Second Blooming

The Rawhide Legend

According to legend...

Mama was working in the garden, planting some new rose bushes. She was not wearing gardening gloves, because she liked the way the moist dirt felt on her hands. She would come to regret this.

It was mid-March, and the weather in Texas was starting to warm up, so she had decided to garden at dusk, when it was pleasantly cool outside.

She was wearing a large and not particularly attractive muumuu, which her sister-in-law, Verna, had sent her from Hawaii. It was the only thing that still fit her, as she had outgrown all of her maternity clothes.

Oh, did I fail to mention that she was pregnant? She was. Quite pregnant, in fact. But she still had a couple of weeks until her due date, so she was pretty surprised when labor pains started in fast and furious. She sunk down to her knees.

"Roy!!!" she cried.

Nothing.

"ROY!!!" she yelled out, louder.

Nothing.

She managed to get up and stagger into the house. Daddy was sitting in his big chair in the living room, watching "Rawhide" on television. Daddy loved a good Western.

"Roy! It's TIME!!" Mama cried. Mama was often melodramatic.

"Now?" Daddy asked calmly. Daddy was never melodramatic.

"Yes! Now! The baby is coming now!"

"Well, why don't you go lie down and let me watch the rest of "Rawhide". It will take a while for that baby to get here. We'll drive in to the hospital after the show," declared Daddy, ever the pragmatist.

"But this baby is coming NOW!"

A rather large fight ensued.

Mama, of course, won, as pregnant women in labor tend to do, and Daddy turned off "Rawhide" and drove her to the hospital.

When they got there, they whisked her into the Maternity Ward, and told Daddy to go home. They would call him when it was closer to the time for delivery.

Once Mama got into the Maternity Ward, they stuck her in a bed in the corner and refused to call her doctor. It was far too early, they said, it will still be many hours until that baby was ready to come out.

"But this baby is coming NOW!"

 "Oh my goodness, you older mothers..." scoffed the nurse. Mama never forget this line.

Because she was, in fact, an older mother - almost 40. Which was rare in those days. And the nurse in charge seemed to think that Mama was a silly, over-reacting older mother, who clearly didn't know anything about birthing babies.

Mama became convinced that they just weren't taking her seriously enough because she was wearing this terrible muumuu and she had dirt stuck under her fingernails. She was afraid that they thought she was some kind of low-class woman, who didn't know any better than to go into labor with dirty nails.

"I was gardening! I'm not usually dirty!" Mama tried to tell the nurses, "I should have worn gloves!  This baby is coming NOW!"

Finally, after a few hours, she convinced a nurse to come and examine her, and sure enough the nurse took one look and said "This baby is coming NOW!"

They called her doctor, and Daddy, who both rushed down to the hospital. Within an hour, the doctor found Daddy out in the waiting room, and told him he was the father of a healthy baby girl. Me. It was just after midnight on March 18, 1961.

 

Notice that by now she has washed her hands and put on a little lipstick. And a bow.

Daddy never got to see the end of that episode of "Rawhide". And Daddy, having the wry sense of humor that he did, complained about it for the rest of his life. Every year on my birthday, he'd mutter sadly, "Never did see the end of that "Rawhide". Every time the show was on, he'd watch, but after a few minutes he'd shake his head sadly, "Nope. That's not the episode."

But Daddy didn't have Google. Or IMDb. Or YouTube. Though he would have loved them - all that information at his fingertips. And I, being very much my father's daughter, did a bit of research.

I Googled "Rawhide March 17, 1961" and sure enough..."Rawhide" Season 3, Episode 19, Incident Near Gloomy River  popped right up on IMDb! The legend has been confirmed! And John Cassavetes was the guest star, so I guess it was a good episode!

My next stop was YouTube, and guess what? A scene from Incident Near Gloomy River. Gotta love the young Clint.

And so, this is for you Da.

 

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This post was inspired by...

 

Prompt #3 - Tell us about the story of your birth.

A Day in the Life

I never talk about my day to day working life as an actor. Most of you know that I am an actress. And I sometimes mention a job I've worked. But the day to day drudgery is something I usually spare you. Mostly because it's...well, drudgery. Or that's how I feel about it anyway. It's not glamorous or exciting. But I guess for people unfamiliar with "the business" it might be kind of interesting. So...

I used to audition MUCH more than I do now. That is in part because of my age, roles dwindle as we women get older, but mostly, it's because when Jude was born I mostly stopped working in television and film, but have continued doing commercials. It's easy to audition for commercials when you have a kid, because bringing them with you isn't a problem. When you read for a tv show, you are given a scene or two to prepare in advance, so you need to concentrate, and allow the other actresses at the audition to focus as well. But for a commercial audition, you are handed material at the last second, and you basically just wing it. So toting a child with you is doable.

Commercials are a crap shoot. When I mention to someone that I had an audition, they inevitably ask "Oooo, what was it for?" and I never tell them. Because I will NOT get the VAST majority of the things I audition for. According to the Screen Actors Guild, the odds are something dismal like...1 job for every 40 auditions. And that's if you're doing pretty well. So I go on these things and then immediately...forget them. It's the only way an actor can handle all of the rejection.

