Red Nose

Inauguration Day (and Other Stuff)

I've only been to one presidential inauguration, that of John F. Kennedy. I was nine years old. Kennedy was the first Roman Catholic president, so all of us Catlicks were beyond thrilled. (In my Catlick school classroom were two portraits: the Pope and John F. Kennedy.) The only thing I remember about that day is that it was freezing cold. I don't remember the parade; I don't remember seeing the presidential motorcade. I just remember the cold.

So I'm very glad that it was not so cold today for President Obama's ceremony. Joe and I watched on TV and listened to the radio; I was very moved by all of the performers. The president's speech was impressive and forceful -- I was particularly happy to hear him mention Stonewall and be explicit about supporting gay rights.

We didn't watch the whole thing, because it's also Joe's birthday! He turned 60 today (yes, he's younger than I am by a whole year and three days), so we went to the movies to celebrate. We saw Hyde Park on Hudson, with Bill Murray as FDR and Laura Linney as Daisy, his cousin and mistress. It was very good. Bill Murray is a very good actor and his FDR was understated and subtle.

I had a great birthday weekend too! My sister and brother-in-law took us out to dinner Saturday night; I think we surprised them when the music started up at the pub and we joined in on a rousing version of The Wild Colonial Boy. Afterwards we divided up our Caps tickets and commiserated over their opening night loss.

I also sent in my request for an audition appointment. At 12:15 am. The rule was that you couldn't ask for an appointment before January 21 -- so I responded right when the day turned. I thought that the producers might think I was a bit nuts (and they would be right!) but I got a response at 9:00 this morning confirming my request! So it is on.

And it's not too late to vote for your favorite. The audition isn't until February 16, so I have plenty of time to prepare and be nervous.

Storm Weathered

When I saw this photo on my Facebook feed, I got very depressed.

Then when I saw this picture, I got more depressed.

That lake in front of my house is actually a yard and two intersecting streets. I thought, "Well, that's that. At least we have flood insurance." I wondered if we would be able to salvage any of the furniture -- maybe the TV sets and the stuff in the kitchen cabinets. If we were lucky, the beds and the dining table and chairs. We would certainly need new carpet; at worst, new drywall.

It made me tired just thinking about it, so I quit thinking about it.

Besides, the wind was howling and the rain was pelting right here, never mind Ocean City. Joe even taped the glass in the back doors and filled up the bathtub. We watched the ocean reclaim Atlantic City and invade Manhattan. Finally we went to bed.

This morning I got this text from SonnyeBoy:

Then I got this picture from my nephew.

Grass! Water receding! I began to think that maybe, just maybe, the damage would not be too severe.

And then? I got this text from SonnyeBoy:

So yes - the water got to the top of the front steps, knocked on the door, shrugged its shoulders, and left. We'll have to inspect the heat pump and replace the screen on the porch. But I could swear I felt the breeze from that bullet we dodged!

 

Aw Crap.

This could be interesting.

Image from Weather.com, with my annotation

Sandy is battering Eastern Florida even as I type. This morning many of the models were sending the storm past the mid-Atlantic and up into New England.

Now? More and more of them show the storm hitting hard right my backyard, late Sunday and all day Monday.

In fact, the Weather Channel guy on NBC Nightly News showed the two most likely scenarios. One of them has the center of the storm over Manhattan.

The other scenario shows the center of the storm smack dab over Ocean City Maryland. I'm thinking that if they could have honed in on that center it would have been right the hell over my house.

Evidently this has all the makings of a doozy of a storm, with a strong cold front colliding with the tropical air mass of the hurricane. In the worst case scenarios, there will massive snow in the mountains, severe coastal flooding and beach erosion, high winds and widespread power outages, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!!

But seriously, it's gonna be a nervous weekend.

Let Me Sum Up

Since I last updated, I have continued this absurd fixation with taking care of myself. I have walked every single day -- one day I even got off the subway one stop early and took the longer walk up the hill to my office. I also started walking to the subway after work instead of catching the work shuttle.

I know!

I have also lost a smidgeon more weight.

So now that it actually seems like I might keep this nonsense up, I spent the whopping sum of $2.99 on an iPhone Pedometer app that is pretty cool. It maps your route and tells you how far you walked, in steps and miles, and even shows your route on a map. I really like that feature because it showed our route around the lakes in our neighborhood, something I have not been able to do until now.

