Yup. Hurricane Irene hit us, but we were prepared... sort of. In the 48 hours leading up to the storm, my husband got a little "hysterical" and impatient with my lack of diligence. I tried to keep up with him, but I just didn't have the same commitment.
It started out pretty mildly: "Vamos," he said. "We have to fill up your car and go to the bank to get some cash."
I went along with these things and tried to sound calm but aware of the looming threat. When we got to the bank, there was a line outside the ATM entrance and I gamely took my place. It moved quickly and ten minutes later we were right there at the door... when I realized that I hadn't actually brought my ATM card. Hubby was pretty calm - and we drove home to get it (we live close). Almost no line when we got back, so it could have been worse. When we got home from the bank/gas station, my husband decided to go to home depot to buy some tubes to take the water from the rain spouts away from the house. I really did NOT want to go to Home Depot so I quickly thought up the excuse that I might need to head out to look for L (son) who had not returned from soccer practice yet. Actually, I still had cleaning to do in kitchen, because... did I mention? We have been having guests over at our house almost daily (my husband's ex-wife's sister and brother in law.) But, I did sneak up to my room also to lie on my comfy bed and read for a while ahhhh....
Saturday, the preparations, took of full steam ahead. Hubby began to ask for clean buckets, which he washed and filled with water (even though I had already stored some water in old 2 liter coke bottles and in a huge pot). Still, it made sense - if it floods in our community, the water treatment plant can be taken out of commission for a while). We'd gone to the farmer's market and to the store on Friday, but hubby wasn't satisfied: wanted to buy extra food (for us and for guests). I convinced him that, really, we didn't have anywhere to put it... but he could buy things that could be stored without refrigeration. End result: I have diet soda, lemonade and fruit punch galore and packets and packets of galletas maria (Goya). Don't know if you've tried them, but they're pretty addictive. (The after-effects of the storm for me will be cholesterol and tooth decay.)
But that's not all folks... Yours truly had to get up on our roof to clean out the rain spouts. Always a good thing to keep up with, so that was fine with me. L really wanted to get up on the roof instead of me, but I've done it so many times already and his father gets nervous -(he got his chance later...) Then, some brilliant neighbor told hubby that we had better take down our awning. I had kind of convinced him that we could leave it. So, I got back on the roof to undo the awning. Hubby and I had a public argument (in Spanish) because he was very nervous about whether I knew how to take down the awning. I didn't. BUT, I knew that I had done it before and that it hadn't been hard. So, I got up on the ladder again to climb up on the roof, but this time the screws which hold the top of the awning in place were impossible to move. Sent son up to give it a try; he can't do it either. They are placed very awkwardly right below the gutter. Finally I got up there again with a wrench and a hammer (not necessary last time) and managed to get things unscrewed.
I won't go into the details of how I led my husband through the harrowing ordeal of me constantly remembering things about taking that awning down... one by one... after we were well under way with the process. But, I was right. We did it and it was pretty easy.
So, then the guests came over for the daily chat over food and coffee etc. I was a mess, of course, and still needed to get out in the rain to lock up my bike and put the ladders away safely.
Still we had windows to try to get down (very old house) and I had to convince my hubby not to board up a window on the porch; I had to pick things up off the basement floor because it can get very humid or damp in heavy heavy rains... etc etc. etc.
Went to bed on Saturday night and the storm was starting already. Turned out that I hadn't done the one obvious and fairly easy thing that would have saved me a lot of headaches and backaches today. I didn't roll up all of the rugs and floor coverings that I have in the basement. The wind wasn't too bad, but we got socked by the rain I guess. The floor wasn't damp or humid, WE HAD A FRICKING FLOOD. When I woke up in the morning --7:40 am -- I found my hubby shoveling water off the floor into buckets.
I got the snow shovel and we started shoveling. Got me son down there to help pretty quickly (when I realized that my hubby wasn't going to call him but was expecting him to understand that his duty was to help). None of that pride for me - I prefer the open nagging with a good dose of guilt to boot. Ha ha. In the end, son helped a ton - more, in fact, than hubby. But, no doubt that we all had a long day.
