Spa day, without the spa

Today, I got a haircut, manicure, pedicure, facial, eyebrow shaping, and eyelash extensions.  I hardly recognize myself!  Seriously, the eyelashes are a bit much but what the hell, they'll be fun for a while.  It's nice to feel a little pampered and glam after having such a crappy week at work.

Why are surgeons such asses?

Why are administrators so clueless?

Why did I ever think nursing would be a great career choice?

I wish I were 20 years younger--not to be young again, per se, but to make different decisions.

Halloween 2012 official count

Well, between 5PM and 9:15 PM on Halloween, we handed out candy to 1,045 trick or treaters--a new record for us!  Sometimes when the holiday falls midweek, as it did this year, we have had fewer goblins visiting, but clearly that didn't happen this year.  It was chilly but not daunting, and a bottle of 20 year-old Graham's Port helped us pass the hours without too much distress.

I was too busy to take any photographs but the best costume was a kid in a Romney mask, suit and tie, with a nametag that said, "Hi!  I tell lies all the time!  I'm Mitt Romney, and I approved this message."  He got double treats for that! 

Lots of Captain Americas and Mario Brothers this year, I noticed.  Far fewer Disney princesses, Harry Potter characters, and Pirate lads and lassies.  Seemed to be a lot of ninja warriors, too.

Getting ready for......Halloween!

Halloween is a big event in our neighborhood.  No, I mean, REALLY BIG.  We have had over 1000 trick-or-treaters at our house in previous years.  Yes, you read that number correctly: over one thousand.  It's quite the parade of goblins, super heroes, famous personalities, princesses, axe murderers, and zombies of all sizes.  I purchase candy in bulk online and I'm not even going to write how much I spend because it's embarrassing.

There are lots of reasons our neighborhood gets so many kids.  There's a great density of houses.  There are sidewalks.  The houses fairly close to the street.  There's lots of parking on the street.  Many of us decorate and make our houses visible and welcoming.  And of course, the folks here generally have enough money to give out candy to all the visitors.  We're not talking full-size Snickers bars or anything extravagant, but it's not single sticks of gum, either.

My husband and I sit on the front porch from about 5-9 PM.  I have a crock pot of soup or stew for us to nosh on as needed.  We open a bottle of port to keep spirits high.  We invite neighbors & friends to hang out with us--the price of admission being a bag of candy.  It's just a great time, unique in my experience.  A huge percentage of the kids who come by are not from around here---I've seen buses pull up and discharge dozens of little ones, mostly black or hispanic.  This drives many of the folks around here crazy; they moan and complain about how they end up providing candy for what seems like the entire city of Durham.  Doesn't bother me in the least.  It's one night a year, and if these kids don't have a safe/convenient/prosperous place to trick-or-treat, I welcome them here.

Besides, I've gotten some great photos over the years!  Let me share a few with you.

This container is about 8" deep.

My daughter in her Lady Gaga Getup:

Betty and Don Draper came by, too:

Like I said, it's a great, fun night!  Wish YOU were here to share it with us!

Let me know about Halloween in your part of the country.......however you celebrate, hope it's fun, safe, and good weather!

Word of the Week

I've happily reconnected with one of the folks I met when I attended The Cabaret Conference at Yale in 2006, and I've been following her blog: wendylanebailey.com/pages/blog/

She's started a "word of the day" thread and I like that idea, especially since I'm such a wordy person.  I'm definitely not organized enough to highlight a new one every day, though, so this will be a "word of the week" venture.  But how to decide?  I could open the dictionary and randomly pick a word, I suppose.  But that seems like cheating, somehow.  Should it be a word I know and love?  One I don't know?  Technical?  Poetic?  Archaic?  Funny?  English has something like a million words from which to choose.....the possibilities are daunting.

For today, though, I will go with a ridiculously simple word, one which encompasses what both you and I are doing right now.  Ready, set..........READ.

To read.  Such a simple verb.  The object of many hours of labor to learn; the gift of a lifetime.  Everything we do, every day, requires reading.  You can't drive, or cook, or do your job, or effectively manage your life, without reading.  Reading takes you from the mundane to the heavenly.  I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have the incredible luxury of losing myself in some kind of writing, be it in a book or a magazine article or a recipe.  To read is to open up yourself to EVERYTHING.

It makes me sad when I talk to people and they say, "Oh, I'm not a reader."  How much richness they must miss!

So, let's hear it for books, for newspapers, for magazines, for Kindles, for libraries, and even for blogs!  Read something wonderful today, and revel in where it leads you.

Post-concert nightmare?

