …shit. We hijacked a ladies restroom for a proper, but abbreviated, body warm up and some infusion of happy thoughts from Emily. Heading out to do an equipment warm up was a rude awakening and after some quick discussion among the staff it was decided the best approach was to just get out there and do it so we staged ourselves for a stand still run thru in the pelting rain and driving wind and just did it. It was exhilarating. Like a run thru in the shower. Every time someone dropped or fumbled it just made us push all the harder. Facing the rain full on and just going for it was a huge emotional release that replaced my fear and dread with the determination to just embrace the weather, do the best I could and have a good time in the process. The mood was light as we gathered our stuff and happy chatter ensued as we made the long trek around the stadium to the gate. When we arrived at the tented staging area, we briefly huddled together for warmth and greedily sucked down the peaches Emily passed around wishing each other luck with hugs and kisses. We watched the tail end of Minnesota Brass’ show and it was suddenly time to go. When we stepped out onto the turf I was elated to find it wasn’t as windy, wasn’t as cold and wasn’t as rainy as I thought it was – magic or perspective, I don’t know. It seemed like the equipment staging and warm up went by really fast and in no time at all Greg was counting us off and we were going. With the first notes of the show behind us I forgot about the rain, I forgot to worry about the wind and I just tried to knock one out of the ballpark. I remember how slick the rifle felt in my hand and how I struggled to keep a grip on it. I remember looking for yard lines just not there due to the storm, I remember watching the toss right after the air tours (aka the teacups) fly away from me and to my right. After I had the flag back in my hands I remember actually taking the mental time to marvel at the fact that I was back in the work in less than 8 counts and wondering how I did that – you never know where your mind will go in the middle of a performance – getting back on track I finished the highlighter flagwork somehow. Things were much easier after that with everything difficult behind me and I cruised through the remainder of the show with the exception of the small toss in the red flagwork which I opted to “stu” at the last second. No, it wasn’t a personal best but it was a victory none the less. As we were exiting the field they announced Minnesota’s score as 92-something and I remember gasping and thinking how high that was and how impossible it seemed to compete with that. It wasn’t until much later in the evening that I heard we got a 90 and 7th place. That night Alton and I went to Denny’s where if they would have had a whole horse on the menu I would have ordered it – I was starving! I settled for a T-bone steak and potatoes. When they first brought the plate I remember thinking I was going to need a box … uh no … I ate it all and then had desert … and slept straight through to the wake up call the next morning.

Sunday arrived and the first thing I did was open the curtains and look outside … and was hugely relieved to see that although the sky was dark and menacing, the ground was nearly dry. Having once again not brought enough warm clothes to DCA (you’d think I’d get it right the fifth time wouldn’t you) I donned my still damp rehearsal clothes from the previous day and off we went. Rehearsal Sunday was a bit better with much less rain and even some sporadic and welcome sunshine! Knowing it was now or never made for an interesting rehearsal. The level of cooperation, the consideration of one another, the politeness, the camaraderie, the commitment – things that had been lacking all season -- were suddenly well in evidence. I walked away from that rehearsal confident that we were the best we could be as a group. Alton, Stu and I went to Boston Market and carbed up before getting dressed to go to the show. The schedule was much the same as the previous day. We met in the same place and the entire corps went across the street to a park to warm up. Our final stand still run thru went well and suddenly I heard Emily tell us to gather up our stuff and we were headed for the gate. Same tent but this time we watched Hurricanes performance before taking the field. No excuses tonight. The weather was positively balmy compared to Saturday and opportunity was hanging in the air. Alton and I exchanged a warm hug just before setting that gave me a huge lump in my throat for most of the orange opener. Something bad happened musically towards the end of the orange flagwork and the tempo was lost to a few of us throwing us off for a few counts at the very end but pulling back together just in time for the transition to rifle. Everything went pretty smoothly except for my closing quad which I barely got my hands on and the mysterious loss of a yard line in the highlighter flagwork … sorry arc! For once, I didn’t get tangled in the damn double flagwork and the rest of the show was a pretty easy ride. I remembered to have a good time; in fact I had a hard time not smiling throughout. Then as Greg called the mark time I realized the 2006 season was over … and I breathed a huge sigh of relief. I mentally check marked the exact moment I crossed the end zone and stopped being a 2006 Renegade. This is important because since joining in 2002 I’ve never thought of myself as not being a Renegade. This was a first for me. A kind of letting go??? Leaving the field we went directly to the risers to have our corps picture taken and then I was done. Skipping the guard picture, I gathered my personal belongings, gave Emily a hug and a huge thanks and said goodbye to friends. I chose to spend the remainder of the show in the stands with my friends Stu and Alton. Skipping retreat and foregoing the mud pit concert we left the stadium directly after Bucs performance and went to dinner knowing that scores and placements would be there when we were ready to know them …. at that moment it was more important to be a threesome for the last time for a long while.

