Christmas at Grandma's House

    Christmas always makes me remember being a child; the carefree times of no school, no homework, no presents to buy, no worrying about the commercialization of the holiday, just the glorious, no-holds-barred selfishness of getting presents and having fun. Remembering Christmases past also always makes me remember my maternal grandmother and the Christmases spent with her. My mother comes from a very large family, I believe she had 10 brothers and sisters (I hope I didn't miss anyone when I counted) and a Christmas gathering was a big deal. Over the years we celebrated some times at the old fellowship building adjacent to the cemetery over at Ross Grove Baptist Church, which housed many fun and fond memories of it's own, and sometimes at grandma's house and to me those times were the most memorable and magical of all.
     Grandma lived in an old, green farmhouse on what was once the edge of town, the town has now grown all around where it use to stand; it was big and rambling by today's standards but not fancy or for show, a very utilitarian house, built to make a puritan farmer proud. There was a wide front porch that ran the length of the main rooms, there was a porch swing, rocking chairs, gliders and folding chairs enough to sit many a aunt and uncle on nice Sunday afternoons while all us kids ran about the yard. It was a Norman Rockwell front porch if ever one existed. The front door opened into a shotgun hall that, when all the doors in between were open, allowed you to walk in the front and see clear out the back; doors opened to all rooms off this hall to allow for cool evening breezes to blow through on warm summer days. That long hall was divided in two, with the door between usually closed making more of a sitting room than an entry hall, it housed a couch and later on a piano and a bookshelf with old Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books that my aunts and uncles and maybe even my mom read as kids. The first door to the left led to grandma's bedroom,(it was grandpa's to as well, I suppose, but he passed away when I was young and I'm afraid I don't have many memories of him, the main one being him sitting in a chair on the front porch drinking water from a mason jar and giving me a penny any time I gave him a hug) you had to pass through her room to get to the living room; there were heaters in those two rooms, I suppose that's why they were laid out the way they were. As you entered the living room you passed a foot powered sewing machine on the left and the door to the back hall on the right. There was a very uncomfortable foldout couch that my cousins and I tried to sleep on from time to time (that now resides in my mother's den) a recliner, the furnace, an small t.v. where we'd watch Ma and Pa Kettle reruns after Sunday lunch, and a shelf with a telephone and a tape deck. The only tapes I ever remember seeing there were of Jimmy Swaggart preaching, stacks of them. From the living room you went into the kitchen, small for such a big house and family, but man-o-man the food that was made there was food to fit a king. It was an eat in kitchen with not an once of room to spare. (Not to blame my grandmother for anything but I can't help but wonder if her constant supply of homemade fried apple pies, snacks, and you'll hurt my feelings if you don't clean your plate looks haven't led to my overeating habits of today.) There was also a medicine cabinet in the kitchen beside the fridge where grandma like to hide her candy, not that she'd ever refuse to give it to you if you asked. Off the kitchen was a back porch that had been built in, you could tell by the window that looked into the bedroom that faced it. Out on the back porch was the bathroom, a latter edition to the house, and a small room where some of my uncles old toys and things were, it was a room in which we'd like to, and grandma would tell us not to, 'ramble' (her word). Coming off the back porch was the back hallway, always dark and dim, lit with a single bulb hanging form a cord. There were shelves stacked high with home canned fruits and vegetables from the garden out back, one door leading to the living room and one leading to another, very large bedroom and a set of stairs going to the attic. The bedroom, I don't remember much about, I never spent much time there, I do remember there was a door that was never used that led to a veranda of sorts that connected it to the front bedroom. The stairs in the hall led to a bewildering and sometimes scary place, to me anyway, the unused and only partially finished attic. There were alcove windows and a chimney that was opened to the sky and, worst of all, a gaping opening that led to open attic space that was always, even in the brightness