So, my concert, "The Songs of Fashion", was on Sunday night.  I think it went fairly well--still have to listen to the recording--but there were 9 people there.  Honestly, I don't know why I die the thousand deaths I die making everything happen for every concert, and then I get a turnout in the single digits.  Between me, Holly (the venue owner), and Preservation Durham (the nonprofit), I'm sure we notified 1000+ people of the event.  I know the return on invitations is traditionally low, but 1% seems ridiculous.  I have to say I was pretty bummed, despite my determination (see previous post) to not let it bother me.  Came home, dropped everything on the kitchen table, took an Ambien, put on my pjs, and went to sleep.  Didn't take off my makeup or brush my hair.  Then the next day I had a complete meltdown at work when I read my sweet husband's note on Facebook, which read:

My wife, Ellen, sang her heart out last night in a Cabaret concert supporting Preservation Durham--a cause that is self-explanatory. Songs all about fashion--plus a heart-melting encore--Jerome Kern/Dorothy Fields "The Way You Look Tonight." Thanks, dear one!

Well.

He's definitely a keeper.

Anyway, then I toiled all day at work, came home, couldn't sleep, finally fell into a fitful doze, and had THIS wicked nightmare: I was taking a house tour which, somehow, was being conducted by a man with a horse.  The abode we were wandering through was a mansion, with multiple rooms, all decorated in a very stark, modern fashion.  I was afraid of the horse at first but it was very friendly and the tour guide kept giving me treats like apples to feed the horse.  We got to the bedroom and I said I was really tired, so the man, the horse, and I all got into this ENORMOUS bed, so big that nobody was touching each other, and took a nap.  I got up to go to the bathroom and when I looked in the mirror, my head had changed into half me and half horse........then I woke up, screaming. 

Any amateur Freuds out there who would like to analyze that charmer?

Wicked headache today since my sleep was so interrupted.  I may go take a nap now.

BEST. SHOES. EVER.

I paid more for these shoes than I have ever paid for a pair of shoes in my entire life, but they give me SO much sheer pleasure I think they were worth every cent.  Here's another view:

That's 4-1/2" of height enhancement!  Really bad for my knees but really good for my soul!

Trying, always, to be fashionable........even in black & white

A few thoughts pre-concert

Well, my next cabaret concert is this Sunday, Sept. 30th.  I had what passes for the dress rehearsal today.  I say "passes for" because it was just the music, none of the patter.  I would have liked to run the whole thing but Glenn was pressed for time.  Arturo listened and gave lots of good feedback--he's such a perceptive coach.  Still, I'm feeling underprepared, since I haven't had a chance to really run through the whole thing, with piano, with talk. 

I get a lot of adrenaline from doing these things, and I always try to do my best--better than my best, really.  I feel I have a lot to share, and that I make the sharing entertaining.  Even if I just (just!) sat on a stool in front of an audience and sang songs, it would still be a fun evening, because Glenn and I work hard, the music is great, and my voice is good.  The context and the talking--the whole "cabaret ethic" takes it to a more important level.  It's more like performance art.

So why is it so hard to get an audience?  Is it really all attributable to this being NC and not NYC?  I've heard that anatomy is destiny, but does location have to be destiny, too?  Somehow, I get the feeling that even if I spent $1000 rehearsing and taking out ads and papering the usual spots with full color flyers and anything else, I'd still get the same turnout: 20 people minimum, 40 maximum.  Last time, it wasn't even that many: I think there were 12 people in the audience, and two were Arturo and Laura (husband and daughter).  It's very discouraging.  But when I think of NOT doing this again, that isn't tenable, either.  Yes, it's a bottomless pit of money and time, and it's frustrating.  But singing and presenting concerts also gives me great highs.  I've had such good rehearsals with Glenn!  We finally seem to understand each other, and are able to communicate without someone getting prickly about it.  He makes me think in new and exciting ways about music, and he finally respects my talent and insights, too.  Gosh, it's SUCH a wondrous thing---really, if I'm honest, what I was born to do.  This nurse stuff just pays the bills.  Singing is my soul.

So, I'm hoping with all my might that I'll look out at a packed room on Sunday, because that's a lot better than the alternative.  But no matter how many show up, I'll do my damnedest to please you, to make you laugh, to make you think, to entertain you and to show you my love.  I'll remember all those invigorating rehearsals, the laughs, the sense of wonder and discovery when an arrangement or interpretation "clicks".  I'll be "in the moment", as they say, and I will give EVERYTHING to my performance, my audience, and my art.  Swear to God, cross my heart, scout's honor!

Writing for fun and profit

About 2 months ago, we stopped taking the local paper, the Durham Herald.  This was actually a big decision for me and my husband, since we had been regular subscribers for 30 years.  So, we ignored the last bill.  After delivering the paper for a couple of weeks past our "subscription renew" date, one morning the front walk was empty.  About a week later, we got a bill for $12 for those last weeks of unpaid delivery.  Then, today, we got a letter with an offer to resubscribe at a new, improved rate, plus a questionnaire asking why we had let our subscription lapse.