Good Bye Real World ...

Today is the last day of real life until September 5th. At midnight tonight I check out of the real world and board a plane bound for DCA and what I hope will be the best drum corps week of my life. History tells me that there’s no better place to achieve performance focus like tour where you can shut out all of your real life, adult concerns and concentrate on being the best you can be at the thing you love. No lie, this year Renegades has been a difficult physical and mental challenge for me unlike any other. I’ve worked really hard to get my chops up, keep my body from shutting down and keep my attitude in check. A lot of self-talk has been involved in making it this far. I did a pretty fair job of bringing it all together until this past Sunday when I had a brief but serious melt down. Reflecting on it now though, I wouldn’t take a moment of it back. I had to work this season to keep the faith … and admittedly I was not always 100% successful … to persevere through what virtually everyone has predicted would be a disastrous season for the Renegades … even some of the alums. I was happy to see so many of them at our Family Day show last Saturday … and I was happy to hear them eat their words. This is going to be the season that everyone wishes they had marched because this season is a Renegades legend in the making.

We’re taking a show back east that barely resembles the show we performed in Season 1.0 and it’s pretty much guaranteed to not only make finals but possibly place as high as 6th depending on the performance we actually pull out of the bag this Sunday. Those of us who have hung in there this season, through members quitting, staff quitting, a friend being cut, a 1-man snare line, questionable show design and choreography and overall high drama, have an awful lot to be proud of.

I’ve developed a large amount of respect for Emily Mavroudis through the course of the season. When everyone else stopped believing, she held us together and brought some sanity to a situation she was totally unprepared for and dealt with it like a true pro. Sincere and heartfelt thanks Em. Without your dedication and tenacity, we wouldn’t be here. Em is very Santa Clara … as an old-school SCV biatch that’s the highest compliment I can give.

Kathy is back and a collective and audible sigh of relief was heard round the guard field when she emerged from her van gok in hand. In about two hours it was clear that we were going to be okay.

So as I pack my sunscreen, bug spray and sockbun, I also pack my expectation to go to Paetec Park and surprise the hell out of everyone. Whether we’re first or last, the reality is we’ve already won … we made it there.

My DCA Predictions ...

My personal DCA predictions .... assuming 06 goes like 02, 03, 04 and 05 .... someone will oversleep or mess up with security and miss their flight but still magically make it to the first Rachacha rehearsal .... someone's horncase will emerge from the baggage chute open and in tatters .... someone's suitcase will not emerge from the baggage chute at all until the day of finals .... many exhausted someones will nap in the hotel lobby while we wait 85 hours for check in time ....
many someones will miss the bus to rehearsal and the excuses will be pulitzer prize worthy .... "gel" will happen within the first two rehearsals and many personal bests will be achieved .... the "really nice" hotel we stay in will smell like old gym socks and stale beer by the second day .... Rachacha's atmosphere will be comprised primarily of sunscreen and bug spray for several days after we've left .... new friends will be made and old acquaintances renewed .... enough beer to fill a swimming pool will be consumed .... strippers will be in evidence at least once .... we will meet local law enforcement and told to 1) move the party or 2) shut down the party .... I will see something I never thought I'd see -- and still be surprised by that after all these years as a Renegade .... we will have a great time .... we will kick some azz .... we will reminesce and laugh about DCA 06 for years to come.

