ceebeegee: (Default)
2017-02-01 01:36 am

Little Things

 Inspired by Elizabeth's post...

Monday, I was walking from a class on the UWS to my evening job in Midtown. I was waiting to cross Columbus Avenue at that triangle just uptown of Lincoln Center. I was JUST about to dart across when the light turned red--as I stopped, I saw an elderly woman across the street go down HARD on the sidewalk. I was horrified but could not cross because there was now a shitton of traffic going past. I was waiting anxiously, catching glimpses of this woman lying on the sidewalk, and seeing people gather around her. Finally the light changed and I ran across. By now there were at least 10 people there--offering to help her up, I asked if we should call an ambulance, people were offering advice. People holding this woman's hand, saying "we're here for you." A young woman was walking past, paused, and said "you should call an ambulance. You REALLY should call an ambulance." People still standing by anxiously. Young woman walked down the sidewalk, came back and identified herself as a Physician's Assistant. She said we REALLY should call an ambulance and pretty much took it from there. Some guy in some kind of official-looking vehicle drove up and Young Woman had taken charge at that point, telling him "I'm a healthcare professional, she needs..." I finally drifted away, feeling secure this woman would be helped.

New Yorkers--we got your back. And I loved this because this applies to everyone. Iranians and Iraqis flying in to JFK--we got your back. Fuck Trump. We got your back.

Today. Walking to evening job, cross over to Fifth Avenue at 51st where there is a Banana Republic store. In the foyer is a pigeon, trapped, banging against the glass doors leading to the outside. I, and a number of other spectators notice this all at the same time. I jump forward to open up one of the three doors to encourage the bird to fly out. Another spectator does the same thing. Between the two of us we manage to keep open the three doors and the bird flies away. 

New Yorker--we got your back. Even the pigeons ;) 

Fuck Trump. We got your back. The funny thing is, the stereotype is that New Yorkers are cold and disinterested--this has never been my experience. New Yorkers take very seriously their stated values of inclusivity, liberalism. To all our friends flying into JFK from Iraq, Iran, Syria--we will not let you languish, all those . We have your back.

ceebeegee: (Default)
2016-12-19 12:48 am

2016 continues to suck

 My mother's younger sister, my godmother Jenny, is very ill--breast cancer. She's been fighting it for awhile--this isn't the first time--but my Uncle Jon thinks this is it. My mom's flying out there right after Christmas.

Jenny is awesome. She is ten years younger than my Mom--profane, a ferocious fighter and FIERCELY loyal to her family. She helped me out a ton during the situation with the Fungus--in the interest of plausible deniability I am not sure exactly what she did because she wouldn't tell me. She loves her family. She and Mom adore each other.

My other godmother, my aunt Clarissa (on Dad's side), is also sick but it's not quite so dire yet.

My favorite uncle, my Dad's twin-separated-by-19-months brother Metty, died this year. They were very close, and I loved him a lot. He was always so nice toward my mother, always asked after her. I was able to FaceTime him several times this summer/fall.

It just all sucks right now. My poor Mother--my poor Dad.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2016-11-08 01:27 am

(no subject)

 I am so effing stressed about Election Day. I had to leave one of my classes early today because I nearly passed out, I felt so nauseated.

prayingprayingpraying

I will be carrying my Anglican rosary in my pockets all day tomorrow (today, really). And doing a LOT of drinking once I get home.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2016-09-19 12:30 pm
Entry tags:

Watching Fast Times at Ridgemont High right now...

 ...there's something strange about this timeline, specifically Stacy's pregnancy. Stacy and Mark have their one date in late December (when he leaves the house and looks back, the house is covered with Christmas decorations). A week or so later (Damone says "you fall on the horse, you gotta get back on," or something like that referencing their one date) , Mark and Damone come over to swim in Stacy's pool (the scene where Brad fantasizes about Linda). Then they show Damone getting Stacy's locker open, which helps solidify her crush on him. So, the earliest they could've slept together would've been sometime in January but more likely early-mid February. But it could've been even later--when they're on her house they talk about how the school annuals (yearbooks) are coming out soon, typically an end-of-the-year occurrence. So let's say late February? I'm thinking at least 6-8 weeks before she figures out she's pregnant and books the appointment at the clinic so now we're in mid-late April. That leaves just a month (finals are the beginning of June, per Mr. Hand's note on the blackboard) for the fight between Damone and Mark, the visit to the ME's office which leads to the gradual softening between Mark and Stacy...I don't know, it just all seems a little fast.

Also January is when Spicoli and Jefferson's little brother crash the car and they make it look as though the Lincoln football team deliberately trashed the car, which leads to Jefferson destroying the Lincoln football team in the game. But--in January?  What high school has regular season football games in January? Is that a Southern California thing?

Also--why are Spicoli, Stacy and Brad's girlfriend all in the same history class? Stacy is a freshman--who knows how many times Spicoli has flunked but the girlfriend at least should be a junior.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2016-09-14 11:44 am
Entry tags:

Tibby

 So not long after Tatia died I started thinking about fostering kittens. Tibby had always done well enough with other cats in the household—Tatia hated him, but he always wanted to be friends with her, and he and Edna Mo more or less got along, so I didn’t think he’d mind. A week or so later Ryan forwarded a text to me from a friend begging for foster homes for a litter of feral kittens. I responded to this and ended up with two wee ones, a black one and a white/orange tabby mix, both boys. I named them Apple and Jack. They were tiny and terrified (I kept them in the shower at first) but gradually grew to trust me and eventually try to take over the apartment. They were PRECIOUS and tiny and very, very sweet.

 

HOWEVER. Tibby did NOT appreciate their presence. In fact he was utterly miserable. At first, when they were more timid, he hissed at them to keep them in their place but as they got bolder (and realized there were two of them and one of him) they weren’t so intimidated by him. In fact (adorably) they tried making friends with him—they would try to nudge him and reach out. He wasn’t having any of it, though, And then when they started trying to gobble his food (at one point I literally lunged for the both of them and held them in my lap—they immediately started purring--so he could eat) he went on full strike and basically just hid in the closet the entire time. And he went off his food.

 

After a few days of this I started freaking out. I told the woman who’d set up the whole fostering arrangement that she needed to find a home as quickly as possible for the babies. As adorable as they were Tibby couldn’t handle it and he was and is my priority. Alex (the woman) was kind of difficult about this. We had talked before about how to get them adopted out—we agreed it would be ideal for them go together as they had bonded, but she seemed to have left it up to me. Then in later conversations, she started digging in her heels—we had to find them a home TOGETHER. And she didn’t seem to “hear” me—at one point she suggested I put up fliers in my building advertising them and I responded “According to the bylaws of the building, I’m only allowed to have one pet, not 3” so she replied that I should advertise that I have one kitten for adoption, and then when someone comes to look at it, show them both. Uh, no, that’s really not an option. Don’t suggest things that are going to get me in trouble.

