Spring Flu Season

So false alarm. turns out Doug just had his phone off. He called me back very chipper and feeling pretty much the same as he has been and said, "I found out I had left my phone off for the last few days. I was carrying it around with me, in my coat pocket, etc., but it wasn't on, so I have all these messages I'm returning now."

And I said, "phew."

Of course, soon after that both Terri and I came down with what my mother euphemistically calls "the creeping crud" and we've both been down for the count. Today is day 5. Day FIVE! of the flu.

On a good note I wrote a short story somewhere in those 5 days.

Hey, we take the good with the bad.

Now if I could only get the cats to stop asking to go out and in and out and in...

Ah, spring flu season!

Strange Relations

OK - I have to admit to being worried, and I know those who know me well will understand, but I still feel strange. My ex-husband's got Lymphoma. He's on treatment three - or is it four? and he's finally had to shave his head as he's been threatening and says he aches in his bones all the time. He's been putting on a brave front on his blog, but I see where he hasn't posted this week since his last Chemo treatment and so I called him on my lunch break. No answer.

I know he's probably at home feeling miserable and with the three dogs staring at him and wishing he'd pet them. I know he fell down and can't get up and doesn't have one of those little necklace thingys. I know he fell down a well and Lassy needs to go rescue him, I know I feel guilty because I'm his ex-wife and he should have someone with him right now and he's single and bored with his daily regiment and can't have folks over much due to his low immune system and...... I know. That's just dumb. We're divorced after all right?

But those of you who don't know us, won't realize that my partner Terri and I call Doug "Our Ex-Husband," and he and I paid like $76 bucks in some legal office with one legal guy and said, "divorce is done, you take the cat, I'll take that cooking pan, Phew! Let's go to lunch!" and he came to My and Terri's wedding and gifted us with a beautiful krokinole board he made (We'll need another post to explain krokinole, which I'm sure I'm mis-spelling) and he's one of my favorite people in the world and he deserves to have a partner with him at his side right now, hanging in there with him and... I know... I'm being dumb.

So, I'll just wait to hear from him when he's feeling better, 'cause I'm sure if I were home feeling crappy I wouldn't answer my phone either.

It's funny because most people who have only met me since I've lived in Montpelier have to hear that whole story with a puzzled look and they go "Oh! You were married before I didn't know that!" and it always makes me feel strange that folks don't GET that a woman who lives with and is in a committed relationship with a woman might actually have not been attacked, run over, molested, or raped by a zillion men to get there and/or just hate them out of some genetic requirement.

The fact is, I have been in love many times in my life. Never has the requirement been that the person had to be one gender or the other. So yes, Doug and I found eventually that though we cared about each other we just were miserable living together. We found after a short period of adjustment we could be friends, and it turned out to be the basis for why we weren't breaking up. I mean, we felt like "If I still like you I can't get a divorce 'cause we'll be required to hate each other..." Maybe that's the more idiotic idea, and we didn't make that one up.

I remember actually going to the therapist after my divorce - she was our couples therapist while we tried to work things out - and saying - "Man am I NORMAL? I'm happy. I'm not trying to break into my ex husband's house and steal the cat or the car or some conch shell we picked up on our honey moon and I'm not trailing him with a private eye or something..." and she said "Yeah. You're normal. Those other things people do are the abnormal behavior. That'll be $50." Hey, and I gladly paid that. Why not?

Relations are strange... But hey, Some day before I die I'll start to accept that actually, that fact is also the norm.

Vacation finally...

Well, I've finally made it to a week of vacation in March. Very nice. Where am I going did you say? My favorite vacation plans... nowhere...!

So now I get to settle in and rest & relax. One of the biggest things I've been looking forward to on this vacation is a chance to do some writing. I've done so little over the last month or two.

Just a quick report on how the panel went last Saturday. It was marvelous! A lot of work, but it was really worth it to be able to be in a room full of a dozen or more playwrights. To quote Sarah Brock, (who wrote an amazing play about 5 medieval women trying to keep their castle after the Lord dies called "Twist in the Rising") "It's good to be in a room full of people who don't think I'm crazy when I say I hear voices in my head."

The picture above is a shot of some of us speaking on the panel (From the left, Jeanne Beckwith, Sarah Brock, Dana Yeaton, Monica Callan, and James Lantz) - taken by a lovely friend of mine who agreed last minute to take the photos while I stood up and jibber jabbered - Thanks Mary Beth!!!

So far this past few days leading up to vacation I've created some lovely sheets on the panel which I hope to post at the vermontplaywrightscircle.org/ site soon - and I've started a short story which is actually a full blown fantasy based on some words from an exercise that the folks in my fiction writing group do once or twice a year. The exercise is called "Short Story in a Week." and is just that. A list of words is generated and everyone has to write a story using those words in the tense they are giving in.