You can also track your weight, your measurements, and a whole host of other crap that people who are into that sort of thing like to track. I am tracking my weight, but that's it so far.

Lest you think I am going nuts, I will tell you that I baked an apple pie this afternoon. It is cooling even as I type, and I am planning on eating a nice generous slice of it later on.There is no reason to go berzerk on this stuff. (I did use a Splenda/sugar mix instead of all sugar, so I got that goin' for me.)

Last Sunday, on a complete whim, Joe and I went to a Nats game. We had a great time, even though the Nats lost. I sat next to a quite lively little guy -- maybe 8 years old -- and we had a lovely time conversing about the game.

Baseball is fun this year in Washington! My Pop used to take my sister and me to Senators games back in the 60s -- we got one Coke and a bag of peanuts each while he drank beers through the whole game. Sometimes, when we went to double headers, we got a hot dog! Anyway, even then the Nats (they were nicknamed the Nats back then too -- SeNATors, you see) never made the playoffs. When these present day Nats did, I found out that this is the first time since 1933! My parents were married in 1933!

Also reminding me of the 60s -- okay, the late 60s -- was the demonstration outside my office late last week. Yeah. About a hundred people gathered to protest foreclosures, bailouts, homelessness, and various other issues. There was chanting, there were banners and signs, there were even a couple of arrests. All it lacked was the National Guard and tear gas. I felt a wee twinge of nostalgia.

In other news, SonnyeBoy won yet another traffic safety award. He does not consider this to be a big deal and did not even tell us about it! (He nevah writes; he nevah cawls....)

 

Where I Stand

Every time I try to articulate my feelings about the movement to outlaw abortion, I can't do it. I get too angry, absolutely torqued up, completely livid.

Yes, Representative Akin and his ilk are dangerously misinformed about rape.

Even though his party has had the vapors over his "mis-speaking" and want him to withdraw from the race, they still want to outlaw abortion, in all cases -- rape, incest, health of the woman -- doesn't matter. Once you are pregnant, you forfeit autonomy over your own body.

Abortion became safe and legal in 1973. I became sexually active in 1970. I was gang raped in 1972. So, for three years, regardless of whether I became pregnant from making love with a boy I cared about or from submitting to four rapists who forced me at gunpoint, I would have had to break the law to end that pregnancy.

And, quite possibly, bleed to death like Gerri Santoro. Let's face it; outlawing abortion will, not. stop. abortion. It will only drive it underground. Women will die.

Because I am pro-life, I am pro-choice.

Thoughts on a Rainy Day

It's raining today.

Not a big thunderstorm or a brief shower, but a steady, gray rain -- sometimes light, sometimes heavier -- but always rain, soaking everything.

It seems right, after yesterday's tragedy. It would be wrong, somehow, to have a bright, sunshiney day today. The police have defused the first tripwire in the shooter's booby trapped apartment. The living mourn their dead; the wounded begin to heal, if they can, both physically and psychically.

And the man? That young man at the start of his adult life who stood in front of a movie screen and slaughtered as many people as he could? In custody, thank God.

That he is deranged is obvious. But how does that happen, I wonder? What flips the switch in the animal part of the brain and makes a person believe that mass murder is the only way to give life meaning? Drugs? Guns? Video games? Religion? Chemical imbalance?

All over the internet, all over the news, people of all leanings put out their theories. Some say it's because guns and bomb ingredients are shamelessly easy to get; another says that if only everyone in the theater had been armed, this would not have happened. Some say it's because violent video games, TV shows, and movies plant a seed in a mind that's dangerously unstable. Some even blame belief in evolution, or they say that the movement away from Jesus Christ is the cause. I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear that Fred Phelps blames it on those evil gay people.

Really, who knows? I doubt we ever will.

I certainly don't know. I really don't. I can't help thinking that once that switch flips, the deranged person will find a way to do whatever those inner demons say to do. It could be anyone, anytime, anywhere -- a switch flips and a decision is made. The Unabomber, Oklahoma City, Columbine, 9/11, Virginia Tech -- anyone, anytime, anyplace -- life is there, life is gone.

So call your parents and hug your children and hold your loved ones close. Keep on living.

The rain has stopped.

Non-Holiday

Well, Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!

For us, today was pretty much like any other Sunday.