 

The weirdest thing was when she told me “there is a reason adoption places only adopt out in pairs.” Uh, what? That isn’t true at all. Both Tibby and Tatia were adopted singly. Nobody in NYC would ever have cats if that were the case! One organization (interestingly, the one from which I adopted Tibby) only lets you take home pets if they’re in pairs OR if you already have another pet (so, I could take Tibby because I already had a cat) but every other place I researched allows single adoptions. She seemed really committed to “we must have the PERFECT situation,” both of them adopted together, and I was like 1) this could mean they NEVER get adopted, and 2) I, not you, am paying the price for your insistence on the perfect instead of pragmatism. Because the babies are here with me, and it’s my cat who is miserable. It was starting to get kind of tense until a cat-parent-ex-machina fell down from the sky (a friend-of-a-friend of hers) came in to take Apple and Jack. Problem solved!

 

Or so I thought. He was certainly happier after they’d left but he still wasn’t eating. So Labor Day Saturday I took him to the vet and they immediately diagnosed the problem. Tibby had severe dental issues—his mouth looked horribleand he was mewling piteously during the examination. It was very upsetting. So they pumped him full of antibiotics and pain meds and I took him home (they couldn’t operate until a few days later). He ate a little bit during those days—the pain meds helped. When I took him back for surgery—he was terrified. They put him into a kennel and he was absolutely shaking and hyperventilating. I think he honestly thought I was going to abandon him. Oh Tibby, my sweet earnest Tibby. Never. You are my precious baby boy, my Tiberius Hotspur Spots Green, Lord Stompalot, Sir Sassafras, my precious big-pawed ‘normous boycat. I love you to pieces—always have, always will. And I’m so, so sorry—after losing Tatia, I never should’ve put you through that stress with the kittens. I’m glad I was able to help them but it was just too much for my boy. He comes first. Always.

 

He was in the hospital for a few days, and then I got to bring him home Friday evening. He was ECSTATIC. He could not stop suzzing up to me, purring, demanding headskritches, curling next to me. And yes, he was eating. Even with hardly any teeth, he was eating. He seems more energetic and even a little social with the people I’ve had over. All I can say is Thank God. I could not handle losing another cat so soon.

 

ceebeegee: (Tatiana the Sausage Kitty)
2016-07-18 01:48 am

End of An Era

So--last week was bad. Tatia has been declining ever since last December, although she was doing so well for awhile that both my mom and Ryan were thoroughly confused. "Sick cats don't eat like that." Months ago I concluded that Tatia had found some way to fake the whole thing, including the bloodwork, for treats and cuddles. That would be just like her :) 

She has been getting noticeably weaker the last couple of weeks--her hind legs in particular. And her appetite has been getting worse--weirdly, she seemed to want to eat but wouldn't eat anything I have her (and I offered her everything). So last week was difficult--she still had some energy and was giving me "feed me!" looks but wouldn't eat and, heartbreakingly, couldn't climb onto my bed without help.  And there was a horrifying episode when I heard her howling, looked behind me, and saw that Tibby had literally LANDED on her (she was splayed out flat on the floor, EXTREMELY upset). So Friday (10 days ago) I called the vet and they told me to bring her in. Thankfully my Friday boss at L***** was cool with letting me go home early so I was able to bring her in.

So I did and the vet examined her--the initial exam was inconclusive but then then she asked for an X-ray and then discussed the results with me. Apparently my precious Tatia had fairly severe anemia, and fluid on the lungs and heart, as well as the beginning stages of some kind of cancer,

And the vet said at this point we need to discuss euthanasia. And I was DEVASTATED. I could not stop crying.

We talked about it at length. And to be honest, I've been prepared for it for awhile.  Certainly since she was diagnosed with the kidney disease in December. But I knew even before then my lamb's days were numbered--I mean, she was certainly not a young kitty, I've had her for 18.5 years. I was so upset, the vet said that if I wanted to take her home for the night to prepare myself, that she could give Tatia some kind of injection/transfusion to help her, but I would have to bring her back first thing in the morning.

At that, I made the extremely difficult decision that it was probably best to let her go now. If she was so sick she needed a transfusion just to go home, she was obviously in very bad shape. And I couldn't risk another incident where Tibby jumped on her--what if he broke a bone? My precious one would've been in agony. So we went into a side room while the vet examined another patient and I just petted her and hugged her and told her how good she was, what a sweet kitty she was, how pretty she was.

How much I love her.

I told her she would be seeing Bunny (my mother's cat--the only other cat Tatia ever really bonded with) and Edno Mo (my brother's cat who lived with us for 5 months) when she crossed over. And I told her "feel free to visit us when you get settled..."--because I am pretty sure Edna Mo visited Anya and me a few times afterward. (I remember one night after I'd gone to bed, Tatia was sleeping on my head, and Tibby was next to me. And I KNOW something jumped onto the foot of the bed and lay at my feet.) The vet and the assistant came in and were very kind and loving. And my Tatia went to sleep in my arms, surrounded by love and loving words and softness and good smells (I'd brought my pillowcase to help comfort her in her cat carrier).

Rest in peace, my sweet Tatia--I miss you so very, very much.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2016-05-30 06:26 pm

(no subject)

Since this is the first day off that I've had at least a couple of months, I was hoping I could go to the beach, but in fact today it is cloudy and rainy so no go :( I had actually had tentative plans with my neighbor Maria to go to Brighton Beach–– she is Russian and I thought I could've practiced my Russian down there. (I love that about BB, that I can actually read the signs по русски and practice.) Maria is pretty cool--I met her and her mother when we all moved into the building 3 years ago, and there was a big meet-and-greet on the terrace in August. We hung out for drinks with her brother (who also lives in the building) two weeks ago--she asked me to meet her up at her apartment which she said was 1004. I go up there and knock, several times, and there's no answer. I text her "где ты? я здесь в 1004." {Where are you? I am here at 1004.) She gave me the wrong number--she lives the floor above. But look me at, texting full sentences and question in Cyrillic!!!!!

The heat came on this past week bigtime, which means another summer like that year. When you work outside, global warming becomes very personal--last summer was really, really hard on me. From July through to the end of August--every day I worked outside, drinking as much water as I could, and trudging home to try to cool down before trudging off again to my evenning job. I couldn't WAIT for September, and December's very warm spell was terrifying to me. I really, really hope the conservative shitheads in Congress who are reflexively blocking any kind of measure on climate change just to say fuck you to Obama live by the water, so their houses will be the first to wash into the ocean when the waters rise. I am honestly terrified at the change.