of a noon day sun in the summer, pitch black as the pits of hell, where a young boy with an overactive imagination could just about see the devil standing just out of view. Not that the devil would ever show his face at grandma's, she walked so close with Jesus why she'd have the devil by the ear making him sing Just a Closer Walk with Thee in no time at all. Not everyone saw her as a saint I'm told but to my young eyes she was everything that was good and holy in the world wrapped up in a short spit fire of a woman, a cross between Aunt Bee and Mother Teresa. If we were Catholic I'm sure she'd been canonized by now. As we leave the darkness of the back hall back into the light of the front we come to the last door, it would have been to the right when we first walked in, and for all my life it was know as the front room. Even today when I talk to my cousins we call it the front room and it was there that Christmas would happen.
     The front room was as big as the back bedroom that it shared an unused veranda with and it was split into by the layout of the furniture. Half was a sitting area and half was a guest bedroom with a dresser where Christmas presents were hid behind, don't know if I was suppose to know that, but I did. The sitting area featured some couches, a coffee table with a nut shaped bowl of nuts and a nutcracker (not the toy soldier kind but the good silver handled kind), a coal burning stove, and (wait for it)... a Christmas tree. I'm told that at one time the tree would make a yearly journey from the attic to the front room but as far back as I can recollect it lived there all year long, just waiting for Christmas to have it's lights lit so it's magic it could work. Since we were only allowed in the front room on special occasions we never saw it too much during the year. On Thanksgiving we'd go in there and draw names for who you were going to buy a present for (there were way to many of us to buy something for everyone) and then on Christmas we'd all crowd in to see who got what from who. After the Christmas meal we'd wind our way to the front room where us kids would fight over who got to be 'Santa Claus' handing out the gifts to everyone and then we'd rip into em, merciless we were, caring not how long it took someone to wrap the present. Then it was time to play, thankfully in those days you didn't need a tool kit to open a toy package, we kids would play, fight, make up and cry, you know, normal kid behavior until our parents dragged us back to our respective homes. Of course Santa was coming so I'm sure we didn't put up to big a fight. One toy I got  in particular I can remember from those days, it was an Evil Kenevil play set (yes, I was a child of the '70s). It came in a plastic container with a handle and the container would open up to reveal a grandstand of cheering fans and a track for Mr. Kenevil to ride his bike across, his cape whipping in the wind.
    I'm glad Rainey got to know my grandmother and got to spend at least a few Christmases at grandma's house. The two of them are a lot alike in some ways, not the least is how important they have both been in my life. Time, as they say, waits for no one and marches right along; we grow up, get married, and start having families of our own. Grandma passed over the great divide in 1991 (I think that's right) and even though mom's family still gets together every year (good luck figuring out who all those kids are running around), it seems each year the gathering is a bit smaller. Now we meet at someone in the families church, the old fellowship hall at Ross Grove is no longer in use, and grandma's great old house has passed on as well, it was just going to be to expensive for the new tenants to update everything.
    Now my kids get to spend Christmas at their grandma's house (and grandpa's still here alive and kicking too, thank God) making memories that will linger with them when there old and bringing their children here to visit us for Christmas. They play with their cousins and fight over who's going to play 'Santa Claus' and give out the presents and all the other things that kids have long loved to do on Christmas. Until eventually we drag them home, because, after all, Santa Claus is own his way.
     Looking back it seems like that house was just as much a character in my life as the family that lent it their life and love. You know there are lots of stories told of what awaits us beyond the grave, even among Christians the ideas vary depending on who you ask, some say that when we get there will get to meet and see our loved ones once again. If that's the case, then I hope some day will gather in an old green house on a street of gold, over looking the crystal sea and spend Christmas with grandma once again.
    