The other day, I had three auditions in one day. And, naturally, they were all within a two hour period. Right when Jude needed to be taken to his swim practice. This is always the way it works. The soonest I know about an audition is the night before, but often I'll find out a couple of hours before, and I have to scramble.

In this case, I was able to reach my friend Carol, whose daughter is also on the swim team, and she was able to take Jude to his practice while I did my thing.

The first audition was at a casting studio in Beverly Hills. Commercials are mostly cast out of large casting offices around the city. Casting directors rent space at the casting office to hold their auditions. These places usually have a  large actors waiting area set up in the middle, with a number of small rooms around the periphery where the auditions are actually held. When I arrive at one of these places, the first thing I do is figure out which of these small studios my particular audition is in.

Once you locate the place, you write your name on a sign-in sheet, check to see if you have any "copy" (lines) and take a look at something called a "story board", which is basically a little cartoon drawing of what's going to happen in the commercial. Sometimes, the casting people will call a bunch of you into the little room for what they call a "group explanation", in which the casting assistant who is running the audition session talks you through exactly what they want you to do in the spot.

You then go sit and wait. And wait. And wait. At this particular casting office, all of the actors are forced to sit on stools which I have always referred to inside my brain as "the egg cups". Because they look very much like this...

 

...if this was 2 feet tall and plastic,

 

I consider them to be the most uncomfortable and demeaning place to sit imaginable. I always rebel and just sit on the floor.

This first audition was for a women's calcium supplement, and was particularly heinous. It was "just a look". In other words, it didn't matter if you could walk and talk at the same time, they just wanted to see what you look like. I hate, hate, HATE these. I didn't go to drama school for this! And I almost never book them. Probably because of my bad attitude. The other women there were models. Well, middle-aged models anyway. But they were all very, very thin, and had all had tremendous amounts of Botox injected into their faces.

The "breakdown" for this audition (the information sent by the casting people to the agents) described my character as such - "She’s a woman who tries to stay informed as her bodies’ [sic] needs change. That attitude is reflected in how she looks and how she acts. This woman is slightly more aspirational and youthful for her age." Gag.

For my audition, I had to stand on my mark in front of the camera and "slate". Which one does for every audition. A slate is basically just saying your name and smiling for the camera. Sometimes they'll ask you to show "profiles" and sometimes they (gasp!) want to see your hands. Well for this audition, they not only made me show my profiles and hands, but also 3/4 shots, full-body shots and then they made me walk to the back wall, turn around and strike a series of fricking poses! SO humiliating. I am much too old for this.

After this horror, I got back in my car and fought traffic to get to the next audition was much more my thing. The description for this was "Real to slightly character looking, interesting and expressive face. Typical suburban woman." Whew. This one I could handle.

After signing in, I was grouped with two actors with whom I was to be auditioning. One was playing my husband, and the other, the creepy guy who was living with us. I will spare you the full explanation. It was supposed to be funny. This "husband" thing is very common, I am almost always assigned a husband or a family. You try to have "chemistry" with them - it makes everybody look better. But sometimes it's rough. Usually, you have to create this chemistry with a total stranger, but every now and then I'll go in with someone I actually know (sometimes one of the dads from Jude's school!), which is even stranger.

In this second audition, my "husband" and I were snuggling in bed, with our creepy stranger man in the bed with us. So we arrange ourselves on some chairs under a blanket and they video us snuggling. We then move to the next little scene, in which I'm saying goodbye to my husband and the creepy man as they head off to work in the morning. They both kissed me goodbye. I am often asked to touch and be touched by strangers in ways that would be considered inappropriate in most situations.

The last audition was at the same location (NOTE: This is highly unusual - usually I am driving back and forth across the city all day), so I simply moved to the next little room and signed in there. I had to change clothes into a nice dress with pearls and heels so I could be "Proud mom, attending graduation for her son. Great actress, great with dialogue and improv." Well finally, somebody wanted me to have a bit of talent.

When I'm called in, I am given yet another husband, and we are told to sit on chairs and watch our invisible son walking across an invisible stage to receive his invisible diploma. At this point, an invisible streaker runs across the invisible stage, upsetting my invisible son's graduation. My "husband" and I must react to this upset. There is no snuggling or kissing involved this time. At some point, I had to turn to the side and speak to my invisible daughter, who they were apparently casting at a later date. The aforementioned dialogue which they want me to be "great" with, consisted of two lines. 

After this, I ran, literally ran in my heels and pearls, to my car, jumped in and high-tailed it over to pick Jude up at his swim practice. I had texted my friend Carol to tell her I was on the way, and she kindly stayed with Jude on the street in front of the place until I got there. We then drove home and I took a handful of Advil.

So this is what I do.