And speaking of politics, some of these Bernie fans need to step away from the Kool-Aid. Look, I have no problem with Bernie Sanders (although he isn't my choice) and if he got the nomination, of course I would vote for him. What the fuck is wrong with so many of his supporters (NOT ALL, many of perfectly reasonable, please do not NOT ALL MEN my post) that they would rather burn the whole building down than vote for a viable candidate who is LEAPS AND BOUNDS better than the Republican clown? I look at them and they all seem to be white, straight, cisgenerdered men--who really have little to fear from a Trump administration. They can afford to be pie-in-the-sky about politics. Rachel posted somehting a few days ago that brought out the Bernie nuts, and one of them actually said ""If we can't win, at least we can make the re-election an impassible road for whomever wins!" Like, WHAT THE FUCK. What a completely stupid, stupid, self-absorbed, dumbass thing to say. It's as though this is some sort of freshman year class in political theory. Four years of living under Trump policy and rhetoric would actually affect some people's lives, you fucking toddler.

In better news, my Sunday classes are growing by leaps and bounds. They added me to these classes 6 weeks ago--3 in a row in Hell's Kitchen. At first each class had literally one kid each and then they started growing. I thought little of it until one of the mothers buttonholed me after a lesson, saying "your company is new to this neighborhood, right?" I said I didn't know but these were my first classes here in Hell's Kitchen. She said you don't advertise here--I never see fliers or anything like that but all your business is growing by word-of-mouth. All of us parents go home and tell the parents of our children's friends that they should sign up. (Which obviously means they like my classes!*) She said you should advertise more--you only have one competitor (she named the company, I didn't recognize it but I could tell by the name they didn't specialize in soccer) and this neighborhood is filling up with families.

Now, I used to live in Hell's Kitchen and know and love the area quite well. I said I would pass this on to the head of marketing who was THRILLED to read all this.

And then yesterday one of the kids gave me the cutest offering. I called him a little rosencavalier (but seriously, what kind of flower is that? It's not a rose). Isn't that adorbs?



*Also on this day, one of my kids' grandparents were there to drop off/pick up the kid, and they stayed and watched. Afterward they were just aglow--the grandmother was marveling at how good I was with the kids and I said well, it's a good job for me because I like kids, I like soccer and I like to perform. And the grandfather shook his head and said "they're lucky to have you." What a nice compliment! That was a good day :)
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-12-25 09:46 pm

Update

 So, Tatia seeeeems to be doing much better. She is active (relatively), she is eating and drinking, she hisses at her brother (she’s gotten quite feisty actually) and she cuddles on Mommy’s lap like it’s her day job. The vets are still reserved about her long-term chances—they say her kidney numbers aren’t that good (or at least as high as they’d like) and they want to run some more blood work on her next week. But they did say how she does at home is a stronger indicator of her health than the numbers...so we shall see. I am optimistic that my fuzzy precious one will be with us for a little while longer.
 
Also—saw the new Star Wars movie! It was EPIC. I absolutely loved it! I think the new characters are great and I loved the grandeur and, well, pictures. It was wonderful to see all the old favorites again--I (along with the audience) cheered whenever Han and Chewie, or C-3PO, or Leia came into view. The Falcon! So great to see everyone again. And I loved the new characters as well--Rey and Ren were great, loved Finn and BB-8.  Love it, love it, love it.
 
Also—money. The vet bills are pretty big, almost $3,000 (it’s worth it to have Tatia but still—ouch). But the good news is that my parents gave me a decent amount of cash for my birthday and for Christmas, and then I also got decent bonuses from the bankers for whom I work. Plus charging so much on my card does at least generate 1% cash back. So all of this adds up to a nice chunk of change and in fact nearly half the bill so far. Which is obviously incredibly relieving. I doubt I’ll be able to go to Oslo this spring as I’d planned but it’s not because of the money, it’s because Tatia needs nightly medication and fluids. I just don’t feel right about having someone else do that right now (although it’s possible I could change my mind if she remains stable). I certainly don’t want to miss out on Oslo but my precious Lady Stompalot is more important.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-12-12 05:39 pm

(no subject)

Oh, this week from hell just gets better and better and better. Talia has been in the hospital for several days and they thought it would be best if she came home tonight--the clinic is closed for over 12 hours on Saturday and Sunday nights and they didn't want her to be alone that long. So I'm walking to the clinic, big L.L. Bean bag on one arm, my cat carrier on the other and as soon as I turn onto Park Avenue I noticed there is a kid nearby walking in the same direction. No older than 12, and he seems to be walking about my pace, I noticed that he never got ahead of me. So, annoyed, I slow down and noticed that he slowed down as well. I speed up, noticed he sped up as well. There was really nothing I could do other than stop I suppose, you can't exactly turn around and tell a total stranger stop walking near me.

Then a few blocks later I feel something. This nasty little fucking shit stain had the temerity to grab my butt. I turned around and absolutely <b>roared</b> at him and he looked terrified. I chased him for most of the block absolutely screaming at him YOU ARE A COWARD I WILL FIND YOU IF YOU TRY THAT AGAIN I WILL KICK YOUR ASS LITTLE BOY IF YOU EVER TOUCH ME AGAIN I WILL KICK YOUR ASS LITTLE BOY
 
Just--ewww. What the fuck is <i>wrong</i> with you! 12 years old and you're grabbing strange women? Stalking them for five blocks? What the fuck is wrong with you, you nasty little shit?
 
What a fucking birthday week, man. Scammed on Saturday for $100, my cat nearly dies and goes into the hospital costing me thousands of dollars and then some little nasty piece of shit acts like a nasty <i>entitled</i> piece of shit.

Updated to add: Just filed a police report. I doubt they'll catch the shitstain but if when he does it again, it will have established a pattern.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-12-07 08:49 pm

Weekend From Hell

 Have had an utterly shit weekend, all things considered—and the gift just keeps on giving today.
 
It started with my corporate game Friday night. None of the guys on the team responded or came so I had to dig up a bunch of subs just so we could have a game. One of my friends, who monitors a soccer email group, sent out an email for me saying I needed subs and a goalie. Several guys responded, including one guy who was the first to get to the field house. He was an older player and I could tell right off the bat he wasn’t very good (just generally not very coordinated, kind of awkward and flail-y). Angela (my friend) was also asking guys at the field house if they wanted to play and quite a few said yes. So we had a team and lots of subs, which was obviously good. Older Guy asks me “do you actually need subs?” I thought he was asking if I needed HIM, like if we didn’t really need him, he could leave or do something else or whatever. I shrugged and said “well, we did—we are pretty full right now though” and he starts yelling at me, saying “why did you send out that email then? I thought you needed players, I came a long way for this!” Like, back the fuck UP. I don’t care how far away you came, that’s on you.  I said “Angela sent out the email and a lot of people responded but they didn’t show up until just before the game and she knew I was still worried, so she recruited even more players.” He’s like “well, do you need me or not?” I said “what do YOU want to do? Do you want to play? THEN PLAY. No one’s kicking you out! And get off my case!” I really wanted to say “you are not good enough to cop this kind of attitude and the pickup community is small—you <b>will</b> be remembered if you act obnoxiously.” It really upset me at the beginning of the game—dude, I don’t even know you, calm down. I absolutely detest it when older men act like that. After the game (he wasn’t terrible but he was far and away the weakest and slowest player out there) he tried to make nice with me but man, never again. If he responds to another mass email seeking subs, I’m ignoring it.
 