     Merry Christmas Everyone.

Why I'm in School

I had to write a personal narrative about why I decided to go to school for an English class I'm taking; I thought it'd make a pretty good blog, so here it is. (For you grammarians that may read this, I've already turned it in, so you can leave the correcting to my prof.)

Why I’m in School

            There’s an old folk-tale about a man named John Henry; John Henry was a steel driving man. The story goes that John Henry would swing his hammer from dusk till dawn, and never slow down. Then one day, in a Herculean effort, John Henry beat a steel driving machine. Some versions of the tale say Henry died the next morning, others say he died right there with the hammer in his hand. Now I’m not a steel driver, but I am a carton slinger and I don’t want to die with a carton in my hand. So I’d say the main reason I’m in school is to gain the skills that will allow me to move on to a better, hopefully, less labor intensive job.

            As I contemplated this assignment I came up with many an idea to use. Some I thought of for their elegance. Some I thought would sound good in a narrative. But there were three reasons that, like common denominators, all the others reduced to. The three reasons are: money, acquiring skills, and, as stated above, a physically easier job.

            I believe I’m very skilled at the job that I do, but it’s still classified as an unskilled position. Most people could come in off the street and learn to do it in a few days time. While there are a handful of higher paying jobs I qualify for, they are few and far between; you have to have a good bit of seniority built up to acquire them. So I realized that I’ve got to be satisfied with where I am or I need to learn the skills that will help me get a higher paying, skilled job.

            While looking through the course catalog, trying to find what skill set I’d be interested in learning, I came across the Facility Maintenance Diploma Program. This program touches on a number of different skills: electrical, HVAC, plumbing, welding, carpentry, and machining. I thought not only will this provide me marketable skills but it will allow me to see where my interests lie; I can see if I’d like to specialize in one of the fields. Also, as a home owner, these could be very valuable skills in themselves, even if they never lead to a better paying job.

            The above reasons I’ve thought of for a couple of years now; they are very good reasons yet neither of them actually catapulted me up that long flight of steps to sign up for classes. I said I was a carton slinger, and while that’s not my actual job title, it’s more to the point. I throw cartons onto a conveyor belt eight hours a day, 40 hours a week and it’s beginning to take its toll. I’m a 40 year old man doing a job better suited for 20 year olds; the old joints don’t bounce back the way they use to. I had received the flyers, “It’s not too late to go back to school,” for years but this year they hit their mark. After a few, extra, rough days I signed for financial aid and as soon as it was approved I was here at CCC, signing up for classes. I may never get rich, or be the next Bob Villa but hopefully I can avoid dying with a carton in my hand.

 

Bartleby

Bartleby is a very strange and at times surreal movie experience. In came out in 2001 although I had never heard of it until recently. I found it while rummaging around on Netflix one night and finally got around to watching it yesterday. My 10 yr. old and my wife watched it with me, when it went off the 10 yr. old asked, "What was that about?" and my wife said, "That movie lasted about and hour and 1/2 to long." I liked it, it was weird and very strange and appeared to have been shot on a very low budget. I thought it was from the 80's, it wasn't until I looked it up on IMDB that I saw it had come out so (relatively) recently. The movie centers around and office manager played by David Paymer and his strange new employee Bartleby, played by the awesome Crispin Glover. Paymer's character runs a small public records office, he has a secretary and two employees until extra work load leads him to place an add for a new worker, the only applicant is Bartleby and so, despite his strange mannerisms, he's hired. He works well for awhile but then one day he's asked to do something and he responds, "I'd rather not." This becomes a sort of catch phrase for him and as the film progresses he begins answering, "I'd rather not." more and more often. I don't want to give away anything that happens but this progresses to it's furthermost conclusion. To answer the question my son asked, "What was this about?", I answered that I believed it was about non-conformity. I've thought about and talked about the movie some today and I believe my first assessment was right. Everyone at the office conforms to what their suppose to do and even though all the characters have their quirks, they conform to what their stereotypes are, everyone except Bartleby. Bartleby stands there staring at the air conditioner vent preferring not to work and it drives everyone else to distraction, especially the boss. Something is obviously wrong with Bartleby, but we're never told what or why he is the way he is, he prefers not to talk about it. His nonconformism goes to extreme measures (if just standing there preferring not to do anything can be considered extreme) and infects others. I loved the last scene in the film. The movie isn't a call to nonconformism because it shows what an outcast it can make you, it's more an illustration of how we all fall in line everyday without usually even realizing that we are.  The movie is based upon a Melville short story titled, Barleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street, I've not read this but I'll have to keep an eye out for it now.