I'll never forget the time, many years ago, when Mama had come to LA to visit, and she got to go into an audition with me. After watching me stand there in front of the camera staring wistfully at an invisible sunset while contemplating how happy I was with my sinus medication, Mama turned to me and asked "Is that all you do?" It was not her most encouraging mothering moment, but it was, in fact, what I ask myself all the time.

Not as glamorous as you thought, right?

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This post was inspired by...

 

 

Prompt #1 - Something that gave you a headache.

Spin Cycle: Things I Keep Doing

Inspired by Keely the Un Mom's post HERE, I present to you: Things I Keep Doing...

Deciding I'm going to grow out my hair.

I just can't let go of the dream of having a long mane of flowing hair, like I once did. Unfortunately, it does NOT look good anymore. It doesn't have the same texture. I am too old for it. I will never work again as an actress if I let it grow. I must not do this.

Saving the rubber bands.

Every time I find a rubber band, I add it to my big rubber band ball. Then, periodically, I realize that all of the rubber bands in the big rubber band ball are old and cracked, and I throw the whole thing out. I then, of course, start a new rubber band ball. I seem to need about...3 rubber bands at any given time in my life. I do not need 460 rubber bands.

Buying tofu.

I think I can honestly say that I have never eaten a dish made from tofu which made me say "Ooooo, yummers!" The best I can do is "Hmmm, edible". But I keep purchasing the tofu in various forms, and I continue to think it's nasty.

Wearing the silly ears.

Every year, when I unpack the Easter decorations, and decorate the house, I stick a pair of bunny ears on my head. And promptly forget that I'm wearing them. I have answered the door for the UPS man in my bunny ears. I have worn them to the grocery store, absolutely oblivious to the reason everyone was staring at me. On Tuesday when I unpacked the decorations, I immediately stuck them on my head. I next realized they were on my head when I got out of the car at Jude's school.

Looking and gasping.

I always have an idea of what I look like. I think I know what my hair looks like, my face, my body. I have a firm idea of myself inside my head. But daily, I walk past a mirror, see the person who is me in said mirror, and gasp in disbelief. Is that really what I look like? I look awful! How can I be so off in my perception of myself?

Telling the same stories.

I have done this all my life. I'll have a story which I deem funny and charming and then I dopily repeat it over and over, forgetting who I have already told it to. And it's usually a story that I believe makes me seem sexy and incredibly clever. Which, of course, makes it seem even more pathetic and not sexy nor clever when someone has heard it 3 or 4 times.

Expecting Jimmy to learn.

A few weeks ago, I complained about how Jimmy, after having lived in our home for 8 years, still does not know where things belong in our kitchen. But the most ridiculous thing about this is that I continue to think he will learn. "See look, honey, the bowls nest inside each other on this shelf. See?" "Look honey, this shelf has the CERAMIC bowls, and this other shelf has the PLASTIC bowls. They're different, see?" But he never learns. He will never learn.

Saying "yes".

I seem to be almost pathologically incapable of saying "no" when asked to help with something. I am never the one who asks "Could you make these phone calls for me?" but I am always the one who, when asked this same question says "Okay." I have tried to analyze myself in this regard. Is it guilt? No, I don't think so. Is it a need to be seen as "capable" and "a doer"? Yes, probably. I firmly believe in the 20/80 theory - that 20 percent of the people do 80 percent of the work. And I am terribly proud to be part of the 20 percent. I enjoy it. It makes me happy. So why do I complain all the time??!!

What stupid things do you keep doing?

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Don't do that thing where you leave without reading the other spinners!

Nain at View From Down Here

Janice at I Got Nothing

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Lynn at Curly Girl's Music World - NEW on FRIDAY!

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Spring

Yes, I know that many of you East Coasters are still under a pile of snow. But it's been Springtime for over a week now, and I think it's time for some Spring awakening!

What Springtime things are you thinking about? Flowers? Birdies? Bunnies? Hay fever?

Show us pictures of Spring in your neck of the woods. Have you pulled out a few Spring dresses from the back of the closet? Let's see them.

Write you spin on Spring. Post it. Let me know. I'll link it.

 

Share your spin!
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RTT: Vandy, Maya and Tinkle

 

I have, rather indulgently. been celebrating my birthday aaaaaaaaaaaaall week with lots of girlfriend fun.

First...Vandy J and The Testosterone Three came to visit!!

Vandy and I on the beach in Santa Monica!

I can't tell you how much fun we had! Vandy is every bit as nice and fun and easy-going as you'd think from her blog. We never stopped talking for the entire day. It was like we were old friends. And her boys were absolutely darling! They were all extremely good sports when I got us all hopelessly gridlocked in traffic.

Turbo digging for crabs.

Bruiser with rake we begged off a lifeguard.

Look at that smile!!

Seriously, I wanted to take both boys home with me! Jude would love a couple of brothers! Can't wait for them to come back again, and we can get Turbo and Jude together.

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Next, my college roommate Lannyl came to town from New York and stayed with us a couple of nights...

Lannyl is someone who I can not see for 6 months, and when we're together we pick up right where we were as if we saw each other yesterday. It always amazes me how alike our lives are on their opposite coasts! She is also welcome back any time she wants!