So then Saturday after my classes, I was walking through Harlem on my way back to my apartment, and going up Frederick Douglass Boulevard. FDB was really blossomed in the past 5 years or so—tons of great new restaurants and lounges, all different types. I text Ryan “hey, it’s a gorgeous day—wanna meet for lunch?” So we decide to meet at 116 and FDB. I get there and Ryan comes up to me—he says he was waiting for me and a guy came up to him, coming on to him, and was asking him to get a drink. Ryan said he was waiting for a friend and the guy said bring your friend, I’ll buy them a drink as well. Said he was in town for a wedding and he hated to drink alone. Ryan said to me we don’t have to if you’d rather not but I thought, why not? We all sit down together and the guy was staring at me, absolutely hung on my every word. But he said he was gay and I thought he was trying to impress Ryan and pick him up. The guy orders another round of drinks and then Ryan and I decide why not, we’ll eat here. It seemed like a good conversation. Then the guy goes over to the waitress and when he comes back, he’s slipping a receipt into his pocket—trying to look like he was being discreet but I sensed he wanted me to notice. Then the food arrives and a few minutes later he wants to go out front for a cigarette and asks Ryan to join him.
 
I wait FOREVER for them to come back—at least 15-20 minutes. Finally Ryan comes back—alone. He says the guy told him he had paid for the bill with his “corporate card” but he had to meet his “weed dealer” and asked Ryan to pay for our portions, in cash. He asked for $70 and Ryan immediately balked. Ryan said oh no, you ordered those rounds of drinks, not us. We’ll pay for our food and that’s it. Ryan said he would give him $40 but he didn’t have cash—the guy said there’s an ATM machine a few blocks away. (This, I think, is when I might have figured it out [I say might because someone tried to scam me like this once and as soon as they mentioned the phrase ”ATM machine” something clicked and it felt wrong somehow. Like, you should not be directing me to an ATM]. But Ryan had a lot of information to process, I don’t blame him for not picking up on this.) The guy was talkingtalkingtalking the entire way, Ryan gets him $40 and the guy says he’ll be right back.
 
I sat there, processing this, and said “What do we do now?” Ryan said he’ll be back and I thought about it. I said “Ryan, I don’t think he’s going to come back—that’s a pretty egregious etiquette breach, asking for cash like that, even if he did foot the bill. I think he might be embarrassed.” Then it occurred to me if he doesn’t come back, he might’ve stiffed the waitress so I call her over and ask if he tipped her. She looks startled and says: he didn’t pay the bill at all.
 
Ryan and I sit there, stunned. The waitress is very concerned and asks us what’s the deal, and we explain to her what happened. She goes to get the manager and I tell Ryan the fairest thing would be for them to take off his portion and we just pay for our meals, but we shouldn’t count on that. Manager comes, we tell her everything and she decides to take off one round of drinks and his meal. The bill comes to $70-something and I put on a whopping tip (on the original amount, not the adjusted total) which the waitress had to clarify “are you sure?” I said you’ve been so helpful and I’m not going to stiff you on the service you provided to him, even if he is a thief, that’s not your fault. We went to police to file a report but the guy to whom we spoke was utterly unhelpful (if polite) and was very discouraging, saying the guy hadn’t used force, it wasn’t a crime, a judge wouldn’t do anything. I said who cares about a judge? We know we’re not going to see Ryan’s money again—but what about informing the community that a scammer is running around? The cop was saying to Ryan, well you gave him that money, he didn’t actually rob you. I said--then why did you go after the squeegee guys in the '90s? Why do you go after the costumed people in Times Square? It’s not a crime to ask for a tip—why would you come down hard on them but you don’t care about scammers who actually lie? It's a quality of life issue, which is exactly what the broken windows theory is designed to address--that little crimes turn into bigger ones. In the end the cop refused to do anything so as we walked out I loudly remarked about how he didn’t want to do his job, even though crime is so low they have nothing else to do except escort 12 year old boys in handcuffs (which we saw when we first entered). Hey, I might as well use white privilege (I knew the cop wouldn’t come down on me for that remark) for good.
 
Then yesterday. Here’s the context: I went away for Thanksgiving and as usual, Michael fed the babies. When I came back I noticed Tatia was hardly moving—for two days (Monday and Tuesday) she literally barely stirred from my pillow. I had to shove food under her nose to get her to eat anything. Very concerned, I made an appointment at the vet for her. My current vet is on Lex and 94th—they’re great but they’re expensive, $97 per visit. I first took the babies there in fall of ’13 and it was obviously a bit of a hit, especially because they were recommending blood tests for Tatia ($200+) and tooth extraction (much more $$$). At that time I flat-out could not afford that, whatsoever. (I'm doing better now but this is still ending up to be quite a lot for me.)

So since then I haven’t taken them back for a checkup, thinking hey, they’re indoor cats, it’s not like they’ll get hit by a car.  So anyway, as this past week progressed, Tatia was doing better—moving around, climbing into my lap. But I kept the appointment, which was yesterday.  They did a regular checkup and then recommended blood work and a fluid injection (she was dehydrated). I nixed the fluid injection (the least important thing—she wasn't terribly dehydrated) but okayed the blood work, so the bill was $327 (checkup, bloodwork, plus 2 cans of AD, a special super-fattening and irresistible wet food for cats who have gone off their food).
 
The vet called today. Lambkin has kidney disease and a bladder infection, so I have to bring her in tomorrow for an antibiotic. Plus they wanted to “do a culture” on her to make sure they were getting her the right antibiotic (the one tomorrow is a general one—she needs one pretty badly). The culture is $160, plus $50 for the first antibiotic. I thought about it and decided to go ahead and get the culture (that was optional--the doctor was very respectful of my financial concerns--but recommended). In for a penny, in for a metric fuckton, right?
 
