Some of you will know that I got a subscription this year to the 5th Ave theatre. (RI folks, think PPAC). Generally thinking I'm more of a late-night, fringe, bring yer beer into the black box, wacky trashy pay-what-you-can kind of theater goer, BUT my pal Paula and I both like musicals. (Only I'm generally too embarrassed to tell other people that because I'm tuff.)
We got the subscription with another friend because they were showing "Company" (Sondheim show about sex and marriage, also the theme music for my early childhood. yeah.) and "White Christmas" (I cried, and loved the fake snow, and sang along at the end louder than anyone else in the nosebleeds because in the dark, noone can see you're tuff.) and "West Side Story" (c'mon!)
We also got "Buddy; The Buddy Holly Story" and, fatefully, "Edward Scissorhands". (We actually signed up for something else even more unlikely, but "Buddy..." replaced what the original season included. Imagine, like "Woody; The Woody Allen Story" or something.)
Last night was Edward Scissorhands. It was something else. I'll jump to the end of the night, which took place in the corporate video establishment (which I always avoid) because it was too late for my local joint and I couldn't wait.
Kendra: Hi. I can't find Edward Scissorhands, will you help me?
Short Dorky Blonde Video Guy: Did you look in drama?
Kendra: Yeah. I found Eddie and The Cruisers.
SDBVG: Here it is. (In comedy)
K: fifty fifty shot I guess.
at the counter:
SDBVG: Hey, did you know that there's, like, a ballet version of that right now?
K: Yep. That's why I'm here. I just saw it.
SDBVG: I heard it was great. What did you think?
K: I'm not sure. I was expecting a musical, and brought my blind friend, so I spent the whole time whispering narration, so I couldn't really get into it. Maybe it was really good.
SDBVG: Oh. (BLIND. GOSH. YUCK. WHAT DO I SAY?) My friends said it was really good.
K: The set was cool.
SDBVG: (THANK GOD!) Yeah. They said the the sets were amazing. They saw the London cast, which is pretty much the same thing.
That's right friends. I narrated the ballet version of Edward Scissorhands in my quietest indoor voice from the nosebleeds.
"Now that slutty lady brings the salesman into her house... whoops, he's out again. I think he might be golfing with her husband now."
"The cheerleader loves Edward... the other teenagers are doing a peer pressure dance now. Oh. She leaves him".
There was a dream sequence (I'm not big on ballet that isn't the nutcracker... is that like some ballet trope of some kind?) where Edward has hands and all the other folks are topiaries. It was probably awesome, but it turns out that all of my cynicism lives in my left brain right next to my words, but my right brain has all my Dream-dancing-appretiation.
Fucked up. A joke, even. Sheesh.
If "West Side Story" is, like, a One-Womyn performance piece, I'm staying home.
Oh. Ps. Not one smoke in four months. Word.
Friday, May 4, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Sad News And/But I love Ballard
The sad news is this: my beautiful and loveable young cat Trinity was hit by a car and killed last week. Zak dug a big ass hole, and we put in a beautiful and edible garden (although Z says that because her body is decomposing down there we shouldn't eat them... anyone want to weigh in on this?) We spent the day crying and digging (I did almost no digging, for the record). Some dear friends (the ones who really cared about Trinity AND with whom we felt comfortable crying) came over and helped us put her in the ground. The garden is really lovely, and since trinity was THE most social and friendly cat in the universe, it has torches and benches so that we could all sit there together and drink beer and eat pizza after/while we cried our eyes out.
Also, I got some very sweet cards/letters from the Big Kids since I took the day off work. Some girls were obviously working together because they each drew a round little black cat with wings and a halo. (They obviously never met my tricky, shameless, cat, but that's ok.)
In other news, today was so lovely that I'd like to tell you how it went.
I woke up late, got a lot of coffee (a party last night left me a little delicate) and then went downtown to see Lawrence of Arabia in dazzling 70mm at the Cinerama which was tremendous, and lovely and a whole different movie because of all the immensity and vastness that is not possible on a television.
Next I had Corn Beef Hash at the Five Point. I took a nap and got up with some daylight left for a bike ride (this is the cool part). As I cruised around Ballard, I saw so many happy people. There were folks who were waiting in line at the Tractor to see some Gaelic band, and folks who were eating ice cream cones outside of Ben and Jerry's (The make Stephen-Colbert flavored icecream now!) I felt really contented and hopeful just then, all the way to my toe clips, when I heard a *really* loud and funky bassline. There was a teenage jam band (a very good one, actually) playing on the sidewalk, and a whole bunch of local homeless guys were rocking out, having the best time! I sat down behind them and took it all in.