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Then on Friday, Lynn and I celebrated our birthdays (Lynn's was Tuesday!) by meeting for high tea at the Polo Lounge in the Beverly Hills Hotel. Veeeeery swanky. Tea, finger sandwiches, scones and clotted cream, pastries. Oh yes, it was good. Celebrity sightings: Warren Beatty (looking pretty old, I must say) and Maya Rudolph who is very pregnant. Here's a shot of our pastries and the back of Maya's head...

 

Honest to God, Lynn wasn't trying to take a picture of Maya Rudolph, just of our pastries. The woman has priorities.

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I am fairly obsessed with this website - Archetype Me. Basically, you take a little quiz and then the website decides which archetypes you most resemble, the archetypes being - Advocate, Athlete, Caregiver, Creative, Fashionista, Intellectual, Queen/Executive, Rebel, Spiritual and Visionary. I am a Caregiver/Intellectual/Creative. Which does, in fact, pretty much sum me up in neat stereotypes. Then you check out articles and websites chosen to fit your particular archetype types. It's pretty fun, I must say. And...a time suck. So...warning.

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I laughed.

 

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I LOVE these. A photographer father uses his 5-year old daughter to recreate classic paintings. These are truly amazing portraits, not copies of classic paintings, but more...inspired by them.

Definitely worth checking out!

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 That's all the random for today. Go see Stacy for more fun!

RTT: Birthday, Corned Beef and Graffiti

Oh hello there! Yes, I DID have a happy birthday, thank you very much for asking. It was a lovely, lazy day. Jimmy made me breakfast in bed...

 

He needs a little work on his plating technique, but it was tasty. And yes, I broke the old "never eat anything bigger than your head" rule.

...then he set up a spot for me in the living room - complete with roses and a fire in the fireplace. Jimmy does good birthday.

 

View from my spot.

What did I do in my little spot? Well, as I may have mentioned before (mmm...possibly a number of times), I have given up my video games for Lent. HOWEVER, as every good little Catholic child who was unfortunate enough to be born during the Lenten season knows, it is absolutely fine and dandy for you cheat on your vow on your birthday. That's what my Mama taught me anyway. I'm not sure if this is actually written somewhere in Catholic dogma, but I choose to believe it is correct. So...I played me some games. Hehe.

 

In order to share my day more efficient, I have created for you a pie chart, a la Becky...

 

How I spent my birthday...

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How was everybody's St. Patrick's day? I made the best damned Corned Beef and Cabbage that I have ever made. It was like butter, I tell you, like BUTTER. I just mixed up a bunch of recipes I found on the internet and I am gonna tell you the recipe because I'm afraid that if I don't write it down here, I won't remember it next year! Also, I'm pretty sure that one reason it was so tasty was because of that homemade Sweet & Hot Honey Mustard I made for Christmas gifts. So check that out too. And then stow this recipe away for next St. Paddy's.

Corned Beef and Cabbage

2 - 2 1/2 lbs. corned beef

little packet that comes in the corned beef package

1 large onion, sliced into wedges

10 cups water (I was gonna pour in a bottle of beer, but decided tlo drink it instead)

10 baby potatoes (halved)

3 carrots (peeled and cut into 1 inch pieces)

1 small cabbage, sliced into thick wedges

Remove the corned beef from it's wrapping, and rinse it well in a colander. Place in a large Dutch oven with a lid. Arrange onions around the beef, then sprinkle the top with the package of seasoning. Pour water all around it. Cover, place on top of the stove and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer for 2 1/2 hours.

Remove lid and add the potatoes and carrots. Simmer for 15 minutes more, then add cabbage and simmer for yet another 15 minutes.

Slice across the grain, and serve with au jus and vegies plus some of that good mustard.

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Jude and I went and saw Oz the Great and Powerful the other day.

I was pretty disappointed. I don't know what I expected. I mean it wasn't as bad as the dreaded Space Chimps (the thought of which still makes all the muscles in my neck convulse) but I wasn't impressed. I mean, the special effects were pretty outrageous, but seriously, I am SO BLOODY TIRED OF 3D!! It just gives me a stinking headache! Hate it! James Franco was horribly miscast. He's very cute and charming and all that, but he just couldn't wrap his mouth around the dialogue. It was sort of embarrassing. And Mila Kunis was so terrible it was startling. At one point I actually said OUT LOUD "She's just horrible!" and people turned around and looked at me and nodded. Michelle Williams and Rachel Weisz were pretty good though, they both had the chops to pull off the style of the piece. But it all just seemed like a kind of sacrilege. They should have just left The Wizard of Oz alone.

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These cracked me up - 15 Signs Improved By Hilarious Graffitti. My faves...

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And I LOVE this! Detailed Floor Plans Reveal Apartment Layouts of Fictional New York Characters. This artist has accurately and artfully rendered floor plans for tv sets...

 

No way she could have afforded that!

She should have drawn in the cereal boxes.