XOXO

God deserves a little dose of karma too ...

I was an only child for my first ten years and kind of bossy (gee, imagine that) and so I played alone a lot and, before you start feeling sorry for me, that’s exactly how I liked it. The summer before kindergarten I was four and my mother built a play kitchen for me in our backyard out of GIGANTIC cardboard boxes (well they were gigantic to me but were really just big toilet paper boxes). She made me a fridge and a stove and a sink made from a big plastic bowl shoved into a cutout in one of the cardboard boxes. She used to stock my “cupboards” with “food” by opening her food containers, you know cans and boxes and such, upside down so that when they were in my cupboard they’d still look closed – like new groceries. I played house endlessly that summer in that little kitchen. In fact, I think I “cooked” in that kitchen more than in any other since. The downside of my little kitchen and its containers that summer was that it occasionally attracted ants – especially on the really hot days. Long, fat streams of ants. The ants intrigued me. I used to follow their trail to see where they were going, try to figure out which ones were the daddy ants, the mommy ants and the baby ants (imagine my disappointment later when I found out there was no such thing but I digress). I would randomly squish one or two, or six, along the trail, or put food or some other obstacle in their way, or pour Kool-Aid on them … just to watch the chaos that would ensue. I think I even tried eating one once and I clearly remember serving a few to my dolls, placing my microscopic victims on my tiny plastic dinnerware and cutting them in half with a tiny plastic knife …well, admittedly that was a little over the top but anyway ... I think me and the ants might be analogous to God and us. Seriously. God has been messing around with me and the people around me on my trail for the last two years and random chaos has indeed ensued! I think it’s time for God to shift his focus and move on down the trail – or get called into the house by his Dad to take a bath – cuz that always saved the ants from me.

At the end of that summer, clothed in Bermuda shorts and tap shoes (and I don’t remember why) my 4-year old brain decided it would be a good idea to jump off the top of my swing set – as if that wasn't stupid enough – I jumped while my tongue was sticking out (you know in concentration) and when I landed my teeth gnashed together sharply, uppers and lowers nearly meeting and came seriously close to severing the tip of my tongue completely off, cutting nerves and turning me into an amazing bloody sprinkler. Who knew baby teeth could do that much damage? It required several stitches, a lot of undignified kicking and screaming while being strapped to a gurney (which I'll never forget made me and my mom hysterical) and finally resulting in a Cindy-Brady-like lisp that took years of speech therapy to control but never cure. Anyway, I’ve always thought of that as my payback for messing with the ants. What do you suppose karma has in store for God considering the huge amount of random chaos he initiates with his ants????

I'd buy tickets to see that.

Important side note -- during the car ride home I fiddled with the new stitches so much, moving my tongue around my teeth, that the lead stitch came untied and the whole thing unraveled and I had to go right back to the emergency room and get it done all over again. Yeah. Again.

It's true what they say about karma being a bitch.

Holy Petroleum By-Products Batman!?!?!

Why do women still wear Avon fragrances? I keep smelling them everywhere the last week or so. Is Avon having a sale? If you’re going to smell like cheap perfume, then just buy cheap perfume. Avon is not cheap, it only smells cheap. Maybe it’s not Avon at all…..maybe I have a brain tumor.

The new season of Dancing With The Stars is starting soon. On the list of contestants there’s about four people whose names I recognize. Consequently I don’t feel compelled to keep up with it this season EXCEPT that one of them is (in the category of WTF) Emmitt Smith. I know, I know, Jerry Rice did it too BUT as a receiver Jerry had the body style and the natural grace to pull it off – Emmitt, on the other hand, is built like a fire hydrant. Pairs should be interesting.

Speaking of “on the other hand” I was channel grazing last night at 10:00 pm just before getting ready for bed and I ran into the opening credits of “Fiddler On The Roof”. I knew I should go to bed but I love that movie and so, like a 6-year old kid, I bargained with myself and promised that I would watch it ONLY up through the bottle dance but, of course, ended up watching the whole thing and going to bed at like 1:00! Oy Vey!

