Calendar Girl

Could somebody please explain to me why I can’t find a 2009 At-A-Glance Monthly calendar? Does the At-A-Glance company know something that we don’t? Is the world ending in 2008?

And no, I don’t want an academic July-July calendar. I want a 2009 calendar.

Arrrgh.

It’s the Economy, Stupid

We had some “restructuring” today where I work. Not downsizing or firings or laid-offings… but a restructuring to ease some of the financial wrinkles of the current climate.

Of course, there are still people underneath it all– people who’s lives changed drastically today; people who had to make the decisions and carry out the manifestations of those decisions; people who reacted emotionally…

Our workplace has gone through other restructurings. (And some firings, downsizings, and laid-offings.) It’s never easy. Each time I am grateful to have survived another cutback. This time it’s more complicated. The boss is my friend which for some is impossible to ignore. My friend didn’t hire me (or let anyone go today)– our boss did. There’s a difference. I can understand why that difference is too subtle for some but I’m not sure what I can do about it. Go back 10 years and say, “Hey– we can’t meet and become friends because some day in the far, far future you might become my boss…”?

The world is a small one– especially in the Museum field– it would be a very odd stance to maintain a stark and distant proximity to everyone else in the field. Still– today, especially, people are reactive. The only thing I (or any of us can do) is do the jobs we’re supposed to do as good stewards of time and resource and skills.

And blame the economy. It doesn’t have any feelings to hurt.

Rocky and Horrified Picture Show (and 15 minutes of Fame)

Live theater is a beautiful art. It surrounds you and sneaks into the crevises of your mind and soul and quietly stirs up the thoughts you’ve tucked away. Theater’s all about evoking empathy– driving out the emotions like oxen.

Last night offered up two very different theater experiences– a summer stock production of Fame: The Musical and the local, monthly production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Fame lured us in with the promise of seeing our sweet niece Maddie. She and about 30 other teens and young adults conjured up 1984 and “living forever. (Re-mem-ba!)” It was a good rendition. It’s a little tricky to conjure up a 4 year Performing Arts school experience. New York is hard to squash on to a small stage. It’s a little gritty for a teenage cast– not your old “No! No! Nanette!” or “Bye, Bye Birdie” kind of play. It’s rampant with sex, drugs, and illiteracy. And an all-white cast seems a bit off for an urban setting… But the voices in it were, for the most part, strong and the kids seemed to genuinely enjoy working with each other.

It’s frustrating when you have dozens of kids all working together from all over our county and pulling off a really good product in the end to have half-full auditoriums. Where are all the crabby old people that bemoan the state of youth today? Why aren’t they parking their Amigo Scooters in the aisles to encourage such young industry? (Then again, maybe they should skip the first act that features Joe Vegas singing about being, well, hard.)

We’re proud of our girl. She danced beautifully– which we expected– and she sang her few lines in a sweet, clear voice that startled us. I’d hate to be in school with her– she’s good at just about everything she does and she’s pretty and she’s sweet and she’s well liked. (Of course, if I did go to high school with her she’d be nice to even me.)

During the intermission we checked my phone to find a message from our pal Chris who wondered if we might hit the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show. Robby and I have never gone to one of the live productions. We’ve been curious since we were teenagers– back then our town didn’t have showings of it. You had to drive to a college town.

For the uninitiated– RHPS is a terrible movie. But it’s achieved pop culture cult status. We, being the clean cut teenagers we were, would watch it at parties or sleepovers without really getting it– it was a rite of passage, perhaps. I never made it to the end of the movie. At sleepovers we’d wake up to the VCR’s weird buzzing and the light that came at the end. The last half hour (at least) was always lost to us.

Anyhoo– at the live shows you get to throw things and shout back at the screen. (For the record, I’ve always wanted to do one of the sing-along Sound of Music shows, too– and the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode…) Chris, Robby, and I had it on our list of things to do in the area. [When you grow up and live all but a few years in the same town it's fun to have someone come in from out of nowhere and make you reexamine your usual habits and haunts.]