 

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That's all the random for today! Go see Stacy!

Trying So Hard to Be Good

Have any of you found a decent replacement for Google Reader? Do y'all even use Google Reader?

For those of you who have no idea what the hell I'm talking about:

Google Reader is a "news reading platform". Which basically means it's a place where you can bookmark all of your favorite blogs and websites. Then they'll keep track of what is read and what is unread and who has posted something new. It's very convenient if you're someone who keeps up with a bunch of blogs.

Which I'm not. I'm supposed to be, since I'm...a blogger. But as all of you who are my fellow bloggers know, I am terrible at keeping up. I'll go through little spurts when I'm super on top of things - reading and commenting like crazy. But then I get distracted (and lazy) and suddenly, I'll go to my Google Reader and they'll say I have 240 unread posts so I just kind of freak out and start hitting "Mark all as Read" and give up.

But since (as many of you already know because of all my whining) I have given up games for Lent, I suddenly have much more time for things such as reading, and I've been trying to be better. Not much better, but a little better.

So the other day, I went to my Google Reader and they say that it's closing on July 1! I don't know why.

I started poking around on the web, and found some alternate sites that I thought I'd try, but I swear, I've never had more trouble doing anything on the computer. This was harder than when I built my little Spin Cycle button thingy, and that just about killed me. This is not a user-friendly deal, y'all!

First, I tried a place called Feedly, which seemed promising because it was so pretty. Much more attractive than Google Reader - sort of looks like you're reading a magazine. At first I thought "fabulous!" because they allowed me to sync my Google Reader subscriptions and "follows" really easily. But then things got wonky. I can't figure out how to add a new website. Yes, I click "Add Website" and a little thingy pops up, but they only let me add their "suggested" websites. And I can't figure out how to edit and delete sites - I can with some,  not with others. And for some reason, it lists the blogs I'm following twice - the same blogs twice, like I accidentally duplicated them, but I didn't. I swear.  So this is all very frustrating.

Second, I tried The Old Reader, which is billed as being just like what Google Reader used to be, before they "upgraded" it. So I thought it would be easier. Yeah, right. After about an hour, I managed to import my Google Reader contents, via something called an OPML file. Don't ask. I don't even know how I did it, I just kept pushing buttons until something worked. But then...The Old Reader says, "Thank you for uploading your OPML file. We will soon start importing your subscriptions, which might take up to several hours depending on the amount of feeds you have. There are 27177 users in the import queue ahead of you."

Yes, that is right, 27177 users in front of me! It has said this for over 24 hours now. Apparently, everybody is bailing on Google Reader at the same time, and The Old Reader folks weren't prepared for all the traffic. This morning they posted something on the site apologizing, and assuring us that they "were able to ramp up the queue processing speed, so it should move along much faster now." Yeah, I'll believe it when I see it.

Then I decided to try NewsBlur (and yes, I am going down a list of "5 Best Google Reader Alternatives"), but after I signed up, they told me that "Due to overwhelming demand, free accounts are temporarily suspended." and then they suggested I go "premium" for $24 a month. %&#$@!

So I've temporarily given up. Does anybody have any ideas?

Oh look, it's now been several hours since I wrote the above, and The Old Reader says I now only have 27014 users in the import queue ahead of me. Woohoo!!! (That was sarcasm)

Oh, by the way...it's my birthday. I realize that by now, most of you have stopped reading this long and boring rant about technical nonsense, so you probably won't read this. How old am I? 143. And I think I'm looking good for my age.

6 Things I Never Learned in School

1. How to work it

From elementary school through high school, I was absolutely convinced that no boy would ever think I was hot. I never had a boyfriend, I was never one of the popular girls. And it wasn't until college that I figured out that my problem wasn't the way I looked or even the way I acted. It was that I was absolutely and completely unaware of my own sexuality. Nobody had ever taught me how to work it. But now, I could teach the class. We'd have lessons like "Cleavage is Your Friend", "Flirting To Achieve Your Goals" and "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar".

2. How to act

This may seem odd, since I was an...ACTING major. But, I really didn't figuring out what I was doing until I studied years later in LA. I think this might be a sad truth about learning many of the fine arts in a university setting. For one thing, becoming a proficient actor involves having a safe place where you can allow yourself to be completely vulnerable, and that ain't college. Also, art is so completely subjective, but professors have no choice but to give people grades. And naturally, some students are going to be much more talented than others, but others are hard workers. How do you grade that? So professors are forced to fill the curriculum with gradable busy work. I'm afraid I learned much more about beer and men than the actual craft of acting.

3. Patience

Life would be so much more pleasant if I had somehow at some time been taught how to be patient. I've grappled with this all my life. I am CONSTANTLY either waiting for something to happen, or worrying that something will happen, or wishing somebody would get out of my way. It's such a waste of energy. I'm not quite sure what they'd teach in Patience 101. It probably would involve a certain amount of deep breathing. Letting go. I fear I will never learn this.