Going back to TV dancing … it looks like the chick I picked on the first episode of “So You Think You Can Dance” this season (I think her name is Heidi) is gonna’ be the last chick on the show. I’m not saying she’ll necessarily win (in fact, I think the leprechaun guy may beat her) but she’s the best of the girls and has been all season. My only issue with her is that sometimes her ballroom style makes me just shudder. In some of the pieces she’s done it would have been nice to NOT be able to tell that’s where she got the bulk of her training.

On the real world front I’m paying for my ultra-relaxing weekend in spades with this work week. Who invented the concept of having to take the bad with the good anyway? Why can’t it just all be good? I’m having to work very hard to keep my weekend glow until at least Wednesday.

I relished the entire weekend off. Really I had the odd feeling of “oh, so this is what I’ve been missing”. We shopped, we slept in, we went to the movies, and we lounged like lizards. Maybe it’s just because we’re near the end of what has proved to be a really hard season but I’m feeling ready to hang up the guard gloves … maybe just until Open House, maybe permanently. There’s an awful lot to be said for sleeping in. Working full time and marching is like working 7 days a week for several weeks at a time. Even worse, cuz it takes such a toll physically and emotionally. I love it, but everyone has to retire some time. I know, I know, I say that every year but …. Well, we’ll see.

I just had an epiphany! I’ll bet somewhere here in the office is selling Avon!


:o

Manatee porn and planning accordingly ...

If you knew what day you were going to die would you live your life differently than you do now? I think so.

Personally I’d like to know. Maybe not a specific date but a date … I dunno’ …. within a 30-day window maybe. Like a random date of say March 2040. I’d be 83 then and that would be okay cause that’s a pretty long life but it might mean that I’d die counting the holes in the acoustical tiles above my hospital bed which doesn’t sound so good. I’m not sure I want to get all that old.

On the other hand if the date were October 2006 then I’d be 49 and I’d have to bust my butt to squeeze a bunch of stuff in before I go. Like find a way to Europe real soon – (because I refuse to die without having been to Paris). If you knew how much time you had would you waste any of it? I don’t think so. I mean, the clock is ticking all the time but I don’t think we hear it until we’re at least middle aged and then … well, I think it just gets louder until the end when I bet it just hums quietly.

I’m okay with not knowing HOW I’m going to die – mostly because I think I’d act like a paranoid freak trying to avoid that thing, whatever it is – but I think it’s unfair that we don’t know WHEN. It’s akin to having a payment due on something major – like a big subzero refrigerator -- but not knowing the exact due date and then when you miss it someone suddenly just comes along and repossesses your fridge. End of story. No more ice cubes.

I mean is wanting to know when you’re going to die all that different from wanting to know the sex of your unborn child? I don’t think so.

So I’ve decided to randomly pick June of 2027 and plan accordingly.

It's all about the Fuzzy Bunnies ...

Renegades rehearsal this past weekend wasn’t what I’d hoped for … well, let me rephrase that … I didn’t accomplish what I wanted to do … I’ve hit a plateau and still find myself frustrated in my attempts to OWN this show. Damn it. Nailing the rifle book in the opener is still proving difficult. The vocabulary contains some long phrases with absolutely no breath choreographed in and so one minor error can quickly result in the loss of 8-16 counts. Very frustrating! At this point I think I’ve psyched myself out for I’ve temporarily lost my quad as well as my five. Shit! My frustrations mounted greatly when on Saturday afternoon the Toccata drill wasn’t ready for the guard. ACK! Sunday was a new day but was no better for me. It didn’t help that I was feeling kinda’ punk. Just tired and plain worn out. I was ready for it to be over even before lunch … and that’s not good. So we have this weekend off and frankly I need the rest. I’ll spend some time recuperating, some time being my regular ME, some time with my rifle, some time doing tosses, and some time getting control of my focus and getting ready to go hard at it again … at the dreaded Mars. Ewww Mars. It’s a real test of human endurance … but if you can do it there, you can do it anywhere. I need to focus on the “fuzzy bunnies” and my happy fairy dust thoughts to ensure that I don’t just fall out of the sky!