Chris had been to RHPS before– so, as we walked into the theater we borrowed his swaggered confidence. They give you prop bags as you enter. It might be to distract the uninitiated from the scary goth people. I’m not sure. In any event– it worked– we were delighted with all of the mysterious things for us to use during the movie.

But first we had to sit through the pre-show. And this is where Chris’ experience failed us. His first time at a RHPS live show was back when he was 14 and his sister was in college. They snuck him in and he had about him the awe you have when you visit a college sibling. (My sister, by the way, took me to an Air Band competition and bowling. But I digress.) The point is, it’s been 25 years. A quarter of a century can make a big dent in social mores. RHPS has always been subversive and r-rated but it’s aged into a different entity. What might have once been tittered at is now somewhat mainstream so the subversion has to be anted up.

The pre-show was, to put it mildly, uncomfortable. The scary kids from the burn out sector of high school had grown up and put on costumes  and could laud their delighted power over the rest of us. Whips were cracked. Terrible things shouted at us RHPS virgins. The joke went on too long– and it hadn’t been a particularly well executed joke to begin with. We had a good time despite it all – Chris is a floor show in himself and entertained us while, around us, there was a host of other people to watch. In front of us two boys heckled the pre-show-entertainers. They were, on some level, Chris 15-20 years ago and we laughed at them. They were quick witted, for the most part.

The previews were clever spoofs of 1970s commercials and public service announcements. The well-crafted humor came as a relief after the existential stream of consciousness of the bitterly burned out crowd.

And then the movie started. Again– the RHPS has absolutely no redeeming qualities. You have a young Susan Sarandon in her glowy youth and a series of perfect set ups that beg you to shout retorts. Chris, who had the soundtrack as a teenager, sang along. We all did the Time Warp, we threw our rice, confetti, toast, cards, and toilet paper. We cowered under our newspapers during the storm, rang our bells, blew our noisemakers, and dutifully put on our party hats (and when we did the kids in front of us yelled, “Grrrrrr- yffindor!” which was, really, very funny). All the while a “shadow cast” acted out the movie on the stage below the big screen. A bit distracting sometimes.

I finally saw the last half hour of the movie, which, by the way, wasn’t any better than the first part, and, some 20 years after the fact, finally went through an American Teenage Rite of Passage.

I’m none the better for it– frankly, church seemed like an especially good idea this morning, but I had a great time. For a few hours the three of us weren’t responsible adults with children and careers and weighty matters– we were stupid college kids and, really, however inappropriate– that was nice. It was good to stumble into a Steak and Shake at 2:30 a.m. grinning over the complexities of knowing that all the people that were in the shadow cast must have day jobs– but where? Would we run into them at work? in a doctor’s office? Church?? I can’t remember when the last time was that I was crawling into bed at 3 a.m. without it involving an illness or work deadline.

All in all the juxtaposition of the two productions made for a disconcertingly memorable evening. Sweet, sweet Maddie on one side of it and the strange, night population of our town on the other. Just so long as Maddie’s not in the RHPS cast I’m good.

Chez Nous

My new favorite lunch place in town has had some great specials this week– chicken and pasta, steak hache, lambchops…

My Mom and her French husband, Eric, have been watching Jack most mornings this week while I’ve had stuff to do at the office. They’ve plied him with a kiddie pool and new pool toys, cookies, and expeditions to find frogs and worms. I pick up a happy kid when they’ve had him– he’s also usually pretty worn out and so I get a good nap out of him.

This week they’ve asked me to stay for lunch a few days– a nice way to end my official work day and transition back into Jack’s full attention. Eric does most of the cooking– it’s simple food which is my favorite. The best cooks employ salt and pepper and butter and maybe an herb or two– I like a fancy schmancy sauce once in a while but sometimes it’s over kill. At Mom and Eric’s table there will be mustard or pickles and bread.

Mom and Eric tend to eat like 19th century farmers who are planning on plowing the back 40 in the afternoon. It’s as though they have horses in the garage who are taking a rest and water. I type that with great envy. It’s my favorite way to eat. I like a big, big meal in the middle of the day and then a littler one at night. It’s just not conducive to the pre-retirement/working away from home life.

So, it’s a good lunch spot. Just make sure you call ahead to find out what’s on the menu. They’re not short order cooks– though there is a mean grilled cheese on the kid’s menu.

