The Green Room

9:27pm: harder than I thought
For a long time I had planned to make myself a study/office/guest room in Jon's old room. This required sorting out the treasures, painting, re-arranging, etc., while still leaving it hospitable for those rare occasions when he's home. For some reason (laziness above all, but something beyond that) I have avoided this task, even when there's been time in the day to work on it. Finally, there was no excuse. Not only did I have some fallow time, but the school/financial and personal paperwork had risen to flood levels around the house. So, I made a plan, picked out some put-it-together-yourself furniture, and began. But it's very, very hard to sort through and box up the things of Jon's that are in that room. I asked him if he wanted things, but he, too, is trying to thin down his possessions. Nonetheless, treasures of a lifetime can't be thrown away willy-nilly. They must be sorted, considered, organized, and--if they merit it--re-settled elsewhere. Today, in between some work I had to do for Joe, I sat in that room, awash in sentimentality. Feelings have arisen, unbidden, mostly happy, but a few bittersweet. My sense of loss that he was gone to Buxton for the last two years of high school was suddenly irreparable. As wonderful as it was, it wasn't home, and for that there is no cure. And saddest of all is that he really doesn't need that to be his room any more. When he does come, he comes as a brief guest. This is good, I know, but it doesn't make it easier.

In any case, I plan to make the room so inviting that he'll want to stay there, as will I. This, then, is a plan!

12:52pm: finding it hard to say goodbye
"Play by Play" is winding down, with three more performances left. My heart is breaking. Usually I don't feel this way--once we're through with the rehearsal process, I enjoy the performances, but am relatively willing to let them go when the run is over. But this time, I sit backstage after the last of the plays I'm in, and feel like crying. This one struck me in a deep place, and I couldn't tell you why. And I feel a tremendous attachment to my fellow actors. But I'm trying to hold onto these last three performances, and draw all the sustenance from them that I can. *sigh*

12:16am: Whew! oh, my!
Changes abounding.
Joe's finally all moved in--1/2 in the new studio and 1/2 at home. Whew!
I've taught my last classes. Now my sub takes over for the last two weeks, and I only have to watch the final scenes and grade them. Whew!
The registrar wrote to say Jon's graduation letter will be here next week. Whew!
Joe's exhibit came down, but it was so popular (he sold 6 pictures) that they put the rest of them on easels downstairs for another month. Whew!
I start rehearsals for Play by Play on Tuesday--5 short plays out of 8. Oh, my!
Joe'll head to the Cape house in a few weeks to get things started for the season. Our own house! Oh, my!
Shortly after that, he'll head to B'more to help Jon pack and move. Oh, my!
Two birthdays this week--Joe's on Monday and Dora's on Thursday. Oh, my!
Bintel Brief is going back into rehearsal, but I won't be there for the performance. Oh, my!

When all the oh, my's are turned into whew's, our current hurdles will be crossed.....

9:09pm: movin along
So after my first visceral reaction to Joe's new space at Cap Rep (deep misery), I decided that we just had no choice except to make it as wonderful as it could be. The old studio is gone, so there's no point in trying to reclaim it. So we set to work. When we started, the space was piled high with leftover props and set pieces, and lined on all four walls with discarded desks and file cabinets. There was a filthy carpet (well, the whole place was filthy from many years of neglect and disuse) as well as some grim-looking light blue (at one time, at least) verticals on the four windows. The place was painted all over a kind of sick camel color, slopped on all the window frames and dripped everywhere, except for the 14-ft ceiling, which was peeling badly. There were two ancient radiators that were attached to pipes, but no longer connected to a working boiler. So that was the space. It is in one corner of Cap Rep's rehearsal hall, which has a green room and a men's and women's bathroom--each with lovely cold water. Then there is the education office, which is across the rehearsal room on the other side, and off to one end is a hallway which has a few more storerooms and the sound designer's office. We know and love all the people there.

When we started to work, the theater crews had removed all the furniture and props. We ripped up the carpet and removed the verticals on the windows. Also, Chris came and disconnected the radiators, which are beyond heavy. We have gotten them as far out of the room as the outer hallway. We'll get someone to cart them away. Then we scraped the whole room, which took about 8 hours. We painted three of the walls a very light taupe, with all the trim and nice crisp, shiny white--which Joe also painted the ceiling. Then we painted the window wall a gorgeous dark green (sort of sagey green-grey, beautiful!). Set off against this is the lovely white trim on all the windows. Also, there is glass brick above the windows on two walls, which, when cleaned, is really yummy. We painted the doors green, too, and Joe built a wall into the room which now leads to this dinky, depressing closet we get with the space. So it's suddenly self-contained and beautifully painted. Then, we had carpet installed, which is a kind of industrial tweed that brings out all the colors we've used. We had a piece bound which we fitted in the newly painted closet, which now looks much better. We got lovely translucent white pleated shades made, which fit snugly into all the windows. And we washed and scrubbed the windows and glass brick.