28 August 2011
22 August 2011
. . . . . . . haiku
tiny creaky house
infinite jumping bouncing
sweaty teen seems giant
infinite jumping bouncing
sweaty teen seems giant
p.s. showed this to L and he laughed
20 August 2011
L is witty ??
So, I was driving my son to a Dr.'s appointment and at a stoplight somebody behind us beeped. He got a bit bent out of shape and said "F_ _ _" and "A_ _ hole" as he complained about the driver.
Well, I reacted and warned him not to become one of those jerks (you know, the kind who take everything too seriously when they drive). I said something like, "some men act like the steering wheel is an extension of their penis." Of course, that got his attention. "What?"
I said, "Yes. That expression is often used about certain men who are aggressive behind the wheel."
Actually, I don't think he let me get the whole sentence out before he said, "If it were an extension of your penis, you wouldn't twist it that way."
Ha ha. That shut me up.
But, seriously, folks - later I got back to the point... I pray that no son of mine ever becomes a jerk behind the wheel... And I was able to make my point with L. about how unproductive it is to drive with an attitude. Fingers crossed.
I wasn't able to make it through that second conversation without a joke from L. But I deserved it. I said that I had been surprised or worried that he would use "the F*** word" (and, yes, I actually said the F word in that phrase.) So then L had to tease me that the WHOLE point of using the phrase "The F word" is to avoid saying "the F word." Oh, darn it... Not funny here on paper. Sigh. But I'll remember what it is like these days to have a conversation with L... I'll remember, and that's the entire point.
It is a challenge, but he can be very witty and quick on his toes.
Well, I reacted and warned him not to become one of those jerks (you know, the kind who take everything too seriously when they drive). I said something like, "some men act like the steering wheel is an extension of their penis." Of course, that got his attention. "What?"
I said, "Yes. That expression is often used about certain men who are aggressive behind the wheel."
Actually, I don't think he let me get the whole sentence out before he said, "If it were an extension of your penis, you wouldn't twist it that way."
Ha ha. That shut me up.
But, seriously, folks - later I got back to the point... I pray that no son of mine ever becomes a jerk behind the wheel... And I was able to make my point with L. about how unproductive it is to drive with an attitude. Fingers crossed.
I wasn't able to make it through that second conversation without a joke from L. But I deserved it. I said that I had been surprised or worried that he would use "the F*** word" (and, yes, I actually said the F word in that phrase.) So then L had to tease me that the WHOLE point of using the phrase "The F word" is to avoid saying "the F word." Oh, darn it... Not funny here on paper. Sigh. But I'll remember what it is like these days to have a conversation with L... I'll remember, and that's the entire point.
It is a challenge, but he can be very witty and quick on his toes.
16 August 2011
Saw a great play
The play runs through Sept. 4 and I'm including a review - (This one is posted on a website for actors called "Backstage".)
Henry V
The Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Malcolm X & Dr. Betty Shabazz Memorial and Educational Center
Reviewed by Ron Cohen AUGUST 11, 2011
After a hiatus of nearly two years, the 12-year-old, award-winning Classical Theatre of Harlem is back in the game with a high-octane, wonderfully entertaining production of "Henry V." A 15-member cast brings to rambunctious life Shakespeare's tale of the youthful king who in the 15th century brought unparalleled glory to England on the battlefields of France. Ty Jones, now the organization's producing director, takes on the title role and delivers a splendidly spoken, multilayered portrait of a brilliant leader graced with innate intelligence that can give way to warlike ferocity as well as inform his genius for inspiring his subjects. And when required, as in his courting of the French Princess Katherine, he can vibrate with romantic charm.
Director Jenny Bennett helms the proceedings with bold theatrical savvy. Her stylized depictions of the battles of Harfleur and Agincourt are models of well-conceived economic staging. She uses the wide-open playing space, bordered on three sides by the audience, almost like a gymnasium, which her actors inhabit with athletic prowess. Most of them take on multiple roles, switching characterizations without missing a beat, giving both language and action their due.