Hallelujah, a chance at last to articulate what has been making me crazy for the past few years. 

I understand that newspapers, especially and specifically local ones, have really suffered with the change to electronic media.  They've been swallowed up by large corporations.  They've lost the local staff, folks who actually knew something about the city and the region.  They've lost advertising because of the economic downturn and because they can no longer brag about their wonderful subscriber base.  There's a generation of people to whom an actual daily newspaper is fast becoming a quaint relic of "olden times", right up there with paying bills by writing a check and sending it through the US Mail.  With a stamp.

Fighting these tentacles of change is, I'm certain, really hard, really disheartening, and probably destined to not turn out well.  But gosh, if I were in the newspaper business, I would die trying to save my honorable profession.  I'd use every trick I could possibly conjure to lure new subscribers and keep old ones happy.  I'd have a live person answering the telephone, and not one of those heinous computerized "press 1, press 2" option trees.  I'd make sure the folks delivering my papers to customers got an education in little things like actually putting the paper within reach of the front door, and making sure it was properly protected from the elements.  I'd give subscribers perks that were not available to others.  I'd do everything I could to make a subscription seem attractive, affordable, and absolutely essential in order to get one's fingers on Durham's pulse.

But most of all, I'd respect my customers--who are, after all, READERS--by making sure my newspaper was the best edited daily record I could possibly produce.  And oh, how the Durham Herald has woefully, miserably failed in that respect.  I can forgive a lot of things but not poor writing.  Over the last year, breakfast with the Herald has become a sport for my husband and me.  We each used to take a section of the paper and use a red Sharpie to circle grammatical errors, misspellings, or just plain big old mistakes.  (Whoever identified the fewest mistakes was the one who had to get up and refill both coffee cups.)  Not one day ever went by when the marker was not wielded. 

My all-time least favorite trick, though was the "Disappearing Article".  These were articles which were purchased from the wire services and reprinted in the Herald.  I have no problem with this as a concept; it keeps reporters, somewhere, writing, and it affords local readers information on national and international affairs that would be otherwise unavailable to them if they had to depend on the resources of the local press.  Almost every day, though, I used to find a good article about, say, the war in Afghanistan, or some explanation of one of the finer points of economics, I would get all settled in, and the article would JUST STOP.  As in, the editors just printed what they had room for, and to hell with the rest of the article.  Often I would end up going to the computer and looking up the article on the Associated Press website, just so I could read the rest of it.

How insulting to readers!  Did someone think nobody would notice?  Or that we don't care?  What could possibly be the justification for such a ridiculous decision?  I imagine access to reprints of AP articles is not free, that papers pay a subscription or membership fee.  So why bother to pay the fee and print only half, or a third, or a tenth of the article?  As many times as this particular scenario happened, it left me with the indelible impression that the Herald was basically using the AP stories as filler, to take up the space left over after all the advertisements were laid out.  And I just couldn't stand it another day. 

If the management of the Herald can convince me that they've really changed, I'll try again, because in fact I miss the daily local newspaper.  We subscribe to The Wall St. Journal even though I find their right-leaning editorial opinions offensive.  Skipping the op-ed page keeps my blood pressure under control.  But it's an incredibly well-written paper, which never insults the intelligence of its readers with misspellings, mislabeled photographs, or truncated articles.  And somehow they manage to get it to my door six days a week for $100/year.  Of course the owner, Rupert Murdoch, is subsidizing the paper to make sure it stays important and viable, and I get it that the Herald can't afford to lose millions of dollars a year.  Really, I'm not asking them to compete with The Wall St. Journal.  I'm just asking them to be the best local paper they can be.....but apparently, that's too much to ask.

September 18, 1981

It's my anniversary today: thirty-one years married!  Just an unbelievable number.  Not in terms of events, not in terms of experiences, not in terms of the ups and downs of life.  But where did the time go?  In some ways it feels like seven lifetimes ago that I was taking a long, hot bath in my parent's house, hoping the rain would stop before the ceremony at 5PM (it did).  Certainly I'm a far different person now than I was then.  But in some ways it feels like last week that Arturo and I started down the road of our lives together.  It's been full of bumps and detours, that's for sure.  But we're still here, a duo, holding hands, dealing with problems, laughing, sharing music and wine and movies and wonderful conversation and dear friends.  I'm humble, immensely grateful, and very, very happy today..........and I'm still hoping the rain will stop by the time we go out to dinner tonight.  Somehow, I think it will.

concert prep--Next Concert on Sept. 30th!

I've been working long and hard on preparation for my next concert.  I've probably spent a hundred hours or more not only actively rehearsing, but also just THINKING about the subject matter and the songs.  I often say in my shows that the "problem" with cabaret is that the more you look, the more you find.  No matter how few songs I initially come up with when I start preparing, ridiculously soon I have far more possibilities than I could ever imagine.