We haven't really done much for Easter in the past several years. Since SonnyeBoy grew up, we haven't done the usual stuff like dying Easter eggs and assembling baskets and nibbling the ears off chocolate bunnies; because neither of us is particularly religious, we don't go to church.

Instead, we went to lunch. I had a taste for Asian-ish food, so we went to PF Chang's. It was really good, too. I had egg drop soup (a very nice version, not the usual bright yellow stuff (which I love, by the way) but more of a clear broth with egg and veggies) and Mongolian beef with spring onions. Lovely!

And instead of a special Easter dress, new spring coat, fancy hat, and patent leather shoes, I wore yoga pants and a sweatshirt.

Poor Joe is not feeling well -- allergies have been kicking his ass and this afternoon he spiked up a wee fever. I fed him aspirin and tea, and now he is tucked up in bed.

I will likely be joining him right after Game of Thrones.

 

 

Thank You for Your Service

When I was a kid, we learned this poem in grade school. It has stuck with me all these years. Remember to thank the vets for their service, not just today, but every day.

In Flanders Fields
John McCrae

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Thank you, Uncle Earl; thank you, Pop; thank you, FIL Bill; thank you, Cousin Buncie; thank you, my dear brother Jerry.

And to show just how brave and tough our soldiers are, I show you this photo of Michael Burghardt, a bomb disposal expert who got blown up by an IED and showed the enemy exactly what he thought of them. Read his complete story here.

Thank You For Your Service

Today Americans and Canadians honor those who serve in the military; those who protect and defend us from those who would harm us. There are lots of vets in my own family.

My great-uncle Earl served in World War I. My Pop and my father-in-law served in World War II. My cousin served in Korea. My brother served in Vietnam.

I am grateful for their service and for the service of all who serve, men and women. Too many come home in a box, either physical or mental. To go to war is a terrible thing to ask of them and I wish, hope, and pray for the day when their service will be unnecessary.

Revelry At Renn Fest

Yesterday I took the lovely and talented Deb up on her offer to get together and off we went to the Maryland Renaissance Festival.

We had a blast!

We actually had A Plan, which was to see as many shows as possible, interspersed with eating and drinking.

Notice that I did not mention "shopping." While I enjoy browsing in the shops, I have learned that I really have no need for a snood or a corset or a chain mail brassiere. I have plenty of jewelry and more art than I know what to do with. Handmade goblet? Got one. Floppy velvet hat? Yep.

So it's on with the shows!

Almost as soon as we got in the gate, a show started up at the nearest wee stage: Coeur de Lion, a Celtic quartet. Quite nice and a great way to start the day.

Next up, at the next stage down the lane, was Larksalot the Bald, who was ribald as well as bald, and who did, well, this:

Ten burly guys from the audience held the rope and another lay underneath as Larksalot juggled knives. No wonder the guy underneath was protecting his groinal area.

After Larksalot, we stayed put to see A Fool Called O and LaLa. I happen to know O -- he's a wonderful mime named Mark Jaster. I've seen his work several times, but I've never seen his O character. I'm so glad I have now! He and his wife Sabrina Mandell (LaLa) did a lovely act, including a most beautiful rendition of Somewhere Over the Rainbow on the musical saw (YES!) and ukelele.

After O and LaLa, we wandered over to the Royal Stage to catch Johnny Fox, an amazing sleight of hand artist and swordswallower. Yep, swordswallower. He's been doing this for 30 years -- that's a lotta swords!

After Johnny Fox, we were feeling a little peckish and thus repaired to one of the many food booths for some Steak on a Stake, after which we frequented one of the many pubs for a refreshing beverage.

On to the next stage for one of my absolute favorite Clown College alums, Michael Rosman, aka the Squire of the Wire. Michael is one of the funniest, most talented circus arts performers that I know. He's a wonderful cigar box juggler -- well, he's a wonderful juggler, period -- but the highlight of his act is his wire walking.

Yep -- more knife juggling, this time on a tight wire about 10 feet off the ground! (And under the kilt? Well... no, I can't tell. It would be wrong.)

We skipped the overcrowded jousting show and instead grabbed seats for Hack and Slash, the hilarious sword fighters. They were extremely loose for this performance -- the result, I think, of several trips to the ale keg. Nonetheless, they were very funny as only Hack and Slash can be.

By this time it was 5:00 and time to bid farewell to our ersatz 16th century.

Farewell! And Huzzah!