I used to frequent the Chaihouse more, ah, frequently than I do now, because now my heart belongs to Nervous Nellies. The Chai house, however is so tenderly tie-dyed, so openly open-mic, so unabashedly idealistic and wierd that it holds a warm place in my heart. They've got this new woman there, Reverend Betty, who is all about "community". I read some of her missives, and felt pretty cynicallly that her idea of "community" was about folks buying into her big ideas. She had this idea of "Chaistock" where they'd have live music all week to raise money to get a better sound system. I'd read the posters, and rolled my eyes when I saw the pinnacle event, which was "improvisational collaborative mayhem"; my inner adolescent poet shuddered with shame.
There I sat,today, watching these really young, talented kids being treated like rock gods by some homeless guys, and some homeless guys being treated to their first front row seat in a long while I imagine. This dad and his little kid came by and sat with us, and the toddler could NOT be restrained from gently resting his little sticky hand on the snare. More and more folks showed up with coffee and sandwiches, and curry in stryrofoam and, with astonished looks on their faces sat upwind from the rabble nodding their heads to the beat. One dude with a bedroll under his arm, walked up to the chubby, dorky-looking guitarist and got really close, and then closed his eyes and started singing with his mouth wide open... no words just screamy melody that perfectly completed the music. He went along for a minute or so without a single error... this was exactly as advertised "improvisational collaborative mayhem" but REALLY. Dudes were dancing that wierd ass hippie dance, and looking like they were at a Rush concert. Men I walk by every day, who have never smiled at me, never met my eye grinned and nodded with me, let me in, shared this with me. After awhile the guitarist and bassist went in for a pop (I assume, although, really they were funky enough for a beer in my esteem...) and another pair came on up to join the drummer.
The corner/park where they had set up is at a 5 or 6 way intersection with a really long and thorough light, so folks in cars and on motorcycles got a listen too. There was this woman in her 60's perhaps in a blue sedan all alone, stopped at the light about 15 yards away from the band. She peered and squinted so intently at them, that I imagined for a moment that she might be jealous. I imagined her seeing these homeless guys all dancing and bellowing cheers on the sidewalk, these kids just tickled pink to be adored, the rest of us thrilled to be allowed a place in this meeting, and wanting.... something. I'm not sure exactly what it could be, or where she went when the light turned, but she was thinking some thoughts, I could tell that much.
I was too. I was thinking "I love you, Ballard!"
k
Also, I got some very sweet cards/letters from the Big Kids since I took the day off work. Some girls were obviously working together because they each drew a round little black cat with wings and a halo. (They obviously never met my tricky, shameless, cat, but that's ok.)
In other news, today was so lovely that I'd like to tell you how it went.
I woke up late, got a lot of coffee (a party last night left me a little delicate) and then went downtown to see Lawrence of Arabia in dazzling 70mm at the Cinerama which was tremendous, and lovely and a whole different movie because of all the immensity and vastness that is not possible on a television.
Next I had Corn Beef Hash at the Five Point. I took a nap and got up with some daylight left for a bike ride (this is the cool part). As I cruised around Ballard, I saw so many happy people. There were folks who were waiting in line at the Tractor to see some Gaelic band, and folks who were eating ice cream cones outside of Ben and Jerry's (The make Stephen-Colbert flavored icecream now!) I felt really contented and hopeful just then, all the way to my toe clips, when I heard a *really* loud and funky bassline. There was a teenage jam band (a very good one, actually) playing on the sidewalk, and a whole bunch of local homeless guys were rocking out, having the best time! I sat down behind them and took it all in.
I used to frequent the Chaihouse more, ah, frequently than I do now, because now my heart belongs to Nervous Nellies. The Chai house, however is so tenderly tie-dyed, so openly open-mic, so unabashedly idealistic and wierd that it holds a warm place in my heart. They've got this new woman there, Reverend Betty, who is all about "community". I read some of her missives, and felt pretty cynicallly that her idea of "community" was about folks buying into her big ideas. She had this idea of "Chaistock" where they'd have live music all week to raise money to get a better sound system. I'd read the posters, and rolled my eyes when I saw the pinnacle event, which was "improvisational collaborative mayhem"; my inner adolescent poet shuddered with shame.