4. Math

Okay, I guess that I should clarify. I was TAUGHT math. I just never LEARNED math. I got good grades because I have a good short-term memory and I like puzzles so I could make a formula work for me. But I never, ever understood the concepts - the bigger picture of math. The reasoning behind the answers. And so now, I remember virtually nothing. This is becoming more and more apparent now that Jude is entering the terrifying world of geometry and such. I am trying very hard not to let him realize that mom counts on her fingers.

5. Self motivation

I am a life-long procrastinator and dawdler. I can function very well and efficiently if I am given a deadline. But I almost always wait to the last minute to get things done. I was a notorious test-crammer. I can't tell you how many end of the semester projects I finished during an all-nighter on the last day of school. I know full well that my work would be of a higher quality if I paced myself more effectively. But...just can't do it.

6. Failure

Well that's not really right, I certainly learned how to fail. Just not how to accept failure gracefully, and move on. Luckily, my parents did endow me with a healthy dose of self-respect. Which is pretty important in order to fail gracefully. And here I am in a profession in which one is rejected on a daily basis. And nowadays, it's even worse - no kid ever fails. Everybody's a winner! So maybe these kids are gonna be in serious need of a course on Failure. I'm not sure how the curriculum would be designed. Maybe they'd lead you to believe you were succeeding, only to pull the rug out from under you in an embarrassing and public way? Then they would offer you lessons in How to Minimize Your Wallowing and Binge Drinking,  How to Believe in Yourself Even When Your Life Feels Meaningless and most importantly How to Know When You Really Have Failed and It's Time to Get a New Profession.

What things did YOU never learn in school?

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This post was inspired by

Prompt #5 - 6 things you never learned in school.

Spin Cycle: Why?

Why are all the tv shows that I like so filled with profanity and inappropriate material that I can't watch them around Jude? It's a real pain in the butt.

Why do I never bring a sweater when I need it...but always bring a sweater when I don't?

Why is everybody suddenly misusing the word "epic"? "That's an epic video game!!!!" Oh really? Is it noting or pertaining to The Iliad? Is it heroic or majestic? Is it of unusually great size? This silliness is bad enough when Jude and his friends us it, but the other day a friend of mine, a middle-aged man who generally knows a thing or two said something like "That movie was epic!!" and it just stunned me. Someone needs to put an end to this.

Why is taking the Lord's name in vain so incredibly satisfying?

Why does Jimmy, after we've lived in our home for 8 years, still not know where things belong in our kitchen?

Why is it that I always think of incredibly important, fascinating and random things that I must look up on my iPhone...during church? I mean really, must I pull out the phone and Google the Benihana menu or the lyrics to that song "Feeling Good" right in the middle of the priests homily?

Why has that stupid "prove you're not a robot" thing when you're leaving comments on people's blogs become so difficult? The blurry numbers? Who can read that? And we still get the spam!

Why does morning come so quickly?

Why is the lane I'm in on the freeway AND the lane I'm in at the grocery store always the slowest? And then, why don't I change lanes to the faster one? I should. But I don't. I just sit there in the slow lane getting mad. Why do I do that?

Why does Jude's room devolve from tidy to disastrous so quickly? We're talking seconds. I mean, the entire room can be perfect and the kid walks in the room, then out of the room...and it's trashed. I don't know how he does it.

Why do all those kids on American Idol sound the same to me?

Why are there four judges on American Idol this year? They know that four is too many. Keith Urban seems like a truly nice and decent man, but...not the sharpest tool in the shed. On the other hand Nicki Minaj seems like a truly nasty and unpleasant woman, but...she has some smart stuff to say. Randy is Randy. And then...I just fast forward through Mariah Carey.

Why do I still watch American Idol anyway?

Why am I so excited about the new Target? They are building  a new Target about a half a mile from me, and I am so excited I'm about to bust. I keep driving by to see how the construction has progressed. Can't wait!

Why would anyone think it's an okay thing to floss their teeth in public?

Why do I have my best writing ideas when I'm in the shower? I am often forced to take notes in the steam on the shower door.

Why does our little dog, Fancy, always want to sleep on top of me? I think that on top of Jimmy or Jude would be an excellent place for a dog to sleep. But no.

Why did God give women menopause? I find that most things about our bodies and nature have a certain logic to them; there is method to the madness. But these menopausal symptoms just don't follow any logic to me. I mean, I understand why, after a certain age, women should stop being able to have children. But why the hot flashes? Why the mood swings? To what end? Does God intend to simply torture us? You'd think we would be rewarded for all that bleeding and propagating the species, don't you think? All I can figure is that it's nature's way of making us so nasty and unattractive that no one would possibly want to have sex with us anymore.

Why haven't you joined in the Spin Cycle this week? Go write something quick! Join the fun!

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Why don't you be nice and drop by our other "Why" spinners?

Nain at View From Down Here

Jan at Jan's Sushi Bar

Janice at I Got Nothing

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Kendra at Life in the slow lane

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie - NEW on FRIDAY!

Arnebya at What Now and Why - NEW on FRIDAY!