Not sure what I'll call this yet as the ending's not written yet, but here's a sampling of the opening. (typos & all as you're not supposed to edit during this exercise...)

First, the words given: bray, pendulum, elixir, zealot, apse

Now the opening of the story:

"Start here…" the label on the map said. A drunken arrow lead from the word 'here' across the parchment and down the right side of the map to an almost indecipherable phrase – which had clearly been written by the same hand that drew the arrow – "Pendulum Fault." Alara smiled and sat down at her rickety desk to examine the map more closely. The fire crackled in the overlarge fireplace.

There was nothing she liked better then a mystery, and this map was proving to be just that. Shadows danced on the wall in the dim winter afternoon. Her sister huddled by the warmth of the fire in her gray traveling robes, which she hadn't even taken the time to change out of upon her return home. The drunken line ran from the Gerin Mountains far in the north down through the kingdom of Olikuma and finally to the sea. Through the thin cut window of the castle, a weak afternoon light tried to reach the table, to no avail. Alara moved the lamp closer to the map. Her sister had brought the map back from the Gerin Mountain Monastery where she had spent the past three turnings of the years as an initiate. She had procured the map from the Matron of Initiates, what was her name? Matra Inisthulen. That was it. How long had it sat on some dusty shelf waiting to be handed over to Alara's family?

"And this Matra was clear you were to keep the map a secret from Father and Bonin?" Alara looked up at her sister, who seemed to have blended into the gray rock of the fireplace where she huddled on a low stool.

"The Matra said, 'we have awaited you many generations, Child,' as she handed this to me. The monks were all out in the courtyard with Brother and Father. It seemed to me this map was not meant for the eyes of the men in our family." Ri rubbed her hands together to warm them then shrugged at Alara, "I got a sense of it, anyway, when she slammed the drawer shut as the door to her chambers opened. So I shoved it quickly into my robes and left to join Father and Bonin in the courtyard."



"'Start here…,' seems a bit puerile, don't you think?" Alara ran a gloved hand over the map. She had been out Falconing before the royal entourage arrived. The leather glove was thick. She couldn't feel a thing through it. She took it off and repeated the gesture. "Ahha…" She laughed. "Look," She said. She lifted the map and turned toward the shifting firelight. "Here at the center, embedded in the map, look here."



"What? What could possibly be fit inside of a map? It is only parchment isn't it, I – Oh…" Ri had come over to Alara and placed her hand on the map at center. Alara nodded.



"You feel it? See?" Alara stepped forward a bit so that the map came away from Ri's hand. In the firelight, in the faintest of shadows, the firelight illuminated a small wisp of an object. It could have been a hair or two caught and dried in the ink, or the spine of a feather if one did not know what to look for, but both Ri and Alara had seen such objects before.



"Dragon's breath!" Ri whispered.



***OK - That's all you get so far***

Angels and Mothers...

OK - So I'm thinking more and more about my piece "Angel in the Fire" as of late. Below is an excerpt of one scene. Emily is the grandmother, Halle (short for Hallelujah) is the mother. Claire is the daughter. Three generations, two different stories. They are woven together as our memories of life, reactions to moments, and relationships with our mothers and grandmothers most always are. Do they work, evoke something when you read them...?

CLAIRE
The moon blocks out the sun today.
For a brief moment, night at noon.
I am eight.
The cement steps
on our stoop have
a hole beneath them.
Bees dip and fly
silently between my legs,
waiting for me to move.

HALLE
We steered clear of that field
mostly.
The bull hunched like a tank,
afternoons.
The sun was down before I knew it,
the rock getting cold
beneath me.

EMILY
When your sister came home
alone, I wanted time
to deal with her.
First, we got that bull
back in his pen,
then I turned to her,
a good switch from the elm
in my hand.

CLAIRE
You came and picked me up in the dark
And we watched the moon do-si-do with the sun.

HALLE and EMILY
And when I came and picked you up

HALLE
from the stoop,
visions of old apocalyptic stories
fresh on my mind,

ALL THREE TOGETHER
The sound of the bull
In the field across the way
Startled me

HALLE and EMILY//CLAIRE
And I took you inside. //And you took me inside.

Twenty Days After...

Yes, it sounds like a scarey film! But it's just how long it's been between posts. It's another snowy day today. Spring seems infinitely far away, and this weekend is the VATTA (That's the Vermont Assocation of Theater and Theater Artists to you!) Town Meeting on "Staging Original Works in Vermont." I'll be co-facilitating with Dana Yeaton. There'll be so many cool folks there that you should come too!

WHAT:Theatre Town Meeting

WHEN:Saturday, March 1st from 4:30 – 6:00 pm

WHERE:McCarthy Arts Center, Saint Michael's College, Colchester,Vermont

WHO:The Vermont Association of Theaters and Theater Artists, (VATTA) in conjunction with the Vermont Playwrights Circle

PRICE:$7 Donations at the door*

*Artists participating in VATTA's Statewide Auditions and Networking Event admitted for free.