There I sat,today, watching these really young, talented kids being treated like rock gods by some homeless guys, and some homeless guys being treated to their first front row seat in a long while I imagine. This dad and his little kid came by and sat with us, and the toddler could NOT be restrained from gently resting his little sticky hand on the snare. More and more folks showed up with coffee and sandwiches, and curry in stryrofoam and, with astonished looks on their faces sat upwind from the rabble nodding their heads to the beat. One dude with a bedroll under his arm, walked up to the chubby, dorky-looking guitarist and got really close, and then closed his eyes and started singing with his mouth wide open... no words just screamy melody that perfectly completed the music. He went along for a minute or so without a single error... this was exactly as advertised "improvisational collaborative mayhem" but REALLY. Dudes were dancing that wierd ass hippie dance, and looking like they were at a Rush concert. Men I walk by every day, who have never smiled at me, never met my eye grinned and nodded with me, let me in, shared this with me. After awhile the guitarist and bassist went in for a pop (I assume, although, really they were funky enough for a beer in my esteem...) and another pair came on up to join the drummer.
The corner/park where they had set up is at a 5 or 6 way intersection with a really long and thorough light, so folks in cars and on motorcycles got a listen too. There was this woman in her 60's perhaps in a blue sedan all alone, stopped at the light about 15 yards away from the band. She peered and squinted so intently at them, that I imagined for a moment that she might be jealous. I imagined her seeing these homeless guys all dancing and bellowing cheers on the sidewalk, these kids just tickled pink to be adored, the rest of us thrilled to be allowed a place in this meeting, and wanting.... something. I'm not sure exactly what it could be, or where she went when the light turned, but she was thinking some thoughts, I could tell that much.
I was too. I was thinking "I love you, Ballard!"
k
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Overheard in Ballard
There's a website called Overheard in Pittsburg... http://www.overheardinpittsburgh.com/
It's pretty funny. I know of it, because my friend Chris occasionally reports shit his husband Jeff said, because homeboy is too funny to keep from the masses.
Anyway, I've been campaigning my fella, IT to the stars (TM), to start Overheard in Seattle, already, doggone it. My campaign consists of possible entries, like these two, from my late afternoon commute today.
Guy is waiting for bus. Bus arrives...stops... opens doors. Guy waits a beat and then his eyebrows shoot up in surprise! (Hey, look! A bus!) He boards jovially and sits down. We head over the Ballard bridge.
"Hey. Up there, are you gonna go left, or keep going straight?"
(Quiet Bus driver voice.) "Going straight"
"What?"
"Going straight."
"What?"
"Going Straight."
"Oh. Good. That'll give me awhile, cause I forgot where I'm goin'"
Guy laughs so hard, I can smell the Nightrain from two rows BEHIND him.
wait... for... it...
"Oh! That's right. The strip club!"
LATER (walking down the street, two fourteen year old girls and a balding guy)
girl 1: didn't you want to be a marine biologist?
Girl 2: Yeah, but they can go out if they want. They can have a tan.
Girl 1: Daddy, there's this surfer girl who's like 13, and she got her arm bit off. Now she's got her own lotion company.
That's what I got for you folks...
It's pretty funny. I know of it, because my friend Chris occasionally reports shit his husband Jeff said, because homeboy is too funny to keep from the masses.
Anyway, I've been campaigning my fella, IT to the stars (TM), to start Overheard in Seattle, already, doggone it. My campaign consists of possible entries, like these two, from my late afternoon commute today.
Guy is waiting for bus. Bus arrives...stops... opens doors. Guy waits a beat and then his eyebrows shoot up in surprise! (Hey, look! A bus!) He boards jovially and sits down. We head over the Ballard bridge.
"Hey. Up there, are you gonna go left, or keep going straight?"
(Quiet Bus driver voice.) "Going straight"
"What?"
"Going straight."
"What?"
"Going Straight."
"Oh. Good. That'll give me awhile, cause I forgot where I'm goin'"
Guy laughs so hard, I can smell the Nightrain from two rows BEHIND him.
wait... for... it...
"Oh! That's right. The strip club!"
LATER (walking down the street, two fourteen year old girls and a balding guy)
girl 1: didn't you want to be a marine biologist?
Girl 2: Yeah, but they can go out if they want. They can have a tan.
Girl 1: Daddy, there's this surfer girl who's like 13, and she got her arm bit off. Now she's got her own lotion company.
That's what I got for you folks...
Monday, February 19, 2007
Don't Smoke, Don't Knit, What can you do?
Ugh.
Due to a wrist injury acquired weeks ago from closing the lid on a jar, and then exacerbated by extended periods of knitting while home sick with a cold, I cannot knit. I spent the weeked with my friend the physical therapist/massage therapist who rubbed it and pinched it and showed me how to do the same things for myself, but from the feeling of it, there will be NO knitting for days at least. This sucks because there are a couple of babies wandering into the lives of loved ones in the near future, and I just started making Z some new gloves, AND also I really enjoy knitting.