Back to the Future

Last night we went back to the 1980s. The planetarium is running a few shows this week. Chris, Robby, Jack, and I went to see The Beatles and The Orion Story.

Jack knows about planetariums– his TV friend Caillou visited one with his best friend. And the three of us had been to laser shows before. My conservative little college hadn’t kiboshed our going to laser shows (it’s not like they lead to dancing…) so it was a relatively common occurence for a bunch of us to drive to Cranbrook. Channeling their earlier experiences, Robby and Chris wondered if they should drink a lot before we went– but only ordered soda at dinner.

Our fears that it would just be the four of us were proved wrong– there was already a little knot of people waiting to pay their $5 admission. All in all there was about 60 some people. Not a bad turn out when the room doesn’t hold too many more. Our planetarium is little. The seats don’t recline back very far so you end up with a funny neck crick. It’s almost claustrophobic– the little round room with the domed ceiling. The walls are lined with models of rockets and space shuttles and little globes of the earth, the moon, and various planets.

Chris amused us with his Beatles trivia (it’s extensive) and Jack explored the room. There were a few really rough looking people in the room– apparently, according to Director Mark they’re former astronomy students of his… Huh.

There were three shows. The first was the typical little lasery drug trippy thing. A swan flies, floats, then inexplicably turns into geometric shapes that border on seizure inducing movements to electro-musak. In the 80s it was our future. We’d ooh and ahhh. In the aughts it makes us slightly uncomfortable– left hoping that we haven’t triggered some kind of stroke as well as a vague embarrassment that we once couldn’t imagine anything more technologically advanced. The swan awkwardly made it’s final appearance. The laser shapes didn’t morph into it cleverly– the swan just appeared then flapped aimlessly until it faded away. It was a little sad.

[Jack cowered and buried his head. He clung, whimpering, first to Robby then begged, "I hold Mommy!" until he could cling, still whimpering to me.]

The second was a lasery cartoon telling of the story of Orion. It was cute. We liked when Orion went blind. The sheep were a sarcastic lot. And the sound effects were vintage Hanna-Barbara. DIrector Mark got out his laser pointer and showed us the shapes of Orion and Scorpios in the sky. We squinted and tried to accept that the Ancients weren’t raving alcoholics– sure, Orion has accessories– a belt and a club and a shield… but no head????? Orion’s little dog friends have sky shapes, too. But one of the dogs is made up of two stars. A straight line? Huh? Yeah. We see it… “Two stars? Come on!” said Robby.  ”He’s the stick the other dog is chasing,” noted Chris.

[Jack fell asleep. His thin arms were still wrapped around my neck.]

The Beatles laser show was the usual laser show experience– albeit with a few Beatles shapes thrown in. The four heads of the Fab Four, the submarine, walruses, etc. Jack woke up during Ringo’s trip to the Octopus’ garden. The Beatles soothed his fears and he sat up, pointing, “Mommy! Look! An octopus!” (Thank you, John, Paul, George, and especially, Ringo.)

It was a goofy thing to revisit the 80s and I’m glad we did it. We don’t do enough goofy things. Though I’m still not up for the Metallica themed night.

I’m still gearing up for my first Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Home Work

Working from home is a whole different ball game. For all the advantages– better snacks, no watercooler klatches, no office politics… there is a list of hidden disadvantages.

The fact that a certain, defiant little tyrant upstairs refuses to take his nap today would be one. People in offices don’t have to coax their coworkers into naptimes.

Arrrgh

Technologically Texting Terri

[Technologically Texting Terri would be a terrible name for a children's book. It'd be the kind of book you get with your Taco Bell kid's meal-- those books they gave away last year were horrible.]

I read a blurb for a movie the other day. The movie is set in 1994– which, the blurb noted, was the last year before cell phones became ubiquitious. Huh. Keegan, the Younger Niece, was born that year. I was married that year. It puts things in perspective. It’s only been a Keegan since we could drive 10 minutes away from home without panicking that we were out of touch with our loved ones. Good times, those carefree, unconnected years.