The show is called "The Songs of Fashion", but really it's turned into more a rumination on how fashion impacts everyone's life.  Even if you're a fashion hater and your idea of getting dressed every day runs to a t-shirt and jeans.  Even if you're a Tibetan monk and wear only red robes.  Even if you're a corporate guy who chooses which navy blue, black, or gray suit to pair with which pastel shirt and which diagonally striped tie.  Even if no matter what, you're still choosing to wear something which conforms or doesn't conform.  Heck, even if you're a nudist, it's still a fashion choice!

On the most elementary level, I suppose, clothing exists to shield us from the elements and to speak of our place in society.  (And by "clothing" I mean not only the actual garments but also all the accoutrements: shoes, hairstyles, makeup, eyeglasses, jewelry, tattoos......whatever is on you before you go out the door.)  People are trained from an early age to make certain choices about clothing.  It should be clean.  If there are two of them (like shoes, socks, gloves) they should match.  It should be seasonally appropriate if you'd like to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer.  In many ways it is gender specific, although there seems to be less and less of that nowadays.  Then, there's the economics.  Thrift shop?  Walmart?  Penney's?  Nordstrom?  Ralph Lauren?  Every item from hair ribbons to insoles exists in multiple incarnations for every pocketbook.   Heck, there's even an app, or seventy, to help you with your sartorial skills, or lack thereof.

And then, after you're all put together to your own satisfaction, what happens?  Someone else expresses an opinion.  "Where did you get that shirt?", of course, is a question whose intent depends absolutely upon the inflection of the inquirer.   Kids learn pretty early to distinguish designer duds in their peer group, and are abetted in this by wily creative types who make sure their logo and/or name is emblazoned somewhere on each garment.  And don't even get me started about the athletic apparel markets......

So everyone is touched by fashion, whether they like it, accept it, or not.  The choices each of us makes broadcast something very elemental about us.  Do you prefer classic or trendy?  Designer or no-name?  Hairy or clean-shaven?  Functional?  Haute couture?  Hippie?  Debutante?  Nerd?  Artist?  People all around us are drawing conclusions about us every minute, without ever talking with us or even making eye contact, all based on what we are wearing.  They infer intelligence, economic status, likability, political leanings, sexuality, and a myriad of other characteristics.  Naturally these conclusions can be right or wrong, and those folks will never know.  They happen, nonetheless.

That's a lot of introduction for a 70 minute cabaret show!  I'd never use all that on the stage, because after all this is entertainment and not a lecture.  But it's the kind of stuff I've been thinking about for months now, and trying to distill into 15 songs and associated patter.  Who ever said art was easy?  HAH!

As a teaser, here are the lyrics for the opening number, "Style", by Jimmy Van Heusen and Sammy Cahn.  (Van Heusen, by the way, was born with the name of Edward Babcock.  He decided that wasn't a good name for a composer and picked a new one, taking the name of the famous shirt maker--talk about STYLE!!)   Go to my website, www.ellenciompi.com, for information about my concert, "The Songs of Fashion", and watch this space for more musings!         Love, Ellen

Oh, and PS: be sure to comment if you come visit.  I LOOOOOOVE comments!
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Some people dress 'cause they dress when they dress,
But some get dressed to get dressed.
Always be sure when you walk out the door
Your sartorial taste is expressed
From the tip of your toes to your head,
Don’t look like an unmade bed.

You've either got or you haven't got style.
If you’ve got it, you stand out a mile.
A flower's not a flower if it's wilted,
A hat's not a hat till it's tilted.
You either got or you haven't got class.
How it draws the applause of the masses.

When you wear lapels like the swellest of swells

You can pass any mirror and smile
You’ve either got, or you haven't got,
Style!

You've either got or you haven't got charm,
Style and charm sort of go arm in arm,
With mother of pearl kind of buttons,
You’ll look like the Astors and Huttons.
You’ve either got or you haven't got flair

Here’s the plot: flair is what keeps them staring

Your coat must have scads, scads of wide Scottish plaids

And your shoes must be real crocodile

You've either got or you haven't got,
Style!

You’ve either got or you haven’t got taste

It’s an art, so be smart and don’t waste it

If you flaunt a skirt like the flirtiest flirt

You can pass any mirror and smile

You've either got or you haven't got,
Got or you haven't got,
Style!

Mother's Day! Concert!