The good news is that I've been reading a lot. Right now, I'm taking turns between "Going Solo" the second half of Roald Dahl's autobiography and "The Audacity of Hope" by Barrack Obama. So far the cyncial side of me is outraged because Obama makes a lot of sense to me, and no one can really be *that* right about how to lead the country, right? So, what's his real agenda? The pragmatic liberal eats it up, because he sounds so goddam "electable". The radical is also pissed because Obama is about meeting people where they're at, not demonizing others people who don't agree and working toward an end of the polarization that's been happening in our country. The Buddhist in me loves this because OF COURSE all the dualities that appear in our views of politics and government are unreal and unuseful, but the militant feminist in me and her buddies are agog at this and want change and want it now, and don't think that this friendly attitude is going to work. So, the crowd are working it all out and I'll let you know how it goes. Everyone settles down and cuddles together, though, to hear exploits of the worlds' greatest children's author as he bops around Africa and the middle east just before WWII. It's a good balance.
Leaving Wednesday morning for Tucson YAY!
Due to a wrist injury acquired weeks ago from closing the lid on a jar, and then exacerbated by extended periods of knitting while home sick with a cold, I cannot knit. I spent the weeked with my friend the physical therapist/massage therapist who rubbed it and pinched it and showed me how to do the same things for myself, but from the feeling of it, there will be NO knitting for days at least. This sucks because there are a couple of babies wandering into the lives of loved ones in the near future, and I just started making Z some new gloves, AND also I really enjoy knitting.
The good news is that I've been reading a lot. Right now, I'm taking turns between "Going Solo" the second half of Roald Dahl's autobiography and "The Audacity of Hope" by Barrack Obama. So far the cyncial side of me is outraged because Obama makes a lot of sense to me, and no one can really be *that* right about how to lead the country, right? So, what's his real agenda? The pragmatic liberal eats it up, because he sounds so goddam "electable". The radical is also pissed because Obama is about meeting people where they're at, not demonizing others people who don't agree and working toward an end of the polarization that's been happening in our country. The Buddhist in me loves this because OF COURSE all the dualities that appear in our views of politics and government are unreal and unuseful, but the militant feminist in me and her buddies are agog at this and want change and want it now, and don't think that this friendly attitude is going to work. So, the crowd are working it all out and I'll let you know how it goes. Everyone settles down and cuddles together, though, to hear exploits of the worlds' greatest children's author as he bops around Africa and the middle east just before WWII. It's a good balance.
Leaving Wednesday morning for Tucson YAY!
Friday, January 26, 2007
Make some time, friends, this is long
A couple of weeks ago I went with my union to lobby my state legislature over the weekend celebrating the birthday of Dr. King. This was amazing in many ways, so it's been hard to start to write about. Here's what I got:
-I was surrounded by purple which may, it turns out, be my least favorite color. SEIU has chosen purple as its color. In general, I've found that folks who choose to like purple have a different relationship to their favorite color than others. For instance there's a whole store devoted to selling purple things.
Walking around the capitol building and seeing hundreds of purple people representing for childcare workers, mental health workers and nurses helped me get it, though. We were a presence, and that came through loud and clear and in tacky tacky bright shades of purple. It killed me, but I saw its use. Next time any of you people start a union PLEASE, how about black? Maybe black with some dark grey, or silver studs... I mean unity and visibility are great, but come on.... The best part is that folks wear all shades of purple, lavender and plum (I myself was wearing a somber aubergine.) so in our unity we clash terribly with one another, even as we represent.
Wait, I assure you this story gets better. (But it continues to be purple the whole time. Keep that in mind.)
-We were celebrating something huge. SEIU organized the 17,000 "Family Care Workers" in our state. (Note: Family Care Workers are also known as "In-Home Care givers" or folks like my mom who take in neighborhood kids for dough, and as a way to get paid for staying home with their own kids.) These folks care for 40 percent of the kids in our state. They now have a historic contract which made me want to cry more than once. It's a little complicated, but it goes like this: Poor folks need childcare in order to work, and they can't afford to send their kids to places like Hilltop, or places like anywhere in most cases. The state subsidizes care at about $500/month per kid. (My school is like $1000/month per kid. So if we want to do the right thing and offer our amazing services to kids from working class famlies, we need to suck up around $6000 of revenue. Which, we can't afford. So, most moms who get this subsidy send their kids to a Family care provider. The provider gets about $25/day per kid. This is not a living wage, and it means that poor folks can't get care, so they can't keep jobs, and as someone who spent a few years working in women's shelters I can tell you that this results in families living in hotels,cars and shelters.