Recently we updated our mobile phones. We’d had small flip phones that had a few little bells and whistles– I could play “Bejeweled” (albeit just the demo because we never shelled out for the whole game) and I’d managed to download two ringtones– “A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow (theme from A Mighty Wind)” and “All for me Grog.” We didn’t have cameras, we didn’t text. In fact– when we’d get a text we’d have a small panic at how much it might be costing us. On a scale of 1 to 10 we were comfortably in the middle– far enough from the Jitterbug crowd but also from the carpal tunnel afflicted thumb set.

I’m still old fashioned enough (or is it just polite?) to find table texting more than a little rude. There are exceptions– I was with some pals a couple of weeks ago and, while we waited for our food, we concocted a few silly sight gags to snap with their camera phones and send to farther flung friends. But I’ve also sat at a table wondering why it was a grown person couldn’t set their phone aside long enough to carry on a non-interrupted conversation. (It’s not like I was dining with a heart surgeon or the British Prime Minister.) I can set aside my 3 year old– you can put down your stupid phone!

We’ve kicked around the idea of updating our phones– we’re on a family plan with my mother and her phone was woefully unable to hold its charge any longer. Mine had been dropped a few times. And Robby’s was just really old. Robby scoured up some new phones for us and a plan that allows us to text, too. (At first he had us down for “100 texts a month” until he figured out that my nieces do that in the average 48 hour period.) Our new phones have more bells and whistles. I can play the demo version of Tetris now… but, so far, just the annoying at&t ringtones. We’ve spent enough money for a while.

My nieces, incidentally, are one of the reasons we upgraded. It’s how they communicate. For them email is just too slow and IMs aren’t convenient unless they’re at the computer– so texting is their favored mode.

Texting is fun– and it’s convenient in a “Don’t wake up my sleeping toddler” kind of way. Still– I vow here and now not to be one of those people that abandon all pretense of punctuation and the use of actual words. And there are places that texting is off-off limits. Theaters, church, and the bathroom all jump to mind.

The camera, we decided, paid for itself when we were gassing up the car last night and saw a man gassing up his car wearing a Speedo and a t-shirt. Thank goodness we could snap proof.

Anti-Art Fair

I hate the heat of late July. I wilt in it. It makes me cross and hurts my stomach.

Yet every year we walk out into the sauna that is the 3rd week of July to hit the Ann Arbor Art Fair.

We don’t really like the art. There are a few artists that we get excited about– the guy that made our can-can-dancing-ladies hooks… the jewish painter whose work hangs on the wall of the people down the street… the guy that does etchings of the vanishing old ballparks. So, while we make sure we never miss an Art Fair, it has nothing to do with the art– it’s all about the counter culture around the art. It’s the sidewalk sale at my favorite skirt store, the music, and Freak Row.

Freak Row is the non-profit block of booths. The Greyhound Rescue people, the Nudists, the Hare Krishnas, the little Chinese man that will write out your name, the A2 Polo Team that sells water… The juxtaposition of the booths can be delightful– this year was no exception with the Islamic information booth– with the two, traditionally covered girls sitting smack dab across the aisle from the Michigan Nudists with only towels around their waists.

Robby and I have seen Jesus every year at the Art Fair– or at least some guy(s) that look like the old 1950s version of him– long, wavy brown hair and beard and leather sandals– oh! and one year he was actually in a toga! We’re always delighted to see him. Usually he’s over by the food court near the Union– which leads us to believe that Jesus is, perhaps, fond of the homemade chips or shaved ice treats.

This year we took our pal Chris. He’s new to the area and so this was his first A2AF. The heat this year was particularly brutal– a good first visit experience. Of course, we never go during the day– we go as it’s winding down in the evening. The day is too filled with groups of women carrying whatever long and poking thing is being sold for gardens in a given year. 15,000 over-heated women carrying long poking things is not a good way to experience the Art Fair. We spared Chris that.

And we skipped on the Fair Food. It’s too hot to eat it… we went to our favorite sushi place where Chris mocked me for not actually eating anything raw and oceanic. (Bring me a little hotplate and a skillet and I’ll eat your damned sashimi… until then, I’m quite happy with my miso soup and tempura rolls. So back off.)