Mimi at Magical Mystical Mimi - NEW on SUNDAY!

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Advice

You know you want to give some. You're just dying to give that unsolicited advice you've had bubbling up in the back of your throat forever. But those foolish friends who desperately need your advice never ask!

Or maybe, you NEED some advice. A difficult and confusing decision to make? Open it up to the internets for help!

Or maybe you could share with us the best advice you ever got. Or the WORST.

Write your spin. Post it. Let me know. I'll link it.

Come back next Friday for my spin on "Advice" + the spin topic for the next week.

And let me know if you want me to add you to the Spin Cycle topic reminder email! It's easy and free!

 

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Spin Cycle: Sometimes

Sometimes, I'll confidently walk into a room, filled with purpose, and absolutely focused on completing some very important task, something that would, no doubt, make our life infinitely better, but then I stop...and have absolutely no idea what I was about to do.

Sometimes, I get so excited when Jude's loving a book he's reading, that I'll hover just outside his bedroom door and surreptitiously watch him curled up with his book, on the verge of tears because it makes me so happy. And if he begs for me to let him stay up for "Just one more chapter!", I always let him, no matter how late it is.

Sometimes, I look into a mirror, expecting to see myself there, but instead, I see this slightly frumpy, saggy, middle-aged woman, who looks very, very much like...my mother.

Sometimes, I get tired of being Jimmy's straight man. Just once, I want to be the funny one. But then I once again find myself drawn into setting up the joke for him - I'm always the George Burns and he's always the Gracie.

Sometimes, I just assume that everyone likes me. But then, if I think about it, I realize that this is most likely not true.

Sometimes, I get secret joy from embarrassing Jude in public. I just can't seem to stop myself from singing a Christmas carol at the top of my lungs in the grocery store in April or some such thing. I know how much he hates it, but I do it anyway. I have no excuse for this behavior.

Sometimes, I wake up in the morning absolutely inspired to complete all of the many, many tasks I need to do, but then, somehow, I end up doing absolutely nothing all day but watching British tv shows which I've DVRed and fiddling on the internet.

Sometimes, I toss and turn in bed at night, unable to sleep. And after a while, I realize that the problem is that there is a tiny grain of sand, or maybe a tiny crumb underneath me. After I managed to flick it out of the bed, I'm good to go. I'm a total Princess and the Pea.

Sometimes, I find myself deliberately trying not to love our little dog, Fancy, too much, because I'm afraid she'll die and I won't be able to handle it. Then, I find myself deliberately trying to love her even more, because I'm afraid she'll die and I won't be able to handle it.

Sometimes, when I daydream, I plan my own funeral. I know all the music that my choir would perform, and who would sing the solos. It will be extremely dramatic and powerful. And I know exactly which people should eulogize me, who I know I can trust to strike just the right chord of humor and dignity. Many, many people will attend, and everyone will cry and cry. It's going to be fabulous.

Sometimes, I look at gorgeous bathrooms in magazines, rooms with huge, luxurious tubs with jacuzzis surrounded by candles, and while part of me desperately wishes that I had such a room, another part of me is afraid of them, because I already spend way too much time soaking in our plain jane old tub, and I think that if I had some kind of amazing bathroom sanctuary, I might never come out of there.

Sometimes, late at night, I sneak into Jude's room, kneel down next to his bed, bury my face deep into his neck and inhale. I'll just kneel there, smelling him for a rather long time.

Sometimes, I know that I will continue to sneak in and smell my boy until he is a grown up man, which I realize could possibly be considered creepy. I hope that he doesn't wake up and catch me and I am forced to pay for years of therapy to help him overcome this trauma.

Sometimes, I absolutely do not want to go to my choir rehearsal. It's late and I'm tired and I have to get up early the next morning and yada, yada, yada. But then I always force myself to go, I draaaaaaag my butt down there. And I'm ALWAYS glad I went because I love it. But then the next week I have completely wiped this knowledge from my memory and do not want to go to my choir rehearsal again.

Sometimes, I'm mortified that Jude will someday find out about all of the many naughty things I did in my ill-spent youth.

Sometimes, I think I was born to the wrong life. I would have done veeeeery well with more wealth and privilege.

Sometimes, I dream about moving to a peaceful place, some quiet, idyllic seaside town, far away from the hustle and bustle. But then I remember that quiet and idyllic bore the hell out of me.

Sometimes, I miss my parents so much that I close my eyes and try to remember exactly how their skin felt, what it felt like to hold each of their hands, their smells, the sound of their voices. And I can. And then I wonder if Jude will some day do the same with my memory, and I hope that my touch and smell are pleasant things to remember.

Sometimes, I go shopping for clothes, making my way around the store, gathering an armload of stuff I want to try on. But when I get into the dressing room, I realize that every single garment I chose, would have looked good on my body 15 years ago, but nowadays? Mmmm...no. I just can't seem to train myself to shop for clothing that is appropriate for my new age and size.