DETAILS:
Despite tighter financial times, arts organizations in Vermont remain committed to staging original works written by local authors and – more and more – artists are taking production into their own hands. Their can-do attitude, spit and vinegar, and moxie have spawned an innumerable number of original artistic projects over the past few years. What does it take to mount an original production? How much risk does an individual artist or arts organizations take in mounting a piece by an unknown artist rather than staging a classic/known piece? How rewarding is it to see a piece rise to its feet for the first time? Join us for a brief presentation of two short original works by local artists (TBA) followed by a community discussion on the risks and rewards of staging original theater works in Vermont.

The discussion will be co-facilitated by local writers Dana Yeaton of Middlebury College and Kim Ward of The Vermont Playwrights Circle. Speakers will include the following local authors: Jeanne Beckwith, Sarah Dawson Brock, David Budbill, Maura Campbell, Monica Callan, Marisa Krauss, James Lantz, Kim Ward, and Dana Yeaton.

Along with playwrights, several local organizations committed to staging original works in Vermont will be present, including Lost Nation Theater, Moxie Productions, The Parish Players, The Valley Players, The Vermont Playwrights Circle.

For more information, or to RSVP for the Theater Town Meeting
(not required) call: 802-229-0112 or Email VTPCirc@yahoo.com

For information on The 20th Annual Statewide Auditions and Networking Event from 9:30am-3:30pm, please contact Veronica Lopez, VATTA Coordinator at 802-862-2287 or email catalyst@gmavt.net

Interminable winter...

I woke up the other day to this view. I thought "Gee, if I only had a camera," then realized I still had my mother's digital which she lent to us over the holidays so, Voila!

I love the snow. So much prettier then rain or dry, brown grass.

Of course, I walk to work, so you're probably all thinking "of course you love it!" but Terri and I DID spend about two hours today digging out because we hadn't moved the car in several days! Plus, we had to buy a new shovel as we broke the old one.

This is what winter in Vermont SHOULD be. Even though I could really spend some time on a sunny island right now to store up on some vitamin D.

Let me know what fun things you've been up to in the snow, folks!

I've been playing leap frog over deep puddles on main street, walking IN the street rather then on the tiny path that used to be called a side walk, and thinking it's time I got my sled out and went up to Hubbard Park, where all the good sledding action is in town: http://www.montpelier-vt.org/parks/hubbard.cfm

We went to the gym twice this week, only to find hardly anyone there. We're sure it's because people are using their shovels for 'curls' and 'biceps' and getting all the cardio they need on their walks to work and during driveway shoveling.

Litter Fu... and other Chaotic Elements of the Universe

Let's talk about Litter Fu, shall we? Let's ask the big questions here, like:

1. Why on Earth does the cat think litter is not just for going to the bathroom in, but for spritzing, for spewing about the appartment, for baths, walks around your head and for that little something that says "Hey, mom, I missed you today!"?
2. If I were to go to the end of the universe, would I be able to escape the litter that seems to stick to my feet in the middle of the night and make me cry out in pain, curse the very bones of my cat, and want to put the whole thing on the porch, despite the fact that it is -13 degrees outside?
3. In reality, IS litter made of Kryptonite for humans?

But seriously - We love our animals. If I had to go inside a box with litter, I too might go in and kick the heck out of litter while muttering curses under my tunafish breath as well. Gabby, who is in the picture with my profile, came to us out of the chaos of teenage desire for a pet. We told our nephew in no uncertain terms would we pay for the fixing, shots etc. He had to do that. We also posed the dilemma to him when he got her.

"If you can't keep up with her maintanance, and spend bonding time with her, are you prepared to let her go?" And then when he discovered that 17 is the year we all spend about 2% of our time with our family and 98% at school or out roaming the streets, he came to us and very responsibly said

"Yeah, I'm not ready for a cat, guys, though I love Gabby."

By then Gabby was about 3 months, fixed, given shots, etc. and she'd spent her 8 weeks with us curling up on Terri's lap and tucking herself under Terr's chin for afternoon naps. Yeah - we were'nt ready for the bonding that happend! She'll be with us 'til death do us part now.

And the last bit of chaos in all of this? I got sick of my headaches a few years back and went to get tested for allergies. I have two left over from childhood. Guess which two?

1. Dust
2. Cats

The allergist said, "so what are you going to do about your cats?"

And I said "Nuttin." They're like kids to us. So I'll suffer until either they die off or kill me! (Yes, Sammy our other cat, who is not present in pictures here yet, sleeps smack over my head, or under the covers next to me, usually.)

So the formula goes... dust... litter... litter dust... Kryptonite... yeah... I think they're definitely related!