Out in the heat we passed Freak Row a few times– We introduced Chris to the fun!fun! concept of signing up people for various newsletters/email lists. (”So and so might enjoy learning about the Log Cabin Republicans!” “X will relish their new immersion in the world of the House of Light.”) Chris liked the nudists. He liked their enthusiasm for nakedity. He had some concerns, however, about their appearance. Not all body parts are equal and some, frankly, shouldn’t necessarily be shared with the world. I found the laminated photo of a happy nudist couple watching the football a little disturbing– the wife sat in her Packer sweatshirt and jeans with her completely naked husband next to her holding his beer with a bowl of chips between them. (”No.” I immediately said to Robby.)

Search though we did we could not find Jesus. This was disappointing– we felt as though we’d let Chris down. His first art fair and no sign of the messiah. Dang. Chris conjured up another little Biblical miracle for us– and a whole new Art Fair Game: Parting the Seas! Assume an expression of complete non-eye-contact (I went for “innocence” but the boys seem to enjoy “looking off into the distance with great concentration”) and walk through the crowd seperating as many couples/groups as you can. Handholding couples are the trickiest. Strollers are dangerous. Behind Chris Robby and I were laughing so hard it hurt at the wake of disoriented people in his wake.

Not quite finding Jesus but right up there.

Play Nicely…

Jack and I had a big morning today.

The Preschool he’s going to this fall had a “PlayDate” in the park. He’ll be in the 4s class– he’s one of the four new kids in it. The other 16 kids were in the 3s class last year… It’ll be an advantage for him in that there will be 16 little aides in showing him the ropes. And a disadvantage in the 16 already know each other and the routines of preschool.

The same could be said of the parents. I’m one of the 4 (or is it 8?) new kids this year.

Jack and I got out of the car and held hands as we walked towards the playground stuff. I’d stopped and picked up a chai-latte because I hadn’t eaten anything for breakfast and it seemed like it would be a comfort food thing to have with me. We found Mrs. Brown, Jack’s new teacher, and she remembered me from the visit we’d made several months ago and remembered Jack’s name from our application. It was a nice touch– Jack said hello to her then was off running towards the slides and climby walls. He’d made friends with some of the other kids in about… oh… 32 seconds. Little kids are good at that. They immediately fold in a new kid and incorporate them like whipped cream into the chocolate mousse recipe I make sometimes.

As for me, well, I was glad that one of the Mommies introduced herself and brought me in to her group to chat. I’m not really good at small talk. I don’t really like it. I have an appreciation for the people that are good at it though.

We stayed for almost 2 hours. Jack climbed and slid and chased and babbled. Mrs. Brown played with the kids a lot– they all seem to really like her. Jack and I did, too. I think she’ll be a nice addition to our world.

Last night on the phone I talked to my oldest friend– the one I met at the same preschool 34 years ago. I told her that I was nervous about today– about meeting new friends for both of us. And she reminded me, “Hey– just think! You might meet the Mom of Jack’s best friend!” It put it into perspective.

Who knows, maybe I did?

Tote that barge

I’ve been a little stressed out lately.

The only way I can think to describe it is this: sometimes, when I come out to the parking lot from the grocery store I’ve got too much in my hands. Jack and I like the little truck carts– but they aren’t supposed to go outside of the store. It’s the drawback to letting him happily “drive” through our grocery errands… when we leave the store I have to juggle all the bags and bundles. So, in the parking lot, I’ll find that, in one hand, I’ve got Jack’s little hand and in the other I’ve got all the bags/milk jugs and over both shoulders there is usually a few more bags. There’s always a moment in the parkinglot when I question the wisdom of this procedure. Obviously Jack’s little hand is moot– I wouldn’t let go of that for anything… but I start regretting picking up the extra things that now have my shoulders aching and my fingers turning purpley. I don’t want to drop any of the bags– something will get cracked or bruised or dented– or spilled… but the car always seems too far away.

Lately life feels a little like that. Not all of the little bundles and burdens are mine– some I probably shouldn’t carry at all but it’s just what happens.

At least I use recycled bags. I’ll take some comfort in that.