Sometimes, when Jude is doing something particularly good and saintlike, I worry that maybe he should do something really awful really quick, because if he's too virtuous God might take him from me, like those children who die young and become little angels. I realize that this is in no way rational.

Sometimes, I think I should stop hosting The Spin Cycle because I just don't have the time or energy to work at making it grow. I'm just not a "go-getter". But then I find a spin that I really love, like this "Sometimes" spin, inspired by the amazing Arnebya, and I decide that I love it and will never give it up.

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Sometimes, you MUST go and check out all the other "Sometimes" spins!!

Janice at I Got Nothing

Scriptor at Incognitus Scriptor

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Arnebya at What Now and Why? -INSPIRED BY HER OWN SELF!

Suzicate at The Water Witch's Daughter

Kendra at Life in the slow lane

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Why...?

Inspired by Vandy J's "Why?" section of her "Sometimes" post this week, which was inspired by Arnebya's post...are you following me here? As I said last week about Arnebya, if you don't read Vandy, you SHOULD. I'm very excited because in a couple of weeks I get to actually meet and hang out with Vandy in real life! Aren't you jealous? Check out Vandy's "why?" post HERE. Then make it your own.

 Write it, post it, let me know, I'll link it!

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Spin Cycle: Love

I have a confession to make.

Throughout my life,  I have heard the following bible passage over and over and thought it was a load of bull...

1 Corinthians, 13:4-13...

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me.  For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yada, yada, yada," I've said to myself, rolling my eyes, at wedding after wedding.

Love fails constantly. In fact, according to marriage statistics, it fails the majority of the time. I see relationship after relationship that devolves over time into something without patience or kindness, and filled with envy and pride. And what the hell did St. Paul know about such things anyway, wandering around barefooted proselytizing or writing from his prison cell?

But a couple of Sundays ago, 1 Corinthians: 13 was the reading at church, and for the first time, I really heard it, and understood it.

I think this is because I have finally reached an age when I have "put the ways of childhood behind me". And have come to a point in my life when I realize that the love which Paul was talking about was not a noun, but a verb. The act of loving. The deliberate choice to actively love someone. The choice to be loving, and to perform loving actions, even when your husband is a jackass. Or your child is a pain in the butt.

And it's a really hard thing to do. To love. It's something that I have been unable to do for long periods throughout my life. I may have been "in love". Often "in lust". But to love as an action verb? That's tough. It involves giving up a big chunk of ego. It involves looking at the greater good. It involves finding the good in small things, and not expecting the grand gesture.

Love is being patient, love is being kind. It is not being envious, it is not boasting, it is not being proud. It is not dishonoring others, it is not being self-seeking, it is not getting angry, it is keeping no record of wrongs. Love is not delighting in evil but rejoicing with the truth. It is protecting, always trusting, always hoping, always persevering.

I finally get it. In the past, if Jimmy was being a jerk, I would not be kind, but get angry, and self-righteous, prideful and envious. And the love would go away. But now, having made the choice to actively love,  if he's a jerk, I tell him he's being nasty, then kiss him on the forehead and tell him I love him even if he's an asshole. And you know what? He stops being a jerk, and apologizes. And then he is actively loving to me. Our active loving of each other resonates and evolves. We find we are protecting, trusting, hoping and...persevering.

Taped on a cabinet in the kitchen, I have a quote from the Dalai Lama, which a friend of mine shared a while back on Facebook. It is as follows...

Even more important than the warmth and affection we receive, is the warmth and affection we give. It is by giving warmth and affection, by having a genuine sense of concern for others, in other words through compassion, that we gain the conditions for genuine happiness. More important than being loved, therefore, is to love.

So there you have it. St. Paul. The Dalai Lama. Two pretty smart dudes, saying basically the same thing. I'm glad I've lived long enough to come to understand a thing or two. Man, by the time I'm 80, I'll be fricking enlightened.

But just so y'all don't think that I've lost all of my cynicism, I will close with this less idealistic, but equally true quote...

"Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra, and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." - Matt Groening

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Love, love love...

Go check out the other love Spinners!!!

CaJoh at Ca-Joh

Vandy J at The Testosterone Three and Me

Kendra at Life in the slow lane - SEVEN POSTS on LOVE!

Nain at View From Down Here - NEW on FRIDAY!

Ginny Marie at Lemon Drop Pie - NEW on FRIDAY!

Janice at I Got Nothing - NEW on FRIDAY!

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Next week on The Spin Cycle...

Dream Vacation

I don't know about y'all, but I REALLY need a vacation. A real vacation. Not visiting Jimmy's parents, or going on a Cub Scout campout. It should involve a pool, and some fruity alcoholic beverages. And maid service. And a spa. And since this is most likely NOT going to happen anytime soon, I think it might be a good idea to take a little dream vacation.

So please, share your dream vacation. Where do you want to go? Who do you want to go with? The whole family? Just you and your significant other? Or perhaps, blissfully alone?

Do you crave beaches? Mountaintops? City lights? A silent retreat in a faraway cloister?

Write it up. Post it. Let me know, I'll link it!

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