You wouldn't believe it! It's cheery, bright, crisp, and by far the best space in the whole 4-story building. We're going to begin bringing stuff from the studio now, and rehearsals start right outside the door next Tuesday. So we'll move in on the following Monday (the dark day) and then be able to work at our own pace within the place. We will then pack up the mountains of stuff that remains, and get a movers to bring it to our house (all the framing materials and print storage). We already painted and set up the basement (mostly taking out Jon's old train set, which took up half the cellar and which never really got used). So that'll be the next step. We're bringing many of the cabinets and counter tops, etc., from the studio renovation we did last summer to the new space, and will also try to have Chris install the hot water heater, etc, from the darkroom into the bathrooms in the rehearsal hall. Good for all of us to have hot running water!

So, in the end, the move is going well, and I am no longer depressed about it.

The gallery opening was a smash, and people love Joe's pix. So I'm pretty glad. I'm almost done with school, since I'll be starting rehearsals at StageWorks--something I've not thought about AT ALL. And Saturday April 8 I have an audition for a theater I've always wanted to work at in Vermont. They contacted me. Amazing.

And Jon has been cleared to GRADUATE (after a month of my pestering them in a variety of ways). So all is well.....

10:03am: Opening Today!
Killer month, cont.
So Joe went over to the gallery, after they had hung the 2-person show. He was gone for maybe an hour, but when he came home his face had gone completely white. He looked as if he'd be sick right on the spot. Clearly, he was terribly shaken. He felt as though he had been betrayed, or at least misunderstood, by people he really likes and has trusted. I decided I'd go over. I understood at once what was upsetting him. The other photographer--a lovely man, a friend--had pictures that were huge, poster sized, vividly colored and overwhelming. Joe's photos--the ones they had chosen--were mostly small, black-and-white and quiet. Instead of grouping them by sequences, as he had envisioned and planned, they were scattered about, tucked in between these huge bold images. A typical example--a tiny, spooky, black-and-white scene on a Bronx bus, with ominous shadows, was slipped in between two large, traditional photo landscapes. He was heartbroken. Many of these images he had been collecting and planning to exhibit for 20 years. And here they were, set up willy-nilly without context. Also, there is a "front" wall (which you see as you walk in) and a "back wall" which is on the other side, and the exhibitors flipped a coin to see who would have the front wall. Naturally, Joe lost that draw, too. So the effect was that he was the extra guy, whose stuff had been brought in to fill up the spaces left by the other photographer. Perhaps I should have kept my mouth shut, but I started making noises like a wife, and the gallery owner, who loves Joe and his work, was devastated. We talked, negotiated, planned, and he finally told me he needed some bigger pictures from Joe. The upshot was that I took one to be reframed, and told Joe to redo another with a larger border mat. Yesterday I went in, and we rearranged some pictures, put the big, bolder ones up in strategic places, and the result is that--although it doesn't cure the problem completely--it makes the two photographers have equal weight. In the meantime, Joe went to see the Photo Regional exhibit, which is usually a forum for all area photographers to submit work, from which many are chosen. Joe has been in about 15 regionals. But this year, they decided to have it be an invitational. And they invited "the 18 top photographers in the area," as they said. Joe was so obviously excluded that he couldn't help but feel hurt. So yesterday he went to see the show. He found it--with about 7 or 8 exceptions--dead, lifeless, intellectual, etc. He walked out of there vastly relieved, and ready to be happy about his own show.

So today is the opening. I think it might actually be fun. I also think many, many people will come (or at least I hope so). Fingers crossed.

On the exasperating topic of Goucher, I've been negotiating with Nick Brown, the humorless, self-important department chair. He says Jon can take a summer course elsewhere, and be done. Jon is naturally resistant: he followed their directions, and ended up screwed. He feels they dealt with him in bad faith, and he has no reason to trust them now. But if that's what he does decide to do, I will get--in writing--a document stating unequivocally that this is the very last time they move the goal posts. If he passes the course, he's done with them forever. Also, I talked with a bunch of different people at SUNY and elsewhere (including Wayne State, where my friend's husband is a Dean) and that all said said this happens ALL THE TIME. Another friend, also at SUNY, decided to take one graduate course in addition to his final undergraduate classes, just to get a jump on his graduate work, which he plans to start next year. The result? They pulled ALL his financial aid. He said it took him 3 months to straighten out, but he had to pony up the money in advance of that (which required a bank loan). So I guess it's nothing personal, Jon, if you're reading this. Just a simple case of FEMA-like incompetence from people who don't have to answer to anyone.

That's it for today folks. It was supposed to snow, but it looks nice out there and the sun is shining.
Wish us luck today.

9:33am: *sigh*
This month has been exhausting. The closing took place on the building where Joe's had his studio for more than 15 years, and almost overnight--although the tenants still remain in it--the place took on the look of a ghost town. The lights in the hallways began to go dark, the parking lot is being dug up, the heat is gone from the halls (and it's been bone-chilling outside) and packing boxes are sprouting in every corner. Talk about depressing. We've been unable to do much, because Joe's been uncharacteristically busy, with call after call and deadline after deadline. As well, he has an exhibition, "Double Vision" which opens next Saturday. So we've had to print, mount and frame pictures in between. I've been only intermittently helpful, because I have classes all day Monday, Wednesday and Friday. And what classes they are, too: two groups of disinterested students, whose demeanor ranges from the absolute blank, to the bored and hung-over, to the hyper "why can't we have fun all the time" Middle School variety. *sigh* So we've been dragging ourselves home night after night, exhausted. There is a pile of paperwork on the table that is mounting, with no time to deal with it (mostly endless communication from the estate lawyers, who will not be finished with their work until I'm dead and buried). We're also fixing up and painting the basement, partly because we will no doubt be bringing home studio stuff to put there.