3 things

    I thought I'd throw a blog up here, just for the fun of it, and three things came to mind. They are in particular order theater, the RNC and Doctor Who.
   First off lets discuss that demanding mistress the theater. Theater is a hobby and it's art and it's very time consuming. Performing is a thrill, it's a rush and a raw nerve. I'm sort of past the point of having butterflies but that doesn't mean I don't fret and worry when it's time to hit the stage. The biggest fear is forgetting the words (words, words(to borrow from Shakespeare). But that's what all the practice is for so that either you wont forget or you'll have the presence of mind to carry on if you do. Last night I sang both with an ensemble group and as a solo performer for the Greater Shelby Community Theatre's season opener and it was a lot of fun. From what I could tell everyone had a great time.
  Secondly the Republican National Convention (RNC) had their big convention down in Tampa last week, I didn't watch it mind you, but I saw bits and pieces of it on the news and on the Daily Show. I actually tried and failed to suppress a laugh when someone asked me if I was watching it. You might could tell from my reaction I'm not a republican but I also have no plans to watch the DNC either. I can think of a lot better things to watch than a bunch of mostly like minded people blowing smoke up their collective asses. Because as one the RNC folks said, and I'm paraphrasing here, we're not going to let facts get in the way of our convention. I'd like to make an appeal here to the RNC though, come back from the fringe. A few months back when the primaries were just getting started I was interested and was thinking I might could be swayed to the republican side (I've voted on both sides in the past) based mostly on the debt crisis in Europe and the fear that it could spread to us. But as the primaries wended on they began moving more and more to the far right and the crazies started taking over the party. I think now that Mitt has won the nomination he ought to say psych and flop back to the center to left repub. he use to be.
   Speaking of better things to watch, Doctor Who's new season premiered last night and it was awesome (like I would expect anything less from Moffat). We got a very curious look at the new companion (the very smart and beautiful new companion) that will be taking over in the Christmas episode this year. That of course means will be saying goodbye (as much as you can ever say goodby in a time traveling show) to Amy and Rory, which is sad but it's also a staple of the show. I saw an interview with someone involved with the show, I can't remember who right off, that said the show is really about the companions adventures with the Doctor, that we see the show through their eyes. So a new companion means a whole new world of possible stories. Doctor Who is such a fantastic show, it's drama and scifi and horror and comedy and the new incarnation of the show is even more fantastic than ever.
   That's it folks, three and out, time to punt.

Completely 100% free of chicken controversies.

The GSCT season opener is coming up in a few weeks (I'm not sure of the exact date, although I should be) and I've been asked to once again impersonate the King of Rock n' Roll, Elvis Aron Presley. At first I didn't really want to because it felt like it was just a year or two ago when I'd done this but then I realized it's been more like 5 years. Still, personally, I think I'd rather do Perry Como or Dean Martin or maybe pull out a Broadway song but then I think about the audience and I think they'll eat up a return of the king (not Aragorn). Which reminds me of something completely unrelated the quote from Clerks 2 - " All right, look, there's only one 'Return,' okay, and it ain't 'of the King,' it's 'of the Jedi.'." Now keeping with the random free flow set up of this blog that reminds me of something else I discussed with a friend recently. When I was a kid I loved Star Wars and just sort of liked Star Trek, as I got older Star Wars (while still great) lost some of it's magic and Star Trek gained ground. And while I'm on Star Trek I had never watched more than one or two episodes of the original show while I became a big fan of TNG but thanks to NetFlix I'm now hooked on the first Star Trek. I think the difference is that Star Wars is more sweeping space opera/action movie were as Star Trek is more character driven and issue oriented. That's the tv shows not the movies. I should go back some time and watch the movies and see how they stack up (if memory serves, Star Wars would whoop up in that sort of apple to apples comparison).  Ben and Sam (6 and 3 respectfully, not that their usually respectful mind you) are playing rock band with the Rock Band drums and guitar but not with the video game, just with their imaginations, brilliant. Ben's playing drums and making up words while Sam is playing guitar singing, "Rock and roll, rock and roll." Alrighty I think it's time for the baby to eat, he's sitting on my lap gnawing on my finger and he's starting to get fussy.