My family hosted a great Mother's Day for me. Nature cooperated by providing gorgeous weather. I worked out in the yard for a little bit in the morning. Then Laura came over and cooked a scrumptious brunch for me, Arturo, and herself: asparagus & leek quiche, salad, and iced lemon cupcakes with fresh strawberries on top. Add a bottle of champagne and there's a perfect meal! After she left, Diana & Griffin came over for a while. I got lots of books, including the new biography of Robert Redford, plus I got the new Paul Simon CD, "So Beautiful or So What", which I had been lusting for. It will make the ride to work today easier to give it an initial hearing.

Had a concert sponsored by the Durham Library last week. We did a repeat of the "Hearts in 3/4 Time" show and it was far better than at the first g0-round in February. Amazing what a little extra rehearsal time can do! Too bad the audience was so sparse (I think there were maybe 25 people) but for once it wasn't my responsibility to do publicity, so I'm trying to let go of the disappointing numbers.

I'm so grateful for my family and all the good things in my life!

Osama Bin Laden's death

I'm posting some correspondence I had with a relative about the raid which resulted in the death of OBL.

My original Facebook stauts post:
From a speech, by MLK Jr., 8/16/67: "I'm concerned about a better world. I'm concerned about justice; I'm concerned about brotherhood; I'm concerned about truth. And when one is concerned about that, he can never advocate... violence. For through violence you may murder a murderer, but you can't murder murder. Through violence you may murder a liar, but you can't establish truth. Through violence you may murder a hater, but you can't murder hate through violence. Darkness cannot put out darkness; only light can do that."
**********************
My correspondent's response:
Hi Ellen,
I guess I should start with the obligatory...you know I love you and if we were sitting in a kitchen drinking tea I would be smiling, and calm and this would NOT be an 'argument starter'.
I am just so surprised by your comments regarding Bin Laden's death. You are a self proclaimed New Yorker and the man and his followers made New Yorkers and people all over the world live in fear wondering what evils would come our way by his hand. He master minded the attacks on New York that killed thousands. I saw families torn apart, friends going to many funerals and not to mention the FDNY who, by doing their jobs and being fearless, were killed trying to save others. It lead the news for months when in other parts of the ocuntry it was an after thought..a footnote following the news of that part of the country.
It was such a dark day for New York and Americans. I felt unsafe in large crowds and avoided going to the city for quite sometime. HE did all that to us!
I understand HATE is not a good emotion, but the man was pure evil and now he is no more. Understandably, there are others, who will glorify this evil into something wonderful and follow his path of destruction.
I just wanted you to know that although a few loved your comments and those of your friends...I venture to guess most people from NY didn't comment online for a reason.
***********************
And here is my response to her:
figure anyone who wants to comment, will, and anyone who wants to bitch about me privately will do that, too.

Please understand that I am not by any means underestimating the impact OBL's tentacles had on NYC and on the entire world. I despise what he did to thousands of innocent working people and heroic first responders. I have no doubt of his complete, unrepentant evil. Certainly nobody with that much blood on his hands deserves to be out walking around anyplace in the world. Most of the time I do not miss the so-called comforts of religion but occasionally I do wistfully long for the certainty of a heaven and a hell; it would be pleasing to think that the wicked were being punished for eternity. When I think of what the long-term effect of 9/11 has been on my city, our country, and our world, I could cry--in fact, I have cried. An entire thesaurus worth of epithets is not enough to describe the utter malevolence of this man and his followers. I agree 100% with everything you say about the evil he wrought.

What I also remember is the video footage of his followers burning flags and dancing in the streets after 9/11, and how it steeled America's resolve to take revenge. And what has come of it? Wasted money, wasted time. An all-volunteer military that is stretched to the limit with wars on multiple fronts. Horrible physical and psychological damage to those who come home from those wars. So many body bags that for years the government wouldn't allow them to be even photographed. Untold thousands of dead civilians. Ever-tightening circles of surveillance, agencies whose sole job is to monitor citizens like you and me, and a much-diminished political position in the world at large. Tragedy #2 of 9/11 is that America deliberately and systematically squandered the incredible store of international support and goodwill which that horrific day generated. The thing that set America apart from most other countries, up until somewhere around the turn of the 21st century, was our moral imperative. It's an intangible but very powerful asset, and it exists no more.

We can do a pretty good job of punishment here on earth if we so choose. Personally, I could think of a lot more horrible things than a quick death. I'd rather die than spend the rest of my life incarcerated. Kill someone and you can be as sure as sunrise that there is a faction that will elevate that person's execution to martyrdom.

I don't intend my thoughts to be a slap in the face to anyone, especially to my family or anyone who was affected by 9/11. I do not denigrate their fears, their sense of loss, and the upending their lives took. But (to say it again) I simply have no more stomach for violence. I don't see where it ever solves anything, not even on the smallest level. (By the way, do not confuse "violence" with "discipline"...I don't think any parent who whacks her kid's backside should be reported.) All it does is perpetuate the cycle of escalation, revenge, reprisal, and bitterness.