Particularly notable are the comic turns by Carine Montbertrand as the nattering Archbishop of Canterbury, the rascally soldier Nym, and the giddy Alice, attendant to Princess Katherine. In contrast are the gravitas lent the French king by Stephanie Berry and the affecting anti-war sentiments expressed by Paulo Quiros as Michael Williams, a soldier caught up unknowingly in a debate with the disguised Henry. There are also solid contributions from Glenn Gordon as Pistol, Lelund Durond as Bardolph, and Warren Jackson as Fluellen, although the Caribbean dialect Jackson adopts for the Welsh captain is a bit jarring. The plum role of the Chorus is smartly divvied up among the company.
Costume designer Rachel Dozier-Ezell has dressed the cast in numerous takes on basic black, while a variety of clever off-and-on costume pieces help identify the actors' quick changes of character. Colin D. Young's lighting and Patricia Ju's sound design assist greatly in setting the shifting scenes and heightening their emotional content.
In the rush to get through the abbreviated yet still hefty text within the 90 minutes promised by the program (not quite achieved at the performance reviewed), the thread of storytelling sometimes gets lost. The play's panoramic sweep and crowded cast of characters are probably as much to blame as anything. Yet the production never loses its hold on the audience, from the moment the cast enters for about 10 minutes of warm-up exercises to the final words of the Chorus. Watching the show is like being courtside at a great basketball game. And the big plus is that you get to hear some of Shakespeare's most exhilarating language as well.
Presented by the Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Malcolm X & Dr. Betty Shabazz Memorial and Educational Center, 3940 Broadway, NYC. Aug. 10–Sept. 4. Wed.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 3 p.m. (No performances Sat., Aug. 27.) (212) 352-3101, (866) 811-4111, www.theatermania.com, or www.classicaltheatreofharlem.org.
Henry V
The Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Malcolm X & Dr. Betty Shabazz Memorial and Educational Center
Reviewed by Ron Cohen AUGUST 11, 2011
After a hiatus of nearly two years, the 12-year-old, award-winning Classical Theatre of Harlem is back in the game with a high-octane, wonderfully entertaining production of "Henry V." A 15-member cast brings to rambunctious life Shakespeare's tale of the youthful king who in the 15th century brought unparalleled glory to England on the battlefields of France. Ty Jones, now the organization's producing director, takes on the title role and delivers a splendidly spoken, multilayered portrait of a brilliant leader graced with innate intelligence that can give way to warlike ferocity as well as inform his genius for inspiring his subjects. And when required, as in his courting of the French Princess Katherine, he can vibrate with romantic charm.
Director Jenny Bennett helms the proceedings with bold theatrical savvy. Her stylized depictions of the battles of Harfleur and Agincourt are models of well-conceived economic staging. She uses the wide-open playing space, bordered on three sides by the audience, almost like a gymnasium, which her actors inhabit with athletic prowess. Most of them take on multiple roles, switching characterizations without missing a beat, giving both language and action their due.
Particularly notable are the comic turns by Carine Montbertrand as the nattering Archbishop of Canterbury, the rascally soldier Nym, and the giddy Alice, attendant to Princess Katherine. In contrast are the gravitas lent the French king by Stephanie Berry and the affecting anti-war sentiments expressed by Paulo Quiros as Michael Williams, a soldier caught up unknowingly in a debate with the disguised Henry. There are also solid contributions from Glenn Gordon as Pistol, Lelund Durond as Bardolph, and Warren Jackson as Fluellen, although the Caribbean dialect Jackson adopts for the Welsh captain is a bit jarring. The plum role of the Chorus is smartly divvied up among the company.
Costume designer Rachel Dozier-Ezell has dressed the cast in numerous takes on basic black, while a variety of clever off-and-on costume pieces help identify the actors' quick changes of character. Colin D. Young's lighting and Patricia Ju's sound design assist greatly in setting the shifting scenes and heightening their emotional content.