Yesterday, to top things off, we had a cryptic message from the Registrar at Goucher, whom I've been bugging for a graduation letter for Jon since early January. Apparently, at Goucher, when dealing with something as inconsequential as the lives and futures of their students, they like to operate at a nice, leisurely pace. So there's been no action on his file for two months. But yesterday's phone call said there was a "discrepancy" in his major (she gave the wrong major, natch!), and he had to call right away. They have, it seems, moved the goal posts yet again, and are demanding that he take yet another PS course before they will bestow him their honored diploma. Jon is furious, and we are, too. Here it is, mid-March, with the semester half gone. He was assured by his actual advisor that he had all the requisite courses and credits for graduation. If they haven't made a paperwork error (the wrong major and also the wrong advisor--someone who didn't even know him), there's no chance of his taking the course this semester. They have no summer school, and there's no way he'll go back for yet a SIXTH year to that place. (While we've been waiting for them to get their act together to acknowledge that he'd graduated, he's been joking that they were delaying because they were busy searching for a way to charge him yet more money. Apparently, he wasn't far from the mark). The irony to me is the line on their web site, asking "Why are Goucher students so happy?" Beats me..... As parents, we have received nothing from Goucher for at least two years (except bills, of course, and the occasional letter asking for donations). When we do try to call the school, we never get to talk to an actual person, but rather get a recording with the voice of some breathless little girl, asking us to leave a message. I teach at a public university with 25,000 students, and somehow or other the advisors, department chairs and administration manage to keep the students on track vis a vis requirements, and keep the parents informed of something besides the balance due. But this is too much to ask from a tiny school like Goucher.


We'll deal with that this coming week. Up until now, at Jon's request, we have kept a very low profile with Goucher. But over $100,000 and five years later, we've had enough. Jon sent me a three-part email exchange he'd received from the school, and the lack of knowledge it reveals was just stunning. Who are they, anyway, FEMA?

Anyway, today is Saturday, the sun is shining, it's warm and bright, and I'm determined to be happy. So smile, everyone!

9:52am: Fresh start
Lots of changes feel as though they are hovering in the wings. It's scary, though I hope the changes are good ones. Among the biggest harbingers of change are Jon's finishing college and Joe's almost definitely losing his studio space. Both of these events have been in the making for about the same length of time: 17 years! Joe got his space roughly the same time as Jon started school, and both became a kind of way of life. Now that era is drawing to a close, and Jon looks forward to a beginning. Joe, on the other hand, wants to avoid looking at an end. I'm on the sidelines, never having done anything particularly eventful with my chances, except to love and support them both. If things go well for them, they will go well for me. We're tinkering with the idea of selling this house and moving to another, in town, that has space for a studio. Or, alternatively, Joe could find a very small space to rent for studio space, and work here at home. Then maybe we could find a room somewhere in New York to stay in. We plan to spend as much time in the summers as possible at the Cape, but that will probably turn out to be a gradual affair. When I get frustrated with this house I think it would be fun to move, but then I look around and get very sentimental about the place. It's quiet and comfortable, if small, and 99% paid for. But then it's just the two of us most of the time. What do we need a bigger place for, anyhow? Having a studio space that was at our house would certainly simplify matters, and cut down on bills. But it would have to be the perfect place; and what's that, anyway? So we'll do some looking and lots of thinking...

As for Jon, it's really none of our business, even though it's of compelling interest to us what he comes up with. We talked about it the other night, over a Vietnamese dinner, and Joe said that if he were the one in that position, he'd take a month off and go volunteer in New Orleans. That would clear the head--help to wipe the dread Goucher out of the brain--and be a good basis for thinking about the future. Certainly, a hiatus of some sort is necessary, and might be best in a setting entirely different from the workaday world of the recent past. Jon's going to come home sometime in the near future, and we can talk it out then.

Then there's the country, of course, which has to change or it'll explode. Some days, one gets the sense that the corner is turning. People are slowing waking up from the coma that they passed into on 9/11. This team of cold-hearted, amoral and greedy thugs who shepharded us around during our long sleep had pretty much a free hand. Now, there are rustlings of revolt. I don't know if I feel that because I read the progressive press (commondreams.org being the chief source), or if it's really happening. When I read the unscientific polls on AOL, a mainstream sampling if there ever was one, it seems that people are getting fed up. There's hope in this. If the Administration is stymied in its plans, at least we can forstall some of the worst effects. Because three years is a long time to wait to throw the bums out. And they are doing quiet, under-the-radar damage every day. Just last week, when Congress was recessed, the Pentagon quietly replaced three of the Joint Chiefs in the order of succession (in the event of a doomsday scenario) with three undersecretaries who are Rumsfeld-Cheney allies. And Bush just nominated four partisan warriors to the Election Commission--people who were partly responsible for the worst election abuses in 2000 and 2004. They've been talking to Turkey about aid and assistance in mounting an air attack against Iranian nuclear sites. So, unchecked, they can continue to do dreadful damage to our democracy. If the public is waking up, let it be now. Please....