If you're still reading (which is likely but not assured!), I want to say I admire you for writing to me. It couldn't have been easy. You can share this as you see fit; perhaps those who are less understanding than you will get some small insight into how I am thinking, should they care to spend the time.

************
And that's all for this post. 'Nuff said.

Busy weekend, minus a voice

I had a little cold last week, and woke up yesterday without a voice. All I can do is croak or whisper. It hasn't cramped my style at all--I feel fine, lots of energy--but gosh, it's annoying. Between my impaired volume and Arturo's impaired hearing, we're spending a lot of time saying "What?" to each other!

We went to Rick & Erin's annual joint birthday party on Saturday evening and watched a rather spectacular rainstorm from the safety of their home. I've never quite seen the sky look so ominous--and the thunder--and lightning--yikes, it was awful, and impressive. Fortunately by the time we drove home most of the spectacular stuff was over. There were a lot of branches down in the yard this morning; I guess storms like that are nature's way of pruning.

I've been working a lot in the garden, weeding the iris bed & laying down new mulch. Also fixing all the bricks in the edge. It's good work because the results are immediate and obvious; however, all the time I am working outside, all I see is more stuff that needs to be done. I could put in 2-3 hours per day for a year, I think, and still have stuff to do. There are so many demands on my free time, between the house and the yard and the kids and rehearsing, and book club, and crosswords, and all the things I want to read, and all the movies I want to see, and updating my website, and seeing friends, and EVERYTHING! It's all good stuff and I am so very blessed to have these things in my life but they can be overwhelming.

Another project that has been taking up my time is working on my CD. The editing is finished and I have a master copy. Now I am working on the cover & artwork. This is more of a headache than I had anticipated, not because my designer friend is unhelpful, but mostly because I am having trouble articulating what I want from him. When you get right down to it, I'm not even sure I know what I want! It's easier to say what I don't want, but that's not very useful. In reality, probably none of this agonizing matters very much, since--let's face it--we are talking about maybe 200 copies that will ever be "out there". But still, I'd like it to be something I'm proud to distribute in every way. I'm so happy with the audio quality and I'd like the packaging to be wonderful too.

That's it for now. I'm going to drink another cup of tea in the hope that it soothes my vocal cords, and go to bed. Love to all!

Working Girl

It's been a busy time, what with shows to sing, holidays to celebrate, websites to update, etc. Obviously this blog has gotten shunted aside big time. But since I have a few extra minutes, I thought I'd jot down a few thoughts.

Here's thought #1: I wish I were rich. I'd do all the right things with money, like give some away, help my family, be philanthropic with my favorite causes, etc. And I'd travel! But the thing that would give me the most pleasure would be hiring people to do all the things that have to be done, that I hate doing. Like, cleaning the house. Tending the yard. Sorting through the "to do" list that never seems to get shorter. Actually, I don't mind cleaning, gardening is fun and relaxing, and there's a certain satisfaction in crossing chores off a list. But it all gets so tedious. Having these things done for me, so that if I WANTED to do some of them I could and wouldn't feel overwhelmed, would be sheer heaven.

Thought #2: I have three friends/relatives who have lost their dogs in the past year. Whether through old age or accident, they each spent many sad hours mourning their much-loved pooches. And yet each one has acquired a new pet. I don't understand; but then again, I've never been a pet owner. (Goldfish don't count, and the bunny we had was not exactly an interactive family member.) It's like saying, my 12 year old child died, so I'm going to acquire another child to make up for the loss. I'm not condemning--I get it that this is clearly my inability to empathize. But I just don't get it.

Thought #3: Creativity has to be nurtured. It needs time & space, encouragement, support, feedback, and critical interaction. Gosh, it's hard to be an artist when doing it is another thing on the "list of things to do".....see thought #1 above.

Thought #4: Anything that makes you laugh is good!! I've been listening to old George Carlin routines and I am falling out laughing. The one that really got me going was about things that pissed him off. One was "people who put bumper stickers about their child's school on their cars", which is something that makes me crazy, too. He proposed a bumper sticker that I wish I could have made, because I would put it on my old van in a heartbeat: "Proud parent of a child who has enough self-esteem that he doesn't need his parents trumpeting his minor educational achievements on their car's bumper"!!

Thought #5: It's time to go to bed. Enough computer time for one night!

Core values

I was given an assignment by my therapist to write down some of my core values. Being, at heart, a diligent student, I have worked hard on the task, and have come to the conclusion that it was a very smart and sneaky assignment. The process of thinking through these things has really helped me readjust my outlook and let go of the awful "dog" of depression that so plagued me at the end of the summer.