ps
Niel Gaiman announced his next novel (not kids book or graphic novel) is coming out next summer. The good lord willing and the creek don't rise I know what I'll be reading next year.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

That's the title of an old Kris Kristofferson/Johnny Cash song about being alone and stoned on a Sunday morning. I'm neither alone nor stoned but the title kinda fit, perhaps it's more of a Sunday Morning Getting Me Down. Here's the crux of it, or rub if your feeling Shakespearean, I don't want to go to the church we've been going to for several years now anymore but I'm alone in my feelings. I'd like to go to the Episcopal church but my family doesn't want to go there. We've talked of going Methodist (we go to a very conservative southern baptist church now) but Araine is afraid we'll all start going there and then I'll be dissatisfied and want to move on again. Not an ungrounded fear. So a few weeks back I went to one church while Rainey and the boys went to the other, that was not a pleasant feeling. Neither one of us liked it, although I did enjoy the service at the Episcopal church. So each week I'm facing the same dilemma do I go where I want alone (my daughter may would go with me) or do I go where I don't like to be with my family. This week we all just stayed home, which is fine by me for the most part but I grew up going to church and it feels strange not to be going somewhere on at least a semi-regular schedule.

Whatever...

I wrote a pretty lengthy blog sharing my two cents on the whole fast food against gays fight going on and then deleted it with aplomb. Because I realized what really got on my nerves the last week or so wasn't the issues being discussed but that everyone seemed to be posting about it, over and over again. It was enough to make me regret having a facebook page. So I've discussed my views with my best friends and those of you who really know me can prob. guess them anyway.  This whole thing reminded me of one of the funny quotes I'd seen recently that read- I use to want to be able to read peoples minds, then I got a facebook page and I got over it.

Blowing things up (metaphorically of course).

I recently finished reading Still Life With Woodpecker by Tom Robbins an absurdest classic (or to-be-classic as the case may be). The description on the book jacket calls it- "A sort of a love story that takes place inside a pack of Camel cigarettes. It reveals the purpose of the moon, explains the difference between criminals and outlaws, examines the conflict between social activism and romantic individualism, and paints a portrait of contemporary society that includes powerful Arabs, exiled royalty, and pregnant cheerleaders. It also deals with the problem of redheads", and that about sums it up. It's like poetry, I mean it doesn't rhyme or anything but it has a fascinating flow to it, perhaps it's on a lunar cycle. The Woodpecker is the chosen name of a redheaded outlaw bomber who makes blowing things up seem not only reasonable but downright necessary. He and a deposed redheaded princess fall madly into something like love and are determined to find a way to make it stay. The part about the difference between activism and individualism I found particularly interesting, all great causes (and I would add religions and philosophies as well) are started by individuals, people with ideas and gumption but as they become causes and institutions they become choked with average, unimaginative people who are jumping on to someone else's band wagon. Well that's not exactly the way the Woodpecker put it but that's what I walked away with. Now the blowing shit up (metaphorically speaking) is the main thing I brought from my trip through Mr. Robbins mind, they're lots of things in my life I let build up or that I build up into 'important' things that need to be blown away like so much brick and mortar. Before you rush out and buy this fantastically bizarre book let me caution that there is a good deal of adult language, sexual situations, drug use and typewriter abuse. Otherwise happy reading.

Tom Jones or as I called it The Almost Never Ending Story

I could hear the Hallelujah chorus being sung in my subconscious as I finally, after months of reading, finished Henry Fielding's The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. Now to be fair part of the reason it took so long to finish was because I twice had to stop reading in order to memorize lines for plays. So I took the opportunity of having a two week break from theater to finish this very long and at times infuriatingly side tracking novel. The core story is pretty good and is somewhat of a morality tale (SparkNotes says it's about virtue in action rather than as thought) with twists and turns and a not perfect but noble minded protagonist. The end of the story is perhaps a bit too much tied up in a nice little bow but I suppose a somewhat comedic moral story should be. The very aggravating part of this book is the constant interruption of the main story. The novel is broken down into 18 books with each book consisting of about 8 to 10 chapters or so and the first chapter of each book is the author waxing philosophical about writing and critics and whatever else, it's like he used this space in each book as a sort of 18th century blog. The novel also contains quite a few 'rabbit trails' leading off in all different directions many of which do not play into or at least very little into the main story. The writing is good, it flows well, so while it was aggravating slogging through much of the book, it wasn't a chore. Several times I thought about quitting this book, my wife encouraged me to on several occasions as I complained so much about it, but I wanted to see what happened to Tom, Sophia and the gang. So, would I recommend this book? Not really, not unless you just feel the need to read books people say are classics. Which I guess I kinda do, this was the first novel in a collection called The Complete Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction; 200 Greatest Novels, Short Stories and Poems Ever Written, edited by Charles Eliot and Christopher Hong that I bought for my kindle. I'm afraid Tom Jones has made me somewhat tepid about the merits of the rest of this collection.