The kicker is—I have insurance for them. But it’s contingent upon their receiving a yearly checkup, so they have a baseline of health for the animal. Which I skipped last year, because I couldn’t afford it. (And I’d forgotten about that insurance requirement.) My options are not good—I can either ask the vet to back me up if I say I took Tatia for her annual exam which they might refuse (and which they would be entirely in the right to do so.  That’s a lot to ask). Or I throw myself on the mercy of my insurance company, and I don’t expect them to give in. (Although if they do I’ll just go ahead and cancel her policy—not out of spite but I might as well save myself that monthly expense.)  $500+ in one week for Tatia. Plus the restaurant thing. Jesus.
 
WHAT YE FUCK, UNIVERSE?!

But at least Lambkin is doing better. She's eating, she's moving around, she's cuddling, and she's doing one of my favorite stunts--when I'm in bed but awake (like when I first wake up, or first lie down), she loves to walk over to the pillow and stand with front and back paws on opposite sides of my face, essentially straddling my face. What kills me is how she pulls this off--she kind of looks around, like she's considering something, like hmm, what to do, what to do, decisions, decisions. Meanwhile her BELLY FULL OF FUR is hanging right in my face, smothering me. And Tatia just pretends she doesn't even notice.  This sadistic game of hers is how I know she's doing a little better. When your elderly cat stops trying to kill you, that's when you know they're in trouble.
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2015-11-18 12:30 am

Friday

 So, the rest of the weekend. I had two soccer games on Friday. The first game was for my corporate team--we were playing the last place team so we should've won easily. Except that a couple of people who were supposed to show up, who were confirmed to show up, did not so we ended up playing the entire game with just five players––i.e., no subs. I have been in this situation before and it is infuriating and depressing. You literally feel abandoned by your teammates. This was the last place team and we should've been crushing them but we were down by one or two goals at halftime, at which point I sent off a blistering email to everybody on the email distribution list plaintively asking where the hell are you guys?! I get that the analysts on our team are constantly called in at the last minute to do work but the big guy who bailed on us was not an analyst, he's an associate--he should've been there. On the other hand, perhaps it's better he wasn't there. He has an annoying way of trying to take on every single person on the other team and score like that and he never, ever, ever, ever seems to see me for any other player waiting on the sidelines by the goal, available to score. He just wants to score all the goals himself. 

At any rate we ended up winning 10-7, And I scored five of our 10 goals. I don't know, I seemed to get a groove Friday night--even the other team was commenting on it. So as I said before, after the game I grabbed my phone and was checking up on what happened in the last hour in Paris and was asked if I could step in to play as a female since our league dictates that two women must be on the field entire game. I said sure, I'm happy to get more playing time. This is a very very good team, better than ours quite frankly. They had a lot of set pieces and obviously have worked together a lot and finally they started feeding the ball to me. The first few times I was messing up––my touches are not always that great–– but eventually I started putting the ball in the goal and they started noticing. And I could see the looks of growing respect on their faces after every goal. I ended up being the high score in that game as well, which was certainly gratifying.

I remember having a conversation with one of the guys on our team who was complimenting me and I said you know, my form is not that great and there're a lot of things I can't do on the field but when I <iu>can</u> do is convert. I am ALWAYS looking for a shot, always trying to score and I never let the galie relax. One goal of which I am MOST proud was when a bunch of us were clustered around the goal and the goalie grabbed the ball. We all started to jog back and I snuck a glance over my shoulder--I am not sure how but somehow he let go of the ball and dribbled out of his hand so I pounced on it and to shot which on in. I was very proud of that.
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2015-11-16 09:57 pm

Paris

 So Friday. Along with the rest of the world I was obviously horrified and sickened and saddened by the news I started picking up online around five o'clock.  I went over to the woman for whom I work on Fridays and said "have you seen the news? Do you know what's going on in Paris?" We both started monitoring news web sites. I remember when just 66 dead (CNN) seemed like a ridiculous exaggeration. Absolutely horrifying. My brother's in-laws (he is married to a Parisienne) are all safe, thank God. 

Friday was a little crazy for me. I was struggling with my reaction to this horrific news situation but I also had a soccer game with my corporate team. I was actually really immersed into that and was grateful for the escape from the sadness. After the game I remembered again what had happened in Paris and immediately grabbed my phone to see what (new) news there was. Then I was asked to join another game which went really well (in both games I was the lead scorer). Again, I was very grateful for the escape.  I'll talk more about that later but it was a strange juxtaposition of feeling like a citizen of the world, compelled to partake of the world's tragedies, and feeling like a very privileged American, who can forget about stuff like this with frivolous activities.
 
The next day I had classes in the morning and then I had to hop on the bus to get home for a very brief trip so I could partake of my high school reunion. (Again, more about that later but it was a lot of fun.) But on the bus ride home I noticed two things--first, a lot of people were changing their profile picture on Facebook to add the tricouleur overlay. (Which I also wanted to do but was unable to manage via cell phone.) The other thing was that a lot of posts coming out about additional attacks that had happened in other locations by ISIS (i.e., Daesh), in Kenya and in Beirut. And it is obviously very important to point out this as well--for whatever reason the media didn't seem to push these stories as hard so I was unaware of them. That is absolutely worth discussing.

But there was also a lot of finger-pointing and a lot of pretty harsh statements (I saw one really offputting article on HuffPo today) about how racist people must be if they cared more about Paris than about these other attacks. I don't really take it personally because I know that these things are meant as a response to a trend and not to me personally but for the record I will say--I speak French. I have extended French family. I have a lot of French ancestry on my mother's side, and I was raised to be proud of that. And perhaps most importantly and most obviously: I have been to Paris. I daresay a decent number of Americans have. I have never been to Beirut, nor to Kenya. If I had visited those place, the attacks would've been much more on my radar and I would've had a response to them. If somebody had attacked Tangiers or Casablanca, two cities where I visited--in Tangiers's case I've been there many, many times –– I would've been just as horrified. I think it's a little ridiculous to beancount and micromanage people's heartfelt reactions to tragedy. Yes, if this were a perfect world we would always respond the same way to tragedies near and tragedies far, but right now that's not the way the human heart works. We tend to respond to those tragedies which are closest to us or to which we have some kind of personal connection. Again, along with everything else, I have visited Paris. It's a beautiful city--lots of history, gorgeous architecture, the world's most popular musical takes place there. *Shrug* I feel that that accounts for the reaction on Saturday and I'm not sure there's anything to be gained by trying to shame people into reacting to something else. It honestly strikes me as a weird version of the Oppression Olympics. Just let people react honestly and stop trying to police their grief unless it's overtly problematic.
 