In the process I've discovered that I'm a moderate....my writing sounds like the "This above all, to thine own self be true" speech of Polonius in "Hamlet". I kept coming up with words that were little fulcrum spots between extremes. Words like "tidy", rather than clean vs. messy. "Thrifty", rather than cheap vs. spendthrift. Maybe moderation and balance are qualities that become more appealing with age? I used to be so hard on myself, with so little tolerance for anything less than perfection. I still have no use for fools, misspellings, pomposity, bad pitch, people who wear medical scrubs in public, ads for prescription drugs, nonsensical rules, the editorial content of the Wall St. Journal, invasive thorny vines, most popular music, middle management, telephone trees ("press 1 to report a problem"), over-familiarity, and too many other pet peeves to detail here.

But I have a weakness for anyone who sings when they work; those who are kind to old people; anything that makes me stop and take notice (like the display of pomegranates in the grocery the other day); attention to detail in otherwise unimportant things. I like punctuality. I'm a big fan of courage, especially when paired with a smidge of braggodocio, as when John Hancock signed his name to the Declaration of Independence so large that the King could see it without his glasses. Make me laugh and I'm yours forever. A good argument is a wonderful thing--but the emphasis here is on "good", where points are argued with vehemence and conviction, from a place of knowledge and passion, and never descends into the personal.

People have often asked Arturo, "How did you decide to be a musician?", and his response is always, "I didn't decide. It picked me." I am a total, drop-dead fan of people who fall into that category in any pursuit, and have nothing but pity for those who just muddle along. I am acutely aware that as an educated, healthy, white, upper-middle-class American, I am disproportionately blessed with advantages, but I surely have seen many similarly blessed who squander their assets. Give me passion above all!! Otherwise, why bother living?

Pre-Halloween Thoughts

Gee, the last time I wrote something was in August, and it started out with "I'm depressed". Thank goodness things have changed! I'm still distressed about the state of the world; about what may happen after next week's elections; about my continuing nursing/singing dichotomy; but I no longer feel so tortured by it all. Maybe it's the passing of the ridiculously hot weather? Fall is such a great time of year. Maybe it's the few talks I've had with Jim, my very occasional therapist and always good friend. Maybe it's the mere fact that I had two weeks vacation in September. Whatever the reason, I do feel lots better, and I celebrate the change.

Sunday is Halloween, always a big to-do on Club Boulevard. Last year we had over 800 kids, and I expect at least a repeat number this year. Friends are expected to spend a little time on the front porch with us. It's a great way to catch up and enjoy some seasonally-appropriate port, or sherry, together. If you're reading this and you're in town, do feel free to drop by. The show of trick-or-treaters is unsurpassed and the company is tops!

We are also attending a wedding on Sunday afternoon. I haven't been to a wedding in so long. Our kids' friends are not yet of marrying age (at least not of their generation!) and of course most of our own cohort of friends are long settled. So this should be fun. Plus I've been asked to sing with the band--always a big plus in my book.

Glenn and I did a gig at Guglhupf restaurant a couple of weeks ago, and I had a lot of fun. Much less pressure at a restaurant venue than in a concert hall--it was easy to relax and get in the swing of the evening. Many of the ladies from my book club came, plus some friends from work, some familiar faithful fans, and my lovely Laura, who has matured into a delightful, thoughtful, intelligent, lively, and totally satisfactory young woman. A treat to be around! We went to dinner earlier this week and spent the evening in deep yet entertaining discussion, plus the restaurant (Revolution) was tops and the wine Arturo gave us (a Rioja) was just perfect.

So much to be thankful for......who cares if we spend $150 on Halloween candy? Let the wild rumpus begin!

The Evils of the World

I have been depressed for the past couple of weeks. There are a few reasons I can readily identify: lots of new aches & pains that have effectively prevented me from going to the gym for the past couple of months, including a flare-up of the nurse's curse, plantar fasciitis. This is THE WORST. The first step out of bed in the morning, or after sitting for a while, is just awful. And the treatment: take anti-inflammatories, try to stay off your feet, and use ice on the affected foot. Then wait six months.

I'm also starting to feel old for the first time. My birthday was last week and it was neither a "big" number nor really a particularly impressive one (I'm officially 53), but it's just left me more than a little blah. I look at Diana--she is so gorgeous, so young, so untroubled, so on the cusp of life--and while I am proud, it also makes me feel tired, and uninterested in my own life. I'm not envious: good God, I wouldn't be 22 again for love or money. But the knowledge that I'm probably 2/3 done with this life is more than a little sobering.

Then there is the nagging memory I cannot put behind me. In my work, I have seen birth, death, trauma, medical mayhem, miracles, and just about everything in between. Most of it I brush away, or perhaps save for when I need a story as a cautionary tale: don't smoke, do you know what cancerous lungs look like? I do! But a couple of weeks ago, I saw something I cannot dismiss.