A Great Conversation

Until tonight I really had only met one person I considered to be a master at the art of carrying on a conversation (you can find her blog here )she could talk to anyone and make them feel engaged and smarter for having had the conversation. Tonight I met another conversationalist, albeit with a completely different style. I had the honor of talking to a father of a friend of mine tonight (I'm not naming names simply because I don't know how they would feel about me doing so), this was the first time we'd ever met and after 15 or 20 minutes I knew more about this man than about people I've known 15 or 20 years. Why? Because he didn't bullshit or beat around the bush, he said what he thought and you didn't wonder if that was how he really felt or not. You knew everything he said was said with a heart felt conviction of it's veracity. We talked about the play and ended up discussing our families and opening up about things we're going through/had been through and he gave me some really good advice, advice I hope I can take to heart. Someone with that strong a sense of self amazes me, I've always been more of a people pleaser, wishy-washy, afraid to say what's really on my mind. The older I get though the more I feel as though I'm shaking some of that off and becoming more secure in myself. My friend came over with a look on her face that said, "I'm sorry my dad's bothering you, let me rescue you." But there was no need for a rescue, I truly enjoyed the conversation. As a caveat for another friend, who happens to be the son-in-law of the gentleman, I imagine it's no picnic being on the bad side of such an intense personality.

A litte randomness from the rambling one. (What? I thought it sounded alright.)

Hang on, let me go move the cookies to the cooling rack right quick. Okay, I'm back. Did you miss me? No, of course not your not reading this in real time. Well in your real time but not as I'm... you get the idea. First off I realize I've been a bit remiss in sharing the wonderful and funny anecdotes and quotes of my band of bandar-logs (my children, for the uninitiated). So here's one to get us back on track. The other day Rainey and I were watching Top Shot, it's a reality competition for marksmen, and Sam comes walking into the living room quickly followed by an unpleasant odoriferousness and I ask him, "Did you poop?" Now he isn't looking at me but at the t.v. and he says, "I pu blue team." So, not quite understanding and a little perplexed I ask, "You pooped the blue team?" Well Rainey and I got quite a laugh out of it before realizing he was pulling for the blue team on Top Shot.
That still makes me smile. Well on to other things we're right smack in the middle of rehearsals for Rabbit Hole, which I believe is going to be one hell of a performance. Excuse me, one heck of a performance. Okay that's a little nod to our very talented director making the difficult call to cut some of the adult language from the play. It's easy to cut cursing that's just there for cursing sake but harder when it helps to identify a character. But some of the most offensive language was very early into the very first scene and he didn't want people to walk out before getting to know the characters. I know it was a hard call for him but considering who our core audience is I think it's probably the right call.
And finally (I think) I've been both a plumber and a mechanic in the past week and I am neither a plumber nor a mechanic. But when your broke you got to figure out how to do things for yourself. It's great to have people to ask and to have yahoo or goggle to look things up on but it can also be a bit confusing as you can get lots of different answers.
Alright I suppose that's it for now and seeing as how I'm a fan of non-sequiturs I'll leave you with a favorite quote from a once favorite movie of mine. "Lay of the boots Harley."

Aggravation!