I was also disappointed to read an article today that included a long series of comments about how stupid and silly people were to, say, add the tricouleur overlay to their FB profile pics. The way I saw it was--after 9-11, I was devastated, like everyone else in NYC, DC and the rest of the country. Shortly thereafter, people started forwarding the emails (remember our lives before social media?) showing how the rest of the world responded. I saw pictures of candlelight vigils from people all over Europe. And the Middle East--including Palestinians (that did quite a lot to me, after seeing that horrible video of Palestinians dancing around and handing out candy after hearing about 9-11). Country after country, culture after culture were standing up, saying we stand with you. We reject this. Nous sommes tous Americains. That mattered to me. That made me feel better. It comforted me, standing in my apartment, wailing to the ceiling, asking God how could you do this? What is the point of all that death? I wanted to send the same message back to our French friends. This is wrong. We stand with you. We are your friends. What is the harm? If someone wants to post a picture of themselves in front of the Tour Eiffel, why is that a problem? If someone mis-translates a statement of solidarity, who cares? You know what they meant. I just don't get the need to sneer at any effort that isn't perfect.

Aujour'dhui, nous sommes tous francais. Nous sommes avec vous. Nous vous aimons. Nous sommes vos amis. Nous marchons avec vous. Nous surmonterons.
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2015-11-04 11:39 pm

An Afternoon in Washington Square Park

So I had an interesting afternoon.

I had a two-hour window between classes so I got lunch and went to hang out in Washington Square Park, which was packed with people and lovely. I'm sitting on the grass there in my stocking feet (shoe issues, podiatrist visit tomorrow) and noticed a couple of possibly-homeless guys maybe 50 feet away, talking loudly, swaying back and forth, the usual.  I'm working on a couple of classes and look up to see one of the PHG getting in the face (literally) of an older guy (60s?), who had a dog on a leash nearby by. This was right near me, maybe 10 feet. PHG is yelling at Older Guy, "your DOG bit me in the FACE, what the fuck are you gonna do about it?" I see he does indeed have a small wound on his nose that's bleeding. OG is backing away, not saying much and PHG hauls off and SOCKS OG in the face, knocking him to the ground. OG is trying to stand back up and stumbles back down again. PHG is still yelling at him, "WHAT are you gonna DO about it?" I jump up, pepper spray in hand, and jump between them, asking OG "are you okay? Should I call 911?" PHG is lunging forward and I stuck out a hand, saying "leave him alone!" (Like--CRINGE, Clara. "Leave him alone"? Couldn't I have said something more authoritative like keep your distance? Oy.) OG said to me "no, I'm not okay..." and I whipped out my phone. The best part was when PHG moved backwards at one point and came within range of the doggie who was still on the leash attached to a fence post. Dog went to TOWN on PHG's ankle. Doggie saw PHG attacking his human and he was having none of it. (I was very proud of him--good doggie! Don't come near me but good doggie!) 

OG take doggie and stumbles out of the park. PHG is lurching after him, and now he's really bellowing. He's screaming at people on the bench in front of me and I'm on the phone with 911, giving a description of PHG (I'm sure they could hear him on the phone), telling them exactly where in the park we were. The dispatcher asked me "what does he look like--is he black or Hispanic?" "Uh, actually he's white!" She said they'd send out a call (or whatever they said) but as it turned out there were already cops in the park, pretty close by, who kind of strolled over. Good timing, guys! Would've been nice if you'd stepped in earlier. A few other spectators and I spoke to the cops and eventually PHG showed up, cops in tow, handcuffed.  The cops asked me where the victim had gone and I pointed--they thought he'd disappeared because of the dog, because the dog had bitten someone. The other spectators and I were discussing this--I was saying that anyone with a lick of sense doesn't just shove their head toward a strange dog. You ask the owner if you can pet the dog, you ask if it's friendly. And then you slowly extend your hand to the dog so it can smell you. Don't ever put your face near a strange dog. Dogs are not humans, they are subject to their instincts, they will react unpredictably. That's the risk you take when you put yourself into their space. I would've had no sympathy for him even before he attacked OG and was screaming at him.

The kicker was that 30 minutes later PHG is strolling around, free. The cops didn't book him. I get that the victim vanished but you had at least 30 witnesses and he ATTACKED the guy. He'll undoubtedly do it again. I guess they didn't want the administrative hassle. Only in New York!

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2015-10-23 01:58 pm

History and Soccer

 So Wednesday I was assisting a coach in a class of 2-3 year olds. This coach is older, from Italy, and we have some awesome discussions. And he knows I’m a huge history nerd. So he was teaching the kids, and as the lesson progressed we ended up with a floor of big cones with smaller cones on top of them, and he wants the kids to knock them down. So he says “thees is lahk Rome and…”—looks questioningly at me—“…the Phoenicians?” I laughed and said “the Carthaginians, actually, although they spoke Phoenician.” So then I start getting into it and I’m encouraging the kids to “sack Carthage, we have to sack Carthage! Make sure they never invade our peninsula again!” Now I’m trying to figure out how I can come up with a lesson that incorporates Roman history—I have two kids (not even related!) in my Saturday class of 4-5 years olds whose names are Cassius and Livia and I love to call her Empress. My Saturday classes are outdoors and there’s a slope nearby—I can possibly recreate Hannibal’s passage through the Alps. The sack of soccer balls could be the elephants…
 
 
 
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-08-24 11:35 pm

(no subject)

So I've been having fun lately coming up with all sorts of awesome and exciting exercises for my kids. I have been so, so upset about the murder of Cecil the Lion and it occurred to me that I actually have a kind of platform with my classes so I came up with a lesson involving various exotic animals from Africa. At first they were going to be in the zoo but I was talking with a fellow coach about the lesson and he is a very passionate and committed animal rights activist. I am not where he is and perhaps never will be as far as veganism and vegetarianism but I have great respect for his views. At any rate he took me out for vegan ice cream cones a couple of weeks ago and I was telling him about this lesson--originally it was going to be a zoo theme but he gently suggested that zoos were exploitative. I'm not sure I agree entirely with that--I think there's a conservation purpose with zoos--but at any rate he suggested sanctuaries as an alternative to zoos. At the same time my lessons are for very young kids--2, 3, 4-5 years old. Eventually I decided I could talk to the kids about the African veldt--they wouldn't get the whole idea but they would pick up the salient points--the grassy fields, all the different kinds of beautiful animals, it's far away and awesome, etc.. So that's what I did--a lesson where I separated the four nets and they would feed various foods to the animals--the lions were fed "lion cookies" (the small cones), the rhinoceri (and I taught them that word, along with veldt) "rhinoceros ice cream cones," the zebras "zebra scones" (the small black-and-white squishy balls) and the elephants "elephant cakes (the regular-size silver soccer balls). For our main drill, we have to add pressure of some kind--either through obstacles or by shortening the time somehow and I said "the poacher is trying to steal the elephant cakes from the elephants!" and I had the assistant stand in front of the nets so the kids would "feed" the elephants by kicking their balls between his legs. It's a small thing but maybe that will contribute to some good in the world.