A four year old girl was airlifted into my hospital for emergency surgery. She had been horrifically, satanically, sadistically abused. She needed an immediate craniectomy because she had subdural bleeding. When the surgeon took off the skull plate to relieve the pressure and evacuate the hematoma, her brain swelled so much he was unable to reattach the skull flap. In short: not a survivable injury. Which is good, because the rest of her poor little body bore witness to the suffering she had sustained. There were bites around the perimeter of each of her nipples--it looked like someone had attempted to bite them off. She bore laceration marks that the pediatric surgeon said were from ligatures--she had been tied to something. Her body was so bruised it was hard to tell she was a white girl. Part of her earlobe had been nibbled away, possibly by vermin. She had burns. She had been sexually violated. FOUR YEARS OLD.

What kind of human does this to an innocent child? What kind of society puts up with it? There was a lot of coverage in the press, and a lot of outrage expressed by law enforcement personnel, child protection agencies, and the like, but her case is neither the first nor the last this month, or possibly even this week. How can anyone believe in a loving and all-embracing God, if he lets things like this happen?

None of these are new questions. Philosophers, clerics, and wise men of all stripes have been wrestling with them for ages. I'm old enough, and cynical enough, to know that there are no answers except that evil is here in the world. I'm just tired--tired of reading about it, tired of people who have power who do nothing about it, tired of people who tolerate it, tired of people who incite it, tired of everything.

In fact, the only thing I'm not tired of is being tired, because I can't sleep. Her face haunts me--especially the face in the photograph that was published in all the papers when, after three days in the ICU, this little angel was mercifully taken off life support, and allowed to die. The sweet face with the pigtails and the shy smile so little resembled the visage I saw that night in the O.R. that it cuts to my soul.

There's a quote by Lily Tomlin: "No matter how cynical you become, it's never enough to keep up." God help us all, it's true. I have lost some joy, gained some years, and exponentially upped my cynicism quotient after this experience. Ironically, though, I may have acquired a smidge more religion than I had before, because I would so very much like to believe that there is a heaven, and this child is in it. Rest her tortured soul, she'll never feel pain or fear, or cry, ever again.

Memorial Day Weekend

Well, I am on day 4 of being off 6 days in a row and I have to say it's feeling just great. I've rehearsed, gone to the gym, had a marvelous dinner with dear friends, and just chilled out. Tomorrow there's a concert on the books, and then Tuesday is another rehearsal and then dinner club. Life is good, I am very blessed.

Of course, that many blessings make for boring writing, and reading! Conflict, upsetment, doubt, rage, guilt, greed, lust, envy, and the other deadly (and not-s0-deadly) sins make for much better copy. This is probably why I am fascinated with reading about the tragic travesty taking place with the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. There are more than enough sins to go around in that situation. Will it all get cleaned up in my lifetime? I'm thinking there's a good chance the answer is "no". The photos of the spill, the oil-soaked wildlife, the befouled coast line, and the audio of the endlessly prattling bureaucrats and politicians and scientists are eerily compelling. It's like slowing down to look at an accident on the highway.

Just finished reading a book about Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, and how they became friends & business colleagues, formed the steel industry, fought the nascent unions, fought with each other, and ended up bitter enemies (albeit rich ones). A fascinating story. The personalities are so vivid! I think it's because there are such rich primary sources (letters, cables, minutes of meetings, etc.) for historians to mine. I wonder what kind of biographies and histories of the electronic era will be written when the primary sources are as evanescent as the life of one's computer memory, or the technology with which to decode it.

Thoughts, anyone?

How curious

Did a concert on Sunday night and for the first time in my performing experience I think the audience didn't like it. Or, they liked it but they didn't feel like clapping. I don't know. Arturo and others in the audience who have heard me before said I did a great job, up to my usual standards, and it was the listeners who had the problem. It was such an odd feeling: lots of things that in the past have been sure-fire laugh getters or audience pleasers just kind of fell flat. In one way, it made me work harder, but then at a certain point I realized I wasn't going to cajole or invigorate or cattle-prod them into being "into" the evening, so I just figured, the hell with it. I'll do the best I can for ME and I'll just have as much fun as I can. But it was very hard to relax & carry through with that intent. It was like there was a big wall out there between me and the audience.

Maybe it was too much of a "holy" crowd for the material? There's no way to know. Nobody forced them to attend......they could have just sent a check for the charity & skipped the show. My friend Britt said that everyone seemed more interested in the food than in the entertainment. (The leftover scraps I was able to taste after the performance WERE really good.) I believe she used the word "stampede" to describe the general hubbub when all the food was put out. Maybe everyone had postprandial doze syndrome.

Whatever the cause, it was a very odd sensation. I can see why young performers could take a [non] reaction like that very personally, feel rejected, etc. Thank God I have more sense/ego than that. But it's a feeling, and an evening, I'd not care to repeat.