My wish, then, for the New Year, is that the fresh taste in the wind be positive, and lead us, our family and our country in a positive, hopeful direction. Blessings, peace (though not quiet!) and hope for the new year.

1:07pm: I Couldn't Take It With Me.....
The show is winding down....4 more performances and we're done. I know that the others in the play will be glad to see it done, and I won't miss the schedule too much. But I will miss the show. It's been a very gratifying experience, and no matter how I feel at the start of each performance, by the end I'm exalted and flushed with high excitement. Certainly teaching Acting 1 is not going to do that for me. And, as with all shows I do, there's always the nagging feeling that I'll never work again. In comparison to the real suffering of so many others, this is a small change kind of concern. But it still is there, always in the background.

We need to think about the holidays, such as they will be this year. I plan to suck it in and clean the house, including washing curtains and shampooing rugs. It's long overdue, and might make it feel more holiday-ish. I'll bake some, and cook some, and so forth. But somehow, it's going to be a lonely one. Laurel was going to come on Saturday, see the last show, and stay the better part of a week. But a few days in Washington, DC during a "cold" snap, made her regret her hasty decision. So she called and cancelled. She'll go to Boca and get the place ready for Aunt Mickey, who will be taking possession for the season early next week. I think Laurel and I will let the place go, because it's too expensive to keep it if we can't use it alot, and if we don't have plans to really live there, it seems kind of silly. It's especially fruitless if we have to give it up for the whole prime season (as we did this year in a sentimental moment). Why pay so much money, and only get to go there during hurricane season?? She's having a big birthday on January 1st (which makes her the person who started the Baby Boomers, now that is a distinction, isn't it)? Maybe I'll head down there for a few days. School doesn't begin until the end of January, so I have some time.

Jon seems to be basically finished with his college work. I know this because I got a "yup" in reply to my text message. This is a tremendous feat, and a real relief to us all. There is still more internship work to do, but no more papers to write, etc. First time in 17-1/2 years. Now that's something....! Congratulations, Jon. I'm very proud.

That's it for now. Happy holidays to everyone, and keep your heads up in the coming year.

3:24pm: running (in place)
Well, Thanksgiving is over and we are into the run of the show. This one feels like a marathon to me, more than many I've done in the past. We have 9-show weeks from now until we close December 19th, and it takes energy that I have to find somewhere. Some of my fatigue may just be the result of opening week, combined with Thanksgiving. Jon was here (I guess) and got tired and then left. He did come to the opening of the show (a lively, appreciative audience), we did do some shopping together for him and others, and we did have our Thanksgiving meal together, but somehow we didn't connect. It wasn't the usual touchy-feely visit: he was preoccupied and distracted, and I was gone much of the time. I guess the time does come when our kids come to think of their home as the real home, and ours as the duty visit We still think of this place as home, but at some point they stop doing so. I know I felt that way myself at a certain point, so I shouldn't be surprised. But it's some kind of marker that I don't have the energy to cross at this particular moment.

Laurel is coming to visit the last weekend of the show, and will stay until December 21st. I hope we get to have girl fun. Haven't had much of that lately. This year has been one of all-giving-all-the-time and not getting much back in the way of small pleasures. So I'll look forward to that.

8:52pm: tech starts tomorrow
Well, after two weeks of rehearsal for "You Can't Take It With You," we move into tech tomorrow. It's been a fun process, with a terrific group of people who are like the big kooky family of the play. We all get along, and there are no prima donnas in the bunch. Some very funny stuff, too, and boy, do we need an audience to let us know if we are bombing or succeeding. Even after two weeks, we are used to the funny bits, and don't laugh any more. Hopefully, it'll be fresh to the audience.

Jon is coming home for Thanksgiving, and will be able to come to opening night (the night before Thanksgiving). He's been in the play, and been involved in a second production of it, so it'll be nice to hear his reaction. I have fond memories of his playing Ed, and having his director (who will remain nameless) telling him to "sneak" onstage, because she couldn't figure out how to get him on. We don't have that problem.

Anyway, I'd better head into bed. We rehearse for 10 hours tomorrow.

10:17pm: bumbling along
Mostly wanted to have a chance to post a new picture of Dora, so that Zoey and Blake can visit via LJ.
Haven't been too busy. I'm doing a reading of a hilarious movie script next week, and getting called back to do a 2-minute (!) improv audition for an Independent feature film. Rehearsals for You Can't Take It With You start on the 25th of October, and in between we're heading to Florida to get the place ready. (Not for us, but for the rental). But fall is here, and I'm enjoying it. Dora, too. She's chasing leaves with all her might.