But I also came up with a fun warm-up exercise for this. Warm-up exercises are supposed to be free and easy for the kids, just something to get them on their feet. So I told them: you are gazelles--gazelles are kind of like deer--and you are hanging out on the veldt. So you're walking around with your soccer ball and you're going to the watering hole and you're high-hooving each other with your big thick hooves but here's the deal– the lion is in the middle of you guys and the lion is sleeping because that's what lions do it sometime. (Which is true--lions sleep a ridiculous amount of the day. I actually did a lot of research for this lesson!) Lions and gazelles are not exactly friends (I left out that lions actually eat gazelles!) so when the lion starts to wake up and ROAR you have to be absolutely still. (I also went over with them how to stop the ball--put your foot on top.)   So then I, as the lion, pretended to sleep as my kids dribbled the ball around me...and then I'd stir and say "oh, the lion is waking up now" and then I'd ROAR. And then I'd walk around as my kids would freeze, with the most hilarious expressions--I'd get right up in their face and say "man, I can't see any gazelles here today. Guess I'll go back to sleep." The kids LOVED it. I actually had kids this week requesting to play that again. 3-4 year olds LOVE to be scared. So much fun!
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2015-08-13 02:42 am

(no subject)

 I am in fucking agony right now. Got home from dinner with Lori and iced my knees--no good. Am currently combining tequila with Alleve to numb myself. I can hardly walk. I am not sure if I will be able to get to my classes tomorrow. Hopefully new sneakers plus double layers of socks plus topical glucosomine will do the trick.

I can't believe two full shots of cortisone to the knees lasted only 6 weeks. I am fucking YOUNG, for God's sake. But I am lurching about my apartment like I'm 80. I am starting to wonder if maybe I need to think about surgery for my knees--and I already MUST have surgery for my bunions.

The weird thing is as painful as it is to walk, my classes are still mostly fine and when I play in an actual game, that's fine as well. It's not the adrenaline, it's the way I use my feet.
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2015-07-03 12:53 pm

(no subject)

 So as I said a lot has been going on. Another really exciting thing, perhaps the most exciting thing besides our saving Sweet Briar, has been that I have been promoted to Head Coach! I didn't expect this until the fall and winter possibly next spring. This past spring they had scheduled me for quite a lot of classes--it was actually a very difficult schedule to maintain. But I suppose I was doing so and I know that I was getting very good feedback. They had observed several of my classes and gave me excellent reviews based on that. And then I taught a couple of classes at a Catholic school downtown and the class coordinator in the administration really liked me. She sent an email about me to our office, praising me and they told me that that particular school had been an on-again, off-again customer but that they'd specifically said they wanted to do classes in the fall and that they "can only hope they get Coach Clara again." Obviously this made me feel fantastic! So I think the fact that I actually created business for them is part of why I got the promotion. 

It's also interesting to note that my promotion has leapfrogged over that of some other coaches. Like any company I suppose, there are some excellent coaches here and then there are some hacks. There was a coach I worked with last summer who was a nice enough guy but was very--how can I put this?--inauthentic when dealing with the kids. He just seemed very fake in his enthusiasm and as a result the kids really didn't listen to him. I actually had to teach a class with him this spring--one of the ones at the aforementioned Catholic school. The kids at that school are great kids but they're very high-energy and you definitely needed to as, I put it, blow the whistle with them. And he didn't do it--he would ineffectively cajole them and explain to them and they just ignored him. Until finally I pulled out my whistle, blew the heck out of it, and informed the kids they WOULD sit down, be quiet and listen to the coach. (Understand for this class he was the head coach, the one officially in charge, and I was the assistant.)  Then when the class was over he kind of wandered off after saying goodbye and never signed out the kids which is a big no-no. I ended up running after the kids and their parents to sign them out officially, and then going up to the office and apologizing. I said to the coordinator "I don't know what happened here--it is officially his class and he was the one responsible but I apologize. And I will personally make sure for the rest of the classes that I have the kids signed out properly." I think it was the this that that got the corner later on my side and why she eventually sent the email to the office about me. Like, you just can't DO that, you can't just leave these kids, you have to make sure that they end up where they're supposed to be! As I said some of these coaches are hacks. I know that one of the other coaches who also got promoted to head coach as well--I'm not sure if they've ever observed his classes, they must have, but I've worked with him. He's a nice enough guy but he never plans his classes, he just shows up and improvises. And maybe this wouldn't be so bad (some coaches are excellent improvisors) except he tends to throw the ball at YOU, as it were. Like, I'm not going to help you plan your class, that's your job, that's why you're listed as the head coach for this class. Every class of ever worked with him, he flails around and asks if I can think of anything--well again, that's your job. It's very frustrating. I put a lot of thought into my classes, the exercises and their ages, etc. and it's annoying when I have to cover for someone who can't be bothered to put in the preparation.

Anyway so it's all been very exciting. Also exciting is that--and I may have mentioned this already--but they have opened up offices internationally. They just opened their first office in London a few months ago. They have all-company meetings before every new season, so roughly 4 times a year. And at the most recent meeting I introduced myself to the London contact and talked to him about possibly going over there to help. Especially because I know that they want to build the girl market internationally and that is something at which I could be very good.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-06-30 02:11 am

(no subject)

So, yeah. It has been an eventful week, month, spring. An incredible amount has happened but the last week especially has been absolutely wonderful.

The most important news, of course, has been about my beloved school, Sweet Briar College. As I mentioned in my last entry, the interim president decided along with the board to close the school, even though there was no real need to do so. (That is, we were in decent financial shape, we still had a very large endowment, etc. ) Nobody could understand how the interim president and the board had come to this decision, especially since they decided not to share any of their documentation with us. So the Alumnae Association has been waging a very fierce battle to overturn the decision. This has been a very bitter battle indeed and there are certain alums who quite frankly I no longer welcome on campus. The interim president has a very checkered past in academia, since he was actually fired from his last job as a college president, from Trinity College in Connecticut. And the fact is he only got the job as interim president of Sweet Briar because his wife was an alum--we think in fact that he was actually brought in solely to close the school, even though of course none of that was disclosed to us last fall.  One of the most infuriating aspects of this whole mess is that they were calling us to donate to the annual fund right up until the day before the announcement to close. This notwithstanding they had decided at least a month ago to close. Which means that all of the money that they had been soliciting for the month of February would be going to close the school, not to continue Sweet Briar. Of course they didn't bother to tell us that. This ended up being a key point in one of the many lawsuits that were pursued to halt the closure.

Anyway, so the interim president was married to an alum who was actually kind of disturbingly supportive of her husband throughout this whole mess. At some point in March she addressed the Atlanta alumnae association and went on this rant about how Sweet Briar was "different" than it used to be in her day, how the students weren't the same and it was better that Sweet Briar should close, and, well, she graduated in 1969 and I personally heard a lot of coded racial language in her rant. I had a difficult few weeks, because anytime someone senses something like this, as soon as you bring it up somebody shushes you, saying oh no, no, don't bring up race, you know that they didn't mean it like that. I ran my thoughts past Ryan and Tracy and after maybe six weeks or so other people were starting to say it as well.