In the rush to get through the abbreviated yet still hefty text within the 90 minutes promised by the program (not quite achieved at the performance reviewed), the thread of storytelling sometimes gets lost. The play's panoramic sweep and crowded cast of characters are probably as much to blame as anything. Yet the production never loses its hold on the audience, from the moment the cast enters for about 10 minutes of warm-up exercises to the final words of the Chorus. Watching the show is like being courtside at a great basketball game. And the big plus is that you get to hear some of Shakespeare's most exhilarating language as well.
Presented by the Classical Theatre of Harlem at the Malcolm X & Dr. Betty Shabazz Memorial and Educational Center, 3940 Broadway, NYC. Aug. 10–Sept. 4. Wed.–Sat., 8 p.m.; Sat. and Sun., 3 p.m. (No performances Sat., Aug. 27.) (212) 352-3101, (866) 811-4111, www.theatermania.com, or www.classicaltheatreofharlem.org.
15 August 2011
I doubt my doubts...
I have so many doubts about life.
I doubt my values.
I doubt my doubts.
I don't believe in anything. (Me, 1987)
Wow, I remember a few years ago in a conversation with my sisters about ... about "faith". That's probably the best way to put it. It was one of those "how did we turn out so different" moments. I always just kind of assume that my sisters and I are "on the same page" in terms of basic vision of life, the universe and everything. But, I think that day I surprised them a bit by calling myself an agnostic --and my interpretation of my state is a bit stronger than the normal "agnostic"-- I see myself as a person with no faith. I don't even have the faith of the atheist.
So, when I found this phrase in something I wrote back in 1987, it just confirmed that this inability to experience any faith dates pretty far back in my development.
But - then again - I think that religion is programmed into people; it's related to our need to see patterns in things. We see significance in events and assign them meaning. So, even me - I have my superstitious behaviors.
I make wishes whenever I see a digital clock that reads exactly 11:11... Really? (I say to myself) Is this some sort of magic that entered our universe only with the invention of the digital clock? I know! In a predictable cosmic pattern, the last Leprochan (how DO you spell that?). . .
Anyway, the last leprocan died when the first digital clock came on the market. Because, under Newton's other laws, potential matter (a.k.a. "magic") can neither be lost nor augmented, it makes sense that new forms of wishes must appear in critical junctures of our history.
Then, this morning I woke up and remembered a dream. I dreamt that the downstairs bathroom was destroyed (the toilet and the sink lay on the floor). Instead of ignoring the dream, I acted on it. I decided it meant I had better clean the upstairs bathroom. ha ha. I can laugh - should laugh - am laughing. But, I actually cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Not with any sense of urgency... but
I doubt my values.
I doubt my doubts.
I don't believe in anything. (Me, 1987)
Wow, I remember a few years ago in a conversation with my sisters about ... about "faith". That's probably the best way to put it. It was one of those "how did we turn out so different" moments. I always just kind of assume that my sisters and I are "on the same page" in terms of basic vision of life, the universe and everything. But, I think that day I surprised them a bit by calling myself an agnostic --and my interpretation of my state is a bit stronger than the normal "agnostic"-- I see myself as a person with no faith. I don't even have the faith of the atheist.
So, when I found this phrase in something I wrote back in 1987, it just confirmed that this inability to experience any faith dates pretty far back in my development.
But - then again - I think that religion is programmed into people; it's related to our need to see patterns in things. We see significance in events and assign them meaning. So, even me - I have my superstitious behaviors.
I make wishes whenever I see a digital clock that reads exactly 11:11... Really? (I say to myself) Is this some sort of magic that entered our universe only with the invention of the digital clock? I know! In a predictable cosmic pattern, the last Leprochan (how DO you spell that?). . .
Anyway, the last leprocan died when the first digital clock came on the market. Because, under Newton's other laws, potential matter (a.k.a. "magic") can neither be lost nor augmented, it makes sense that new forms of wishes must appear in critical junctures of our history.
Then, this morning I woke up and remembered a dream. I dreamt that the downstairs bathroom was destroyed (the toilet and the sink lay on the floor). Instead of ignoring the dream, I acted on it. I decided it meant I had better clean the upstairs bathroom. ha ha. I can laugh - should laugh - am laughing. But, I actually cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Not with any sense of urgency... but
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