I have always had a deep seated hate for the board game Aggravation because it's just so dang... well, aggravating. Yesterday evening I felt as though I had been playing the game all week. By nine last night I was pretty worn out and tired, it had been a long day filled with getting up before the sun and working my butt off and fighting kids and cat hair, lot's of f-ing cat hair and I'm afraid I was wearing my feelings a bit on my sleeve. It wasn't all bad yesterday, but I think it was a week worth of 'stuff' built up on a tired, caffeine hyped old man. I started out listing some of the 'woes', and I use the term very lightly, hence the quotations, that plagued us this week but it felt too much like whining, so I deleted them. Let's just say it's been a somewhat trying week both at work and home.
I usually try to keep this blog reader friendly and not go into religious/political issues too much, just glossing over them on occasion but one of the things that bugged me this week were two billboards a group has put up in Shebly, one leaving town and one coming in to town. The billboards read 'Vote for Marriage on May 8th' and it really just pissed me off when I saw them. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fly my liberal flag for a minute and say that this marriage amendment change seems to me to be just slight of a hate crime. You've got two well intentioned sides arguing over who can and can't claim the idea of marriage and one side says, 'You know what? We're going to change the state amendment so some judge can't just change the law.' I understand that homosexuality is something strange for most of us, perhaps hard to understand but I don't understand why so many people hate homosexuals. The idea that gay marriage undermines hetro-marriage seems incomprehensible to me. It's like when the military said gays can't serve openly because they could be black mailed for being gay. Do what? You can paint this issue with all the colors of the rainbow (pun intended) but I think it boils down to a deep seated bigotry toward homosexuals. I wish someone would put a billboard right next to these that says, 'Don't vote for hate on May 8th'. All right I'm climbing off the soap box and putting my liberal flag back on the shelf.
I hate to end a blog without a silver lining so let me say that despite the aggravation of the last week I've also had some really good times too. I've got my lines for Rabbit Hole learned (for the most part), I got to see a play at the newly renovated and gorgeous Joy theater in KM, I watched the new Footloose (it was s'alright) with my wife and speaking of said wife I got to spend a lot more time with her this week than I would have had I had my car and I feel like we got a little closer, which is always a wonderful silver lining.

No buisness like show buisness.

For weeks before Plaid auditions I kept saying I can't sing harmonies, I'm not going to audition. The day before Plaid auditions I said I can't sing harmonies, but it might be neat to try. Then of course the day of auditions I had my happy little arse singing in the basement of the arts council. When I first read some of Rabbit Hole last year I said that's too intense of a role, I don't know if I'd want to do that. A few weeks ago I said that's a really intense role I think it'd be neat to do, but I've done two shows already this season so I probably wont audition. Well last night I had my happy little arse auditioning in the basement of the arts council. It's a cool role in an award wining drama, that has many laughs and many tears and a we'll make it, we'll persevere kind of ending. Time will tell whether I make it into three shows in a row or not. Don't worry I wont be going through this with Fools, GSCT's last show for this season, I've been saying for months that I want to audition for Fools. Fools was the first show I ever did with GSCT a few millennium ago, so it'd be cool to revisit the start of all this. So unless I switch it up and bail on Fools then the wishy-washy streak will come to an end.

Confidence?

A recent quote of mine from a conversation with some supportive fiends - "You know me and confidence, we're not on the best of terms." You would think someone who has no problem getting on stage and being the dancing monkey (hopefully an entertaining and talented one) would not be lacking in confidence, you'd be wrong. You see acting and performing have always come naturally to me, I use to put on shows for pretend audiences in my backyard as a kid. But when it comes to doing something new or different I get all gummy beared inside. It's not so much a feeling of fear as a feeling of certitude of failure, I know it's not rational I've succeeded in as many things as I've failed, possibly more. But it's there. Every time I order something for others at a restaurant I know I'm going to screw it up, every time I think of playing the guitar I know I'll quit before I learn, every time I think I can do, or be better I end up knowing that I can't. Sometimes I get a little brave, a little the little engine that could and I try things- some work out (the show Forever Plaid), some don't (team leader position at work). The crazy thing is I know it's not about ability or talent it's all about sustaining the courage to see an undertaking all the way through and not quitting when it gets tough. This really came to a head yesterday as I heard (through the grapevine) of a job opening that my degree might actually be useful for and help me get and as I looked at the job and it's requirements I kept thinking I can't do that, I need to just keep doing what I've been doing, I'm good at what I do now, I shouldn't try to advance to do 'better' and it was very frustrating. I'm afraid I don't have any happy ending, silver lining for this blog, no funny epitaph to close with. Sometimes risks pay off, I'm going to get ready for a show I said I couldn't do (very tight harmonies I didn't think I could get)that has gone smashingly well and sometimes they don't, I just need to find the confidence to try.