Happy news: these folks got together. They got the state government to realize that this workforce (officially considered independent contractors who work for the parents) really works for the governement. The state pays these women to care for the poorest kids who need the most. So the state agreed to allow the care workers to collectively bargain WITH THE STATE which is fucking huge. The contract promises all family care workers that they will get higher subsidies for kids from low-income families. Also, they get some of the training folks at my center get about child development and learning, AND a very small few will get a teeny weeny bit of health care benefit. It rocks.
- Also, these women were awesome. They were all ages and sizes and most had loud voices. They all know about how to love children, but they also knew how to hold folks accountable. The staff were translating all the proceedings into Spanish and Somali because you can care for kids in any language, especially in a country without an official language (so far!) which also made me cry a little bit. For the record: I'm still off the smokes and therefore loopy and weepy all the time. I'm getting used to it, and kind of think it's nice how crazy and wrecked I get about everything.
- I got to hear Jone Bosworth Head of our brand new Department of Early Learning. She kicks ass and takes names and I'm totally stoked to have her on my side. She (a beauracrat) quoted Thurgood Marshall "When they tell you 'Go Slow' they mean 'Don't go." P.s. I think I have an unconscious block against spelling beaurocrat properly. I don't know why.
-We stayed at a place in Tacoma called the King Oscar Motel and Convention Center. This brought me no end of pleasure even though the flourescent lighting ALMOST made my nonsmoking self go out of my mind. (And, dude, didn't all the guys and women in those Union movies and stories all smoke?) Also I went out with two crazy union people to wander the strip around King Oscar's until we found Kareoke. The place is called Longitude 84 Sports Bar. It was startling well (flourescently) lit. The lighting conspired with the well spaced pool tables, electronic dart boards and few booths to feel like a cross between a Boys and Girls club and a Greyhound station. The Kareoke was hard core with few but serious performers. I sang "Walking After Midnight" "Mr. Jones" and something else. It was wicked fun. I even beat some old broad at pool by accident when she sunk the eight after lecturing me on calling every shot. Tremendous.
-We asked legislators to fund the Family Workers Contract. The governor has said that she'd like to offer the same subsidy rates to centers (like mine!) so we also asked folks to support that part of her budget. Lastly, we told folks that we are working on a way for workers in centers to collectively bargain with the state too. This sounds great in most ways, and also, kind of wierd, because I'm used to a more traditional model of a union. This kid includes everyone and says there's no bad guy, no "bosses". While I think this kind of organzing is great for kids, I don't think it'll have any impact on the long and glorious tradition of protest songs.
- We have an incredibly beautiful state capitol. I am SO sad I didn't bring my camera, but I will next time. I looked up at one point, while we were sitting in the atrium on some stairs eating lunch and making our plan. We were under this incredible dome, and there was a big old golden seal in the middle of the stairway with George Washington's face on it and that was surrounded by velvet rope, which I always find compelling because it reminds me of the Smithsonian and the bank when I was a kid at the same time. Anyway, I looked up while we were practicing our "message" and saw this 8 year old kid on the top stair across from me, and he was the coolest kid ever, I could tell. He was just walking along, and then, casual as anything, he popped the wheelies out of his shoes and just skated right along the top marble step under this pinkish dome just slow and easy as you please.And the staties didn't even try to stop him! Dude, I would have given anything to be in his shoes.
-I know I'm not the first to say it, but Jamie Pedersen House Democrat from Capitol Hill is the most charming politician I've ever met in my whole life. Also asked great questions. (Also comically short. I've discovered that dudes who are short AND are cool with that cannot under any circumstances be overestimated or stopped. Go Mr. Pedersen Go.) I know it's kind of demeaning, but also he's fucking adorable. I didn't want to say it, but I did. There.
- That's all I can think of about it right now. Everyone I spoke with was so respectful and seemed to be very excited about what can happen in our state for child care and education right now. I'm not very familiar with political excitement, really so it felt strange, but in a nice way. I was also representing my school in some way, which is wierd because we kick ass, AND we're in a wierd limbo. Folks from all over the country have heard of Hilltop Preschool AND I work with school agers afterschool which sounds like babysitting, which it's not. So, it felt funny. I felt like I was playing a part most of the time, but then from time to time I'd find that it was really me talking to organizers and reps and senators and aides, and that the smart ass cynic who was so uncomfortable had just taken off around lunch time.
Maybe, it's not so bad, my friends. It can work.
-I was surrounded by purple which may, it turns out, be my least favorite color. SEIU has chosen purple as its color. In general, I've found that folks who choose to like purple have a different relationship to their favorite color than others. For instance there's a whole store devoted to selling purple things.