6:16pm: Big Changes
Well, mom is gone. It's been such an extraordinary time that I don't know where to begin. I guess at the beginning. Mom was hospitalized on the 19th of August, because when I visited her earlier that week I was alarmed at her condition, and thought there was a great possibility she would starve to death. I called the medical team--for the first time in her three year illness--and made a huge amount of noise, until they finally agreed to admit her to the hospital, even though they thought I was overreacting. She never left again. They gave her IV food and water for several days, and then decided to put in a stent so she could eat on her own. I arrived back in FL on Wednesday the 24th, just in time for that procedure. She did okay with it, but began at that point to fail.

I went home that first night, but realized that the hurricane was coming, and we would be evacuated from her beachfront condo. So Thursday morning I packed up, battened down the hatches, filled a small cooler with an egg salad sandwich, 1/2 a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and 2 yogurts, did some paperwork, grabbed her rings and important papers, and left for Miami.

The hurricane hit directly at Miami, and all the power in the city went out. The hospital began to operate on generator power, the rain and wind began in earnest, and mom got sicker. She developed pneumonia, and her kidneys stopped working. I never left after that; I sat in the recliner by her bed, and tried to sleep over the next two days and nights. I portioned out the food I'd brought over the next two days and nights, because there was nothing to be had in or around the hospital. Mom was agitated the first night, so they gave her a sleeping pill. This caused her to start hallucinating, and talking to herself in the most alarming way. She spent the next 48 hours talking non-stop. The words were quiet and indistinct, but I got some bits. She sang children's songs, prepared and ate whole meals, chose clothes from her closets, remembered people she hadn't seen in years, laughed, planned things, worried over her plants, told jokes, talked to people that weren't there, etc. By the end of the second night I was feeling very much alone indeed. I talked by cell to Laurel and Joe, but knew they couldn't come because of the storm. On Friday late afternoon, her roommate left--a lovely Cuban woman named Ana, who said upon leaving, "I pray for you Helen." Joe flew down to Orlando, in preparation to drive to Ft. Lauderdale with Laurel on Saturday. We arranged flights for Laurel's daughter Lisa and her 10-year-old daughter Brianna as well as for Jonathan.

I woke up from a fitful sleep on Saturday, looked at mom, and knew her last day had arrived. I called my sister as early as I decently could, about 6:45am, and said, "come now. Get your things together and just come." She woke up Joe, and they packed up food and left. They arrived first, about 1pm, and then the others came in shifts. Someone always went to get them at the airport. As each new person arrived, mom rallied to greet them, showing particular joy at the sight of Brianna. When all had been seen, we told the doctor to go ahead with the morphine drip (which the nurse did with great slamming and sullenness--she obviously disapproved)because mom couldn't breathe and was terrified, and they wouldn't be able to help her any more. Then we hunkered down to watch with her. We took turns sitting with her, talking, holding her hands, sleeping--draped all over the room, wrapped in sheets because it was so cold--etc. At about 6:45am, I woke from a short nap and knew it was a matter of minutes. I woke up Laurel and Lisa, and we sat by her till the end, at about 7:10am.

The nurses were wonderful. Everyone went back to the condo, except Laurel and I who had to wait for paperwork. We called the funeral guy, and realized that here it was Sunday, and we had to plan and deliver a funeral in Albany on Wednesday morning. Mom wouldn't be there to run the show. It had to be me.

We did a variety of trips to the airport, as people left one by one. At one point, the manager of the condo showed up with the security guy, who was holding police tape. They planned to kick us out that minute and seal the place up, since they didn't have the appropriate paperwork on file. We called the attorney, who straightened things out, but it was pretty scary. Then we came home, arriving in Albany on Monday evening. We set to work: the obit for the paper, the food, the flowers, the cantor (my cousin), the eulogies--3; mine, a woman who had worked in mom's store for 20 years, and Brianna, who insisted on speaking--the millions and millions of calls to make, cleaning the house and making ready for 40 people. All in one day. I had to do things in the particular way that would make mom happy (although, to be frank, thoughout her whole illness she had so denied that anything was wrong or that she might die that she had never expressed a single wish). And I had to do it without her help.

The service and gathering at the house were wonderful. The guests were caring, non-judgmental, and pleased to be there. Jonathan and Joe were extraordinarily helpful, sweet and quietly effective. The speeches went well. The food was gorgeous and tasty, and people ate a lot. The only moment of reality was at the burial when I shoveled dirt down onto the casket. This made a sound that struck me deep in the solar plexis. Lori explained that the shoveling of dirt is a mitzvah (a good deed), but one that the recipient can never do for you. Therefore it is the ultimate mitzvah, one done without hope of repayment. Mom and dad share a headstone, so this was also a visit to Dad's grave. We put stones on the grave to show we've visited, and sweet Joe brought a dish of stones gathered at Truro and Boca--the two places that they loved the best.

People stayed a long time at the house, and drifted away slowly. Jon had to leave--he'd missed his first day of school--which was heart-wrenching. I was very, very proud of him, as was Joe. He showed himself to be a mensch, and I was glad.