ANYWAY. My main point is that the interim president and his wife are both absolute wretches, worthless worthless people. (At one point we were comparing Team Kill Sweet Briar people to Harry Potter characters--I said that Alum Wife was Wormtail. I still cannot get past how eager she was to close. To close SWEET BRIAR. What the fuck is WRONG with you?!) But in the end it didn't matter because after three effing lawsuits they finally agreed to mediation (after a lot of delaying) and settlement. And we, the alumni, or getting the keys to the college. We are basically getting everything we want, except of course we have to pay for the interim president's golden parachute, as well as the cowardly board who voted with him. Not happy about that but frankly it's a small price to get rid of these despicable people. 

So now we are, according to the terms of the settlement, have to convert the pledges that we made to support our efforts, to cash. Which honestly isn't that difficult--Sweet Briar alums love our college so much that we are willing to give it all the money that it needs. But we are also looking ahead to the future – – we will be open this fall, and we want to retain our faculty, we want to retain our students, we went to try to keep everything as it was as much as possible. So tonight we had a fundraiser and it was pretty cool. I met some awesome people, including the husband of an alum who has been a big big part of this effort. He too is crazy about Shakespeare, and I was talking to him about how I wanted to do a reading of a Midsummer Night's Dream as a fundraiser. I said that it is been a long term dream of mine to do an actual production of Midsummer on the campus of Sweet Briar, which would honestly be an amazing amazing realization of that text. It is an absolutely stunning campus--the idea of performing Oberon's I know a bank where the wild thyme blows or Puck's And we fairies that do run/by the triple Hecate's team/from the presence of the sun/following darkness like a dream... (at twilight no less) is breathtaking.

Anyway, so alum husband was very, very impressed by our conversation and suggested starting a Shakespeare Festival on campus during the summers. And really seems to want to pursue this and gave me his business card and his wife is one of the most important people re: Sweet Briar right now so who knows, maybe this could actually happen. I think this is a fantastic idea and would love, love, love to make this happen.

There's a lot more to talk about but this is it for right now.
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-05-04 01:05 am

(no subject)

 Having some bad knee problems.  Walking everywhere because of the job and my knees are in a ton of pain so I went to the orthopedist Wednesday.  OH MY LORD HE IS HOT. And he remembers me from my knee injury from three years ago. I don't remember he was that hot last time, perhaps I was in too much pain then to appreciate him properly ;) He put me on a six-day regimen of medication and ice and, well, we will see. It hasn't made a huge difference so far but we will see. If that doesn't work we are looking at shots of cortisone or some other medication, which is still better than surgery.

Which I will have to have on my horrible feet. The bunions just keep getting worse and worse and the left one absolutely must get surgery. I'm hoping to keep it conservative so I don't have to spend too much time in bed, and I think if I have it around Christmas or Thanksgiving I won't miss much work. I will worry about the other foot later.

They have been giving me TONS of classes which is great--the money is terrific--but I am exhausted all the time. I am literally working 7 days a week. But at least it's interesting work--I do love my classes when they go well. But it's taking atoll on my body--on the one hand, I'm losing a metric shit-ton of weight which makes me VERY HAPPY. Losing a lot of weight for me is a relative term. I'm a small person with a small frame--if I gain or lose more than 4 pounds it's very noticeable. And for the past few years, ever since The Situation (I was quite skinny during that mess), the weight has started to creep up a little bit every year. But right now I fit into all my old stuff, yay! So that's one good thing about the work schedule I'm on. But on the other hand, I'm worried I'm deteriorating a bit. I know I'm not as fast on the soccer field as I was last year. Maybe I should join a league for older people :/

In other news the interim President and Board of Directors at my beloved alma mater, Sweet Briar College, have attempted a coup and are trying to sell the school out from under us. Yes, this is really A Thing. They are trying to close the school and sell off the land. The whole thing is absolutely horrifying--the "President" did a lot of whining about how Sweet Briar just couldn't survive, it's "a co ed world now" and then stuff started coming out about how he was FIRED at his last stint as college President--Trinity College in CT actually kicked him out, he was so hated there. During his tenure there the college's ranking dropped like 100 places in the nationals rankings of liberals colleges.  And he and the SBC Board absolute, point blank REFUSE to show us any documentation or discuss anything with us--they (mostly men, of course) just keep insisting over and over Sweet Briar has to close and why are we being so emotional and hysterical? (Why, we're all on our collective pink and green periods of course, you misogynistic fat FUCK.) The alumnae have banded together and formed an organization called Saving Sweet Briar (501(c)3 status pending) to stop this outrage and we're enmeshed in a lot of legal proceedings. So far we've gotten two injunctions--they can't use any monies to sell which were not raised specifically for that purpose. (One of the more outrageous aspects of this is that they were calling for donations UP UNTIL THE DAY BEFORE THE ANNOUNCEMENT, even though they're already decided to close. Of course they didn't tell anyone. Nope, we all just got calls and letters asking us to donate to Sweet Briar--asking us to fund their fucking golden parachutes. Jim Jones (interim President) and Paul Rice (Board member who is pushing for this) = LYING LIARS AND THIEVES. Jones and Rice are buddy buddy with Mark Herring, the Virginia AG (they all went to UVA together) and we suspect there's some kind of crony deal to carve up our beloved school.  The other injunction is a six-month injunction prohibiting them from touching any assets (they can't sell anything). This has hamstrung them but they are lying liars and thieves and they've already been caught shredding documents--they may just go on trashing the school anyway. They're having an all-class reunion this month but I won't go--as I told Mom, if I ran across Jim Jones I would have a difficult time not spitting right in his lying face. 

Ao anyway, that's been on my mind quite a bit for the past two months. 
ceebeegee: (Default)
2015-02-22 12:40 am

(no subject)

 I directed a play for Elizabeth (a lil' 10-minute thing) and it went up today.  The venue was quite nice, in a library not too far from my place.  Vaulted ceilings and decent acoustics (for singing).

I've been thinking for a while now--I really want to get back into performing, especially voice.  I did two concerts for Donna last year and I'm wondering how I can expand on that.  Maybe do a concert at this venue (I chatted up the guy who was running things).  And I'd like--maybe, if I have the time--to start up Holla Holla again this summer, in a limited way, a reading of some kind (Shakespeare, of course) of the neighborhood.  My place is big enough, we could have rehearsals here.

I really love to be on stage.  I love to sing and I love to act.  And I need to get back to that.  It's part of what makes me me.