Walking around the capitol building and seeing hundreds of purple people representing for childcare workers, mental health workers and nurses helped me get it, though. We were a presence, and that came through loud and clear and in tacky tacky bright shades of purple. It killed me, but I saw its use. Next time any of you people start a union PLEASE, how about black? Maybe black with some dark grey, or silver studs... I mean unity and visibility are great, but come on.... The best part is that folks wear all shades of purple, lavender and plum (I myself was wearing a somber aubergine.) so in our unity we clash terribly with one another, even as we represent.
Wait, I assure you this story gets better. (But it continues to be purple the whole time. Keep that in mind.)
-We were celebrating something huge. SEIU organized the 17,000 "Family Care Workers" in our state. (Note: Family Care Workers are also known as "In-Home Care givers" or folks like my mom who take in neighborhood kids for dough, and as a way to get paid for staying home with their own kids.) These folks care for 40 percent of the kids in our state. They now have a historic contract which made me want to cry more than once. It's a little complicated, but it goes like this: Poor folks need childcare in order to work, and they can't afford to send their kids to places like Hilltop, or places like anywhere in most cases. The state subsidizes care at about $500/month per kid. (My school is like $1000/month per kid. So if we want to do the right thing and offer our amazing services to kids from working class famlies, we need to suck up around $6000 of revenue. Which, we can't afford. So, most moms who get this subsidy send their kids to a Family care provider. The provider gets about $25/day per kid. This is not a living wage, and it means that poor folks can't get care, so they can't keep jobs, and as someone who spent a few years working in women's shelters I can tell you that this results in families living in hotels,cars and shelters.
Happy news: these folks got together. They got the state government to realize that this workforce (officially considered independent contractors who work for the parents) really works for the governement. The state pays these women to care for the poorest kids who need the most. So the state agreed to allow the care workers to collectively bargain WITH THE STATE which is fucking huge. The contract promises all family care workers that they will get higher subsidies for kids from low-income families. Also, they get some of the training folks at my center get about child development and learning, AND a very small few will get a teeny weeny bit of health care benefit. It rocks.
- Also, these women were awesome. They were all ages and sizes and most had loud voices. They all know about how to love children, but they also knew how to hold folks accountable. The staff were translating all the proceedings into Spanish and Somali because you can care for kids in any language, especially in a country without an official language (so far!) which also made me cry a little bit. For the record: I'm still off the smokes and therefore loopy and weepy all the time. I'm getting used to it, and kind of think it's nice how crazy and wrecked I get about everything.
- I got to hear Jone Bosworth Head of our brand new Department of Early Learning. She kicks ass and takes names and I'm totally stoked to have her on my side. She (a beauracrat) quoted Thurgood Marshall "When they tell you 'Go Slow' they mean 'Don't go." P.s. I think I have an unconscious block against spelling beaurocrat properly. I don't know why.
-We stayed at a place in Tacoma called the King Oscar Motel and Convention Center. This brought me no end of pleasure even though the flourescent lighting ALMOST made my nonsmoking self go out of my mind. (And, dude, didn't all the guys and women in those Union movies and stories all smoke?) Also I went out with two crazy union people to wander the strip around King Oscar's until we found Kareoke. The place is called Longitude 84 Sports Bar. It was startling well (flourescently) lit. The lighting conspired with the well spaced pool tables, electronic dart boards and few booths to feel like a cross between a Boys and Girls club and a Greyhound station. The Kareoke was hard core with few but serious performers. I sang "Walking After Midnight" "Mr. Jones" and something else. It was wicked fun. I even beat some old broad at pool by accident when she sunk the eight after lecturing me on calling every shot. Tremendous.
-We asked legislators to fund the Family Workers Contract. The governor has said that she'd like to offer the same subsidy rates to centers (like mine!) so we also asked folks to support that part of her budget. Lastly, we told folks that we are working on a way for workers in centers to collectively bargain with the state too. This sounds great in most ways, and also, kind of wierd, because I'm used to a more traditional model of a union. This kid includes everyone and says there's no bad guy, no "bosses". While I think this kind of organzing is great for kids, I don't think it'll have any impact on the long and glorious tradition of protest songs.
- We have an incredibly beautiful state capitol. I am SO sad I didn't bring my camera, but I will next time. I looked up at one point, while we were sitting in the atrium on some stairs eating lunch and making our plan. We were under this incredible dome, and there was a big old golden seal in the middle of the stairway with George Washington's face on it and that was surrounded by velvet rope, which I always find compelling because it reminds me of the Smithsonian and the bank when I was a kid at the same time. Anyway, I looked up while we were practicing our "message" and saw this 8 year old kid on the top stair across from me, and he was the coolest kid ever, I could tell. He was just walking along, and then, casual as anything, he popped the wheelies out of his shoes and just skated right along the top marble step under this pinkish dome just slow and easy as you please.And the staties didn't even try to stop him! Dude, I would have given anything to be in his shoes.