The next day, Laurel and I had to hop back on a plane and head back to Boca. We met with the lawyer, and then spent the next three days cleaning and sorting the apartment--throwing away food, giving away plants, dealing with drawers and closets full of clothes (all size zero), canceling newspapers, magazines, and accounts, returning overdue books, etc., etc., etc. It was grueling, but fun. We looked often at the sea, but never took a minute to go out to it. We were utterly exhausted when we left. I arrived home at 11:00pm last night. I was ecstatic to see Joe and Dora--who is more adorable and loving than ever--and to be home in my own house in a normal way.

So, now I'm an orphan. I don't know what the next time of our lives will be like, but it will be different. Mom was a brave, plucky woman, but a very, very strong personality who ruled my psyche in many ways. Helping her toward a peaceful, and not fearful death, and successfully managing her funeral was a big, maturing experience for me. My sadness, which has had no time time appear, will no doubt come to me now. But I feel ready.

1:16pm: restored to life
Well, our nursing seems to have helped enormously. Our sweet kittie has a bit of her old (young) self back. She's eating, lustily, and purring around, chasing ants on the deck, and generally seeming more normal. We are bathed in relief. Now we're thinking of restoring her original name (since she's showing signs of being restored to her original personality. Thus: Pandora (but called Dora). It suits her again, though it hasn't while she's been ailing.

Yesterday was tough, but today it feels more better.

9:07pm: Lulu
Lulu is now sick. She is lying there, very quiet and dull. We've been feeding her with an eye-dropper, as the cat ladies suggested, and we'll see what happens. We are both pretty upset, losing one kittie today and now nursing another. I will keep you updated.

10:47am: In memorium
Poor little Archie had a short life. He was really sort of sick from the moment he came home, and yesterday we took him to our vet. She said he had a serious viral infection, which might be distemper. She wanted to keep him over the weekend, but told us that no one would be there--she'd only stop in to check from time to time. There was a 50-75% chance, she said, that he wouldn't make it anyway. I called the people at Purrfect Companions, where we had gotten him, and they said to take him to their vet. I drove him madly to Catskill, along with Lulu, and the place was really rough and ready. The vet was dismissive of Dr. O'Laughlin's suggestions, and he gave him more hydration and some antibiotics (roughly). Then he sent him home with us. Archie seemed to rally last night, being frisky and playful and hungry. But this morning, he was sick again, and searched for a place to hide. Finally he wedged beneath the back of the sofa against the wall, and died-on his own, as cats like to do. Lulu seems to be healthy, but she is a bit lost and confused. We'll treat her as well, but can't bring another kitty into the house to keep her company, because of the viral germs around here. The whole thing is very, very sad and discouraging. Archie was utterly lovely, funny and sweet, and now he's gone.

8:26pm: new kitzens
Here they are! Archie is the marmalade colored fella, and Pandora (Dora or Pandy for short) is the money cat (lots of black and orange spots on her back).

4:26pm: kitzens!
We did it! We went back to Petco and got new kitties. A girl (a money cat) and a boy (a marmalade-colored cat). They are sooo cute. We are thinking of calling them Archie and Pandora. Brother and sister in my favorite book, "September." Plus Archie from the comics is a redhead. And Dora (a good nickname for Pandora) was David Copperfield's child-wife.

Pictures to follow.

12:06pm: background
So I'm sitting in an elementary school library in Saratoga Springs, "working" as background on a Dodge commercial. This required getting up at 5:30am, and driving here for a 7:30am call. So far, they haven't used us at all. I didn't bring a book, though it is a library, so I found Huckleberry Finn. I guess I'll read that, now that we've all talked about whatever it is we've got to say. It's very hot and muggy outside, but freezing in the library. I hope they use us soon, or at least call for lunch. I get paid no matter what. Today I'm called as a "neighbor," and Thursday there'll be a large group in a restaurant in Brant Lake (1-1/2 hours from home). Then we'll be restaurant patrons, having been fishing. I hope the call is a bit later, since the drive is so long, but I'm not holding out any hope.

Anyway, that's how you make a buck, I guess.

8:45pm: plumbing
So it's Saturday night, and I'm sitting in the living room listening to Joe trying to unclog the pipes--a diggy, cringe-inducing sound. He cut all the pipes under the sink, and really doesn't know how to fix them, so it looks like another three or four days without washing dishes in the house. And all around the cellar, wherever he has opened traps, there is black sludgy mud in wastebaskets and sliming around the floor near them. So Saturday is pretty much over, in terms of a fun day. We spent the morning at a funeral of his cousin, which was sad, and then I was looking in the paper for the obit and found that a friend of mine, an actress (aged 45) died yesterday, leaving two very young adopted children and a heart-breaker ex-husband. Really, really sad. Mom is doing very poorly too. She seems to have reached a turning point, and I believe it will be very hard from here to the end. So I guess I'll have to stop weighing down my mind worrying about the news of the world, and worry about the news closer to home. My mind can't absorb more worry than that at one time.