New blog for the new year.

I'd be remiss if I didn't start this off by mentioning the new little bundle of joy in my life, Maxwell Grant Spurling, born Dec. 29th and filling my world ever since. Max was a surprise, complete surprise and as I looked at him earlier I remarked to Rainey how beautiful he was and how he filled me with such love and she summed it up superbly we she said, "He's every thing you never knew you wanted." His birth experience wasn't without a couple of hitches though, first he has a very pronounced birthmark on his chest,back, and left arm that the doctor is going to send us to a pediatric dermatologist to have checked out. And secondly our family got hit with a terrible stomach bug (which involved throwing away a mattress) both during and after his stay in the hospital. It's been three days now since any ones been sick, so I hope and pray we're out of the woods. The worst of this for me was I got sick the night Max was born and wasn't able to stay in the hospital with him and Rainey which led to a number of tears on both our parts. But we're here now and so far so good and that's all we can ask for sometimes.

In keeping with the random name of my blog I liked to discuss (briefly) my new favorite reality show, the GOP primary race. With it's ups and downs and name calling and rigmarole and now a vote that has sent one or more people home it's as exciting as Survivor ever was. Of course this show has much deeper implications for our country and unfortunately shows the pitfalls of the party system in America. I've always been sort of middle of the road in politics, on some issues I'm liberal on others I'm conservative and some issues or just to complicated to fall into a nice little category. If you'd have asked me a few months ago who I'd vote for come Nov. I would have easily said Pres. Obama, a month ago I would have said whoever the republican nominee turns out to be. Now? Well, now I'm not so sure. What led me away from Pres. Obama was the debt crises in Europe and our own unbelievable debt here (trillions of dollars? I can't even comprehend how much that is). I don't blame the Pres. for the debt it's been climbing for a long time under both repubs and dems but something has got to be done about it and it's not going to be pretty. I hate though that the first things they always want to cut are the programs that help the needy, can't we start somewhere else? Like with congress's pay and benefits and the pork barrel spending on needles things. What I would like is for the Pres. to say I'm going to remain socially liberal but I'm going to drastically cut spending and shrink the federal gov., he'd win hands down. Or I'd like to see a repub. say I'm going to be fiscally conservative but I'm going to be liberal on some issues. See, I'm very middle of the road and I don't think I'm alone. But the way party politics are candidates have to line up all on the left or all on the right or they don't have a shot. Look at my fav. of the repub. hopefuls, John Huntsman, because he isn't far right he didn't even campaign in Iwoa and has been largely out of the conversation the last week or so, which will change now that they're all moving on to New Hampshire. I don't think Huntsman has a chance but I do think he's about the most qualified to lead our country right now, when China and other developing countries our are biggest threat. But unfortunately it seems to be a money racket and Romney has the money to get the nomination. Well, not as briefly as I'd meant to be but there it is for better and worse. It will be interesting to see how it all plays out and I can only hope and pray that whoever wins the election will lead the country to prosperity.

All right last topic, I promise, Forever Plaid opens the end of this month and boy do we have some work cut out for us in the days leading up to opening night. I feel like I'm cramming for finals. There's still a couple of songs I'm having a hard time remembering. Why do you have to sing the same words different ways each time? And which doo, dah, do goes where? Which ooo or ohh goes here? Or was that suppose to be an ahh? The harmonies have to be tight on this show and the choreography has got to be learned quick. So bring on the late night rehearsals, the singing these songs until we're sick of them but know them backward and forward. And if, no, when we learn it all bring on the crowds.