-I know I'm not the first to say it, but Jamie Pedersen House Democrat from Capitol Hill is the most charming politician I've ever met in my whole life. Also asked great questions. (Also comically short. I've discovered that dudes who are short AND are cool with that cannot under any circumstances be overestimated or stopped. Go Mr. Pedersen Go.) I know it's kind of demeaning, but also he's fucking adorable. I didn't want to say it, but I did. There.
- That's all I can think of about it right now. Everyone I spoke with was so respectful and seemed to be very excited about what can happen in our state for child care and education right now. I'm not very familiar with political excitement, really so it felt strange, but in a nice way. I was also representing my school in some way, which is wierd because we kick ass, AND we're in a wierd limbo. Folks from all over the country have heard of Hilltop Preschool AND I work with school agers afterschool which sounds like babysitting, which it's not. So, it felt funny. I felt like I was playing a part most of the time, but then from time to time I'd find that it was really me talking to organizers and reps and senators and aides, and that the smart ass cynic who was so uncomfortable had just taken off around lunch time.
Maybe, it's not so bad, my friends. It can work.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Headline: Yoga leads to carpet cleaning
Beware, friends, cause they dont' tell you this at the ashram, or the Y... yoga is not just about flexibility, strength, spiritual onenes with the cosmos and looking like Madonna. Oh no, it's also about opening yourself to your inner housewife.
This morning, as I leaned forward on my yoga mat, my attention kept turning from my body and position to the dark, nasty stains on my rental-colored carpet. These stains are the result of my cats' hairball and eating until vomiting habits, and I have scrubbed them before, but today, the shadows of Kitty Digesting Fluid were too much for my sensitive soul. I tried to gently refocus on my shoulders and hamstrings, but it was a struggle to tear my mind away from the filth. I finished my practice, and got my ass a rug-doctor from Safeway.
I rented one before, when I was equally desperate after a particularly well-attended New Years party. I'd assumed I'd be paying half my paycheck, but was stunned to discover that it's only 21 dollars (which for those of you keeping track of childcare salaries, is actually only 1/4 of my paycheck. Thank goodness for the union... oh and my sugardaddy.)
If you ever do this, (or want to clean anything else without filling your house with yucky chemicals) I highly recommend the book Better Basics for the Home by Annie Berthold-Bond. (Basically, everything comes down to vinegar, washing soda, borax and tea tree oil in differing amounts, but it's comforting to have someone else tell you how much, and why it works.) She's incredibly practical, wise and has thought of virtually anything you might want to clean. When we first got Trinity (the only cat I've ever had to housetrain) this book sat on my bedside table. Now it automatically opens to the pages on odor-removal, which are dog-earred and tear-stained.
Rather than buying the good Doctor's soap at Safeway for ten bucks, I just used a little simple green with borax and washing soda, and now (part of) my carpet is Poorly-Installed-by-Cheap-Landlord clean again. (And I didn't have to do this "experiment-with-homemade-hippie-dippie-cleaner-and-hope-I-don't
permanently-mark-my-carpet" which can be stressful. (I'm now taking a bit of a food break, but will return to the fray and finish before my allotted 24 hours are up.)
Tomorrow, I look forward to my monkey-mind obsessing over the super clean smell in the air instead.
This morning, as I leaned forward on my yoga mat, my attention kept turning from my body and position to the dark, nasty stains on my rental-colored carpet. These stains are the result of my cats' hairball and eating until vomiting habits, and I have scrubbed them before, but today, the shadows of Kitty Digesting Fluid were too much for my sensitive soul. I tried to gently refocus on my shoulders and hamstrings, but it was a struggle to tear my mind away from the filth. I finished my practice, and got my ass a rug-doctor from Safeway.
I rented one before, when I was equally desperate after a particularly well-attended New Years party. I'd assumed I'd be paying half my paycheck, but was stunned to discover that it's only 21 dollars (which for those of you keeping track of childcare salaries, is actually only 1/4 of my paycheck. Thank goodness for the union... oh and my sugardaddy.)
If you ever do this, (or want to clean anything else without filling your house with yucky chemicals) I highly recommend the book Better Basics for the Home by Annie Berthold-Bond. (Basically, everything comes down to vinegar, washing soda, borax and tea tree oil in differing amounts, but it's comforting to have someone else tell you how much, and why it works.) She's incredibly practical, wise and has thought of virtually anything you might want to clean. When we first got Trinity (the only cat I've ever had to housetrain) this book sat on my bedside table. Now it automatically opens to the pages on odor-removal, which are dog-earred and tear-stained.