I'm doing extra work in a SAG national commercial for Dodge--Tuesday and Thursday. This is a good thing, in the midst of all this bad stuff. And Joe is working Tuesday, Wednesday (2 jobs, one from 11pm-2am), Thursday and Friday, after a long dead spell. The studio is in mid-renovation, so we're going in tomorrow to put cabinets together and try to get as much done as we can in anticipation of this busy period. I will stay calm, I will stay calm.

11:36pm: fixin up
We've been working like beavers in the studio (except for yesterday, when we went to NYC for the day--me to do a reading and Joe to wander about taking cool photos of shadows). We're tearing the place apart limb from limb to make it nice, finally (only about 15 years later than we planned). First we did the darkroom, which Joe rarely uses, painting it, and re-arranging to make it also into a storeroom. We were able to accommodate 4 filing cabinets, which substantially cleared away the center room. Next, we bought and put together two huge white armoire cabinets, which we installed on the back walls of the studio (on either side of the hanging backdrop). These are now filled up with all the junk that was lying in piles along the back--both photo and lighting equipment. Next, we're going to tear apart the counters in the center workroom, and stack all the junk neatly in the studio. We will order, and built cabinets, both top and bottom ones along two of the walls, and have a nice counter built that runs all around the area. We're putting in a sink and there'll be a kitchen area, which will free up a corner of the outer room. Maybe Jon will be able to use the butcher block thingie we're using now in his kitchen.

We went to IKEA in Paramus, on our way back from NYC, and walked around until our legs gave way (not that long--we were so bushed from a long, hot day already that it didn't take much). I'd like to get the kitchen cabinets there--partly because their stuff is so neat looking, partly because the guy who owns Home Depot is a huge Bush supporter--he raised something like $3 million for Bush--so I hate to give him the business. The problem with that plan is that Paramus is about 2-1/2 hrs away, and we'd have to figure out a way to get the stuff back with us. So maybe we'll get the cabinets at Home Depot, and then buy the other stuff at IKEA and schlep it home in Joe's wagon.

We went to Petco on Saturday to pick out a kittie, and found one we really liked. But Joe happened to mention that our cats have always been able to go outside, and they refused to allow us to adopt. Although they were overflowing with cats, and there was a parade of weirdos that they greeted happily, we were deemed unworthy of their kitties. They told us, in the most patronizing tones, to look around for a neighborhood cat to adopt. Apparently, neighborhood cats aren't as "special" as their cats, and going outside won't hurt them in the same way. We were very disappointed, and we have both thought of the solid black kittie we had chosen. *sigh* We plan to go back this Saturday. We'll see if the same cat is still there, and if the same women are running the show. If they aren't, we'll try again, and keep our mouths shut this time. Otherwise, we'll check out a shelter if we can find one.

Father's Day came and went without a peep from his highness. Apparently, Joe doesn't rate high enough on his priority list to merit a call. I did what I could to make up for it, and Joe says he doesn't mind. But it made me sad.

Well, enough for tonight. Tomorrow comes early.

4:56pm: in the run
The run is going well and poorly at the same time: terrific reviews, itty-bitty audiences. Somehow or other it, didn't get into the calendars of any papers. I don't know what caused that problem, but I think it's a major one. However, we got good reviews from every paper that came (at least the ones I've read) so that should bring in some people. It's weekend now; I hope that helps. The theater feels so cold and clammy to me when I walk in from outside, and I don't know if it does to the audiences, too.


We signed Jon's lease today, and he's going to begin to move over the weekend. Long-term moves are very difficult. Once you get the stuff you don't need moved, you then have to deal with the stuff you do need. And it's never in the place you think it should be. Jon's not the king of packers in the best of circumstances, but he insists it's useless for us to help him at this point. Anyway, I hope it goes well. I want to visit when he's moved in but Adam hasn't. The second week of June, perhaps, though he'll be working full time at that point.

Joe is sporting the hideous beginnings of a beard. It puts him in full geezer mode, something he doesn't need any help doing. He says he'll shave it off when he does his next shoot, but being a holiday weekend, nothing has been set up before 6/11. He has lots of desk and computer work, but the beard will stay through that. He just got an email about a studio shoot for a political comedy troupe. Hopefully, it'll be very soon and he'll shave off the darned thing.

The sun is out for the first time in a week. Very blissful. Maybe we'll get a kitten tomorrow!

8:03pm: Play by Play
Tech begins tomorrow. The rehearsal process was no picnic: lots of stress, a few screaming fights (not me, not me!) and loss of courage (me! me!). But we made it, I think. A weird and interesting combination of plays. These are longer than 10 minutes, mostly. Some are 15 or 16 minutes long. I'm doing four:

Cat Lady - a monologue. A 100-year-old lady is searching for her cat on a beach after having been hit by a bus.

Sorrento - an old Hollywood diva, who has had a stroke, sits in her chair drinking champagne and recalling the joyful experiences of her past life as her children sit around her hospital bed and squabble over whether to pull the plug.

Inheritance - a woman connects with a third cousin--who happens to be black--at a Washington DC coffeeshop, and it turns out he has arranged the meeting to ask for reparations for slavery.