In the category of good news …

Alert the media, the Holy Grail has been recovered … Chris has a job! An actual J O B and he’s really happy about it. It has eliminated the little black rain cloud that’s been following him around this entire summer. Woot!

I’m rethinking my mid-town move and looking at condos across the street from my job and saying hmmmmmm. Very nice. Very gated. Very right up my alley. Very much looking forward to a walk-thru of the models sometime today (I hope).

I came home from rehearsal the other day to find that my hubby had found me a new-to-me-dryer. I’m thrilled!!!! And this pushes him straight to the top of the man scale in my book. He was driving … and you know what they say about one person’s trash being another person’s treasure … and he sees this guy pushing a dryer. Bing! And, just like me, it’s a little worse for wear but still works great. Thanks B for restoring sanity to my laundry life. Big Ups for understanding that for me contentment can be found in having a clean house, clean laundry and a full refrigerator (and having a couple of extra dollars in my jeans pocket).

Kevin is liking his new job at Ace. I need to find the time to go in there and be an annoying customer just for fun. Come to think of it, I actually need a new deadbolt.

Our dog Teddy has returned from another of his unscheduled vacations randomly cruising the neighborhood. He been gone about two weeks (the longest he’s ever been gone). He returned late last night freshly bathed and brushed with his toenails clipped. Hmmmmmm … someone is going to miss him but it won’t be US. Like a wayward husband, Teddy always finds his way home.

In the category of not-so-good news …

JD is flying home today. About a week earlier than expected. This cancels our plans for weekend fun with him. Sigh. I guess in retrospect I should have taken a day off from rehearsals while he was here. Hind sight is 20-20. I love drum corps but sometimes I think it tweaks our perspective more than a little.

Oy Vey!

Sometimes life is like a tornado and it tosses you around in different directions bumping your head on flying objects. Sheesh!

.

A Note to the Brethren ...

In less than a month the 2006 Renegades will cease to exist.

We’re at that point in the season where I start feeling nostalgic about Renegades. The absence of Renegades not with us this season is more deeply felt and the camaraderie with those on the field is more pronounced. Once again we’re close to that place where all the hard work and struggle finally results in greatness … and suddenly it’s over … POOF … and me and all my cohorts in crime, this rag-tag mix of lunatics called Renegades that I’ve come to think of once again as family, will never do this show again. Ever. Period. Come September 4th, we'll board airplanes and go our separate ways into our individual futures. To me that’s a sad realization that, without fail, hits me the hardest as we’re entering the field at finals.

When I talk about these feelings to other Renegades the litany I most often hear is “there’s always next year”. Personally I’m dumbfounded that people have such confidence in that. To me Renegades is a wonder every year -- a lucky happenstance where planets align and magic happens – a unique recipe of talent, personalities, creativity and opportunity that has, thus far, managed to materialize each year despite incredible odds and seemingly insurmountable obstacles. Each of my five seasons has had it's own identity and no two have been the same experience. I realize Renegades isn’t a permanent fixture on the landscape. It might not be here in 2 years when I'm finally in shape, or can afford it, or my spouse says its okay, or whatever and I know that realization makes me live more in the moment, give more to the moment and enjoy and appreciate Renegades as the fleeting and unique experience that I believe it really is. I’m sad to see each season come to a close because, truly, none of us knows if it will be our last.

This weekend we’ll be balls to the walls again at Treasure Island. After watching last Sunday’s run through I’m looking forward to this weekend. I feel a “gel” coming on. I’ve been elated, disappointed, excited, frustrated, happy and thoroughly pissed off and ready to go home and never come back at various points throughout the season …... sometimes all on the same day ……. and for all that I love this corps. I’m feeling as physically and mentally prepared as I can be and ready to surprise myself with what I, and the rest of this band of loonies, can accomplish.

We will never pass this way again.

See you "in the moment"