Rather than buying the good Doctor's soap at Safeway for ten bucks, I just used a little simple green with borax and washing soda, and now (part of) my carpet is Poorly-Installed-by-Cheap-Landlord clean again. (And I didn't have to do this "experiment-with-homemade-hippie-dippie-cleaner-and-hope-I-don't
permanently-mark-my-carpet" which can be stressful. (I'm now taking a bit of a food break, but will return to the fray and finish before my allotted 24 hours are up.)
Tomorrow, I look forward to my monkey-mind obsessing over the super clean smell in the air instead.
Sunday, January 7, 2007
These things happen to other people....
I'm pretty crazed and confused just now on account of the whole no nicotine thing, right? Last night I went to a party, and stayed up "late" (these folks have kids) drinking whiskey, only because NOBODY at this "party" smoked, and therefore I did not run the risk of getting tipsy and immediately bumming a smoke from someone. (I did, during a quiet moment, sneak outside, and kind of casually perused the porch, poking around behind the bigwheel, an old desk rubber balls, hoolahoops and stuff hoping to locate *an old butt lying around on the porch* from the last time I'd been there, like a month ago. ("Which", my tortured psyche was telling me "would have quite a bit of tobacco in it because of course I couldn't ever smoke a whole one at this house before the six year old would come out and catch me at it and lecture me. Heartbreak. Guilt etc.) Ewww. This skulking only lasted a minute before I caught myself at what I was doing and hied my ass inside, disgusted.
So, anyway, just completely whacko these last couple of days. I "talked about my feelings" on a phone call with my seester (thanks, dear.) which may have been a terrible idea and then was kind of a wreck, and got myself all worked up and wacky in the middle of my messy nest of a "my husband's away so I can knit/eat/read/sleep/draw anywhere I damn well please" living room. Just losing my shit... my stomach actually hurt from churning all that nasty emotionality around with all the detox tea, and my stomach is made of iron, friends. Iron, or perhaps Titanium which gets stronger with age.
When (here's the amazing part) suddenly, I realized that I could go running and feel better.
I've been running (very sporadically) since last February when a dear friend convinced me it would be the secret to quitting the LAST time I tried. (He even took me out to buy sassy blue shoes.) I have run cheerfully and sleepily and lots of other ways, but never to meet a clear and present need. Just out of some obligation and a fondness for looking at scenery slowly. Today, I ran to change the way I felt, and it worked, and I felt great and came home and did yoga to music (?!) everything in the whole world became sparkly and open and kind of animated. Including my stomach, and the piles of yarn, and the cat fur all over the couch. Amazing. Tremendous.
I think it also might be time for me to write the second fan letter of my whole life to Ani Difranco for her record that I downloaded for free from her website, which feels kind of wrong, though obviously condoned. And probably to not use so many quotation marks. I'm compensating, here people.""""" Anyway, I've always liked Evolve, but it was part of all the mind-blowing that happened here in my living room today.
So, anyway, just completely whacko these last couple of days. I "talked about my feelings" on a phone call with my seester (thanks, dear.) which may have been a terrible idea and then was kind of a wreck, and got myself all worked up and wacky in the middle of my messy nest of a "my husband's away so I can knit/eat/read/sleep/draw anywhere I damn well please" living room. Just losing my shit... my stomach actually hurt from churning all that nasty emotionality around with all the detox tea, and my stomach is made of iron, friends. Iron, or perhaps Titanium which gets stronger with age.
When (here's the amazing part) suddenly, I realized that I could go running and feel better.
I've been running (very sporadically) since last February when a dear friend convinced me it would be the secret to quitting the LAST time I tried. (He even took me out to buy sassy blue shoes.) I have run cheerfully and sleepily and lots of other ways, but never to meet a clear and present need. Just out of some obligation and a fondness for looking at scenery slowly. Today, I ran to change the way I felt, and it worked, and I felt great and came home and did yoga to music (?!) everything in the whole world became sparkly and open and kind of animated. Including my stomach, and the piles of yarn, and the cat fur all over the couch. Amazing. Tremendous.
I think it also might be time for me to write the second fan letter of my whole life to Ani Difranco for her record that I downloaded for free from her website, which feels kind of wrong, though obviously condoned. And probably to not use so many quotation marks. I'm compensating, here people.""""" Anyway, I've always liked Evolve, but it was part of all the mind-blowing that happened here in my living room today.
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