Mere Vessels - A Christian fundamentalist ventriloquist encounter a cynical Borscht belt Jewish ventriloquist who has been booked into a benefit for the Suffer the Little Children Bible school by mistake. She and her dummy proceed to "save" his dummy.

There are four more plays, which I'll see tomorrow.

10:17am: Mayday
Moving into May. One more day of classes--tomorrow. We will see the scenes, in whatever shape they find themselves. Then, aside from having to grade all the papers and the scenes and the journals, I'll be done. Joe has to go give the exams for me, but they won't take long. Hopefully, there'll be time tomorrow to fill out the evaluation forms. Otherwise, that'll also have to be done during the exam time. Not a moment too soon; I'm sick to death of the whole thing. The bored, boring, unimaginative, unmotivated students (not all, but most); the struggle to find material for them that isn't too challenging; the nasty politics of the place; the lousy facilities; the crappy pay; the low, low rank of my position. I'll probably go back to it in the spring, but if I don't have to, I won't. If I could really do stuff, be with some students who choose to take acting, direct a project or two, have some say in something, I would probably like it better. But as it is, it's really a huge expenditure of passion and pressure for a disappointing result.

The show is quietly moving along. I like the other actors, and the material (at least right now) feels pretty luke warm to me. Maybe once it takes shape it'll be more inspiring. We have a bit longer to put it together this year, which is a good thing. The dank, freezing building where we rehearse doesn't help. It makes the process feel gloomy, as if it's being created in a dungeon.

Joe is sick; he caught Jon's flu-like illness. Maybe a doctor this week. It would be a great opportunity to give up smoking, but I don't see it happening.

Not much else today; I'm thrilled for a day off. Plan to spend some of it napping, some of it reading the paper, some of it on my lines, some of it on the house, some of it on those papers, and some of it taking a walk, some of it planting grass seed. It's already 10:30. I'll probably spend most of it not getting to any of the above. Happy May Day!

9:59pm: Jon!
He's coming home. I'm so delighted. We have hardly seen him the entire year, and even though this is only for two days, and Joe has to drive (or ride) a total of about 11 hours (his choice) to go get him, it'll be worth it just to have some quiet time together. Saturday is Passover, so we'll have a little seder for old time's sake (I've already made the soup), and then Sunday is Joe's birthday. They'll probably go look around a little bit for cars, but hopefully, it won't be the whole day. After a week of sublime weather, it's supposed to rain. But WHO CARES?

Tomorrow is my last up-close rehearsals with the students. Next week Monday is off, and Wed and Fri I have 1/2 the class each day. So that means a runthru with notes for each. Then Monday is it! Hard to believe---mostly that they will be in any shape to show these scenes. But, as with the monologues, it's pretty clear who has worked and who hasn't.

Laura, after waiting until the very last minute, is in casting hell. I've done what I could to help, but now I have to leave it up to her. I hope the cast is decent, because it's only fun if the other actors are good. And it's going to be a LONG schlep there and back. I'll need to get some help with gas money, too. Denise from Cap Rep is designing the costumes, which'll be fine. At least she's experienced and understanding.

The big meeting about the external review was quite explosive, and I talked a blue streak. I think there was much agreement about the thoughtlessness of the writing, and hopefully, these issues will be dealt with in the response. Kevin has promised that we'll get to read it before it's sent "up the chain" in the University. In the end, it could be helpful to the Department, but on the other hand, if handled poorly, could spell its demise.

On a fashion note, longish full skirts are in. I'm delighted. Finally, something that's available in stores that I can actually wear! Who knew it was even possible??

Holding my breath (not really) until Saturday a.m.

2:26pm: Spring
School is nearly over! Suddenly, when we have the biggest task of the year to accomplish, we are almost out of time. I never get the balance right: either I give them "real" material too soon, or else I give it too late (as I did this year) and they haven't got the time to get it done. If they were actually actors, they could easily accomplish what they need to in the time allotted. But since they aren't, they have no idea how to handle each step, and the final work will reveal this. Rats. Can't take time back (just like life). I've worked out a more disciplined schedule than I have the past, and hopefully, this will keep me on task and give them equal opportunities to get the work done. Also, I am experimenting with letting the other students not come to class (requiring that they rehearse during the time, instead). I suppose I'll need to say to them in advance, that if they blow the opportunity offered them, it's their own fault. We just need to take a realistic look at 3 weeks total, and at the work that needs to happen, and hopefully they'll do what they need to. EEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I got cast in StageWorks' Play by Play. I don't know whether to be happy or not. On the downside:

a)travel between Hudson and home 6 days a week is exhausting and expensive
b)the first two weeks of rehearsal overlaps with teaching, which will cut down on the extra time I could otherwise offer the students
c)the rest of the cast isn't there yet, and I don't know who they will be
d)no Sam, boo hoo

On the plus side:
a)A monologue by Israel Horovitz, specially commissioned
b)a new director who's worked with Louisville, O'Neill Center, etc.
c)6 weeks of Equity work=wages + health insurance weeks
d)hey, it's work

Today is gorgeous. We're going to do taxes, etc. Now there's a spring project.