arts and crafts

And the gold dust fell softly..quietly. My movie season has begun. I watched Richard Jenkins in The Visitor the other night and it was a beautiful performance. Understated, reserved, a smidgen of loneliness and deep. Just like a college prof oughta be. I love this guy. He is always consistent, really funny when the time calls for it and has had a lovely career. It’s nice those others who aren’t an actor-type might discover his films and treat themselves to some good, solid stuff. As I said last year, it is often the whispers that end up tougher for a thespian than the tour de force blasters. And, oh yeah, I did it! The impossible happened. Yep, Mama has watched a silly comedy. I had to...Downey was nom’d! I must admit, I laughed a little. Okay, okay..I laughed a few times. He was very funny but I still say Nolte stole the film. And Ben Stiller’s guns were definitely worth the four bucks. The fleshy ones, people. Not the AK’s.

I am looking forward to seeing all of the Best Pictures and am having a ball gearing up for our 4Th Annual Oscars in the Ozarks . Who knew it would become the party of the year? Well, I guess I am pushing the truth just a wee bit, but still, where else can ya win a fistful of of ballot-pool dollars, an irreverent door prize valued at no less than five big ones, laughs, booze and a priceless keepsake party favor..all for the one low price of a cheese platter? At any rate, it sure beats sitting at home on your plump rear end, watching it all by your lonesome, tipsy, embittered and pondering why-it-never-happened-for-you. Wait a second, that was me in 1991 before my boys came along. And thank goodness, their golden gay selves did!

Yes, the hubby and I look forward to it every year and underneath all the silliness and idolatry, it really is about the art and the precious gift of cinema, and not the “best” of anything. It is the one time o’ year, when we can just mellow out over this big, bad crazy world and bathe or right lobes in the art of acting, the grand epic of story and light, and in my case, the cathartic spillage of excess emotion. Yeah, that's me alright. A big ole drama queen with the water works gene. Hey, it’s my best, most therapeutic sob of the year. It gets me all cleared out to deal with the other 11 months of reality T.V. I have to face. Being a Fitzgerald fan, I can not wait to see his little Benjamin Button short story come to life. Since he spent some agonizing years out in Hollyweird trying to find his center through the scotch and all the cutthroats, I am sure he would roll around in that coffin of his, if he knew what a dough making success it has become. Ah..the ironies of life, Mr. F. And it was helmed by the guy who brought us Seven. Who knew?

Yes, Big Daddy is armed with his X-Acto blade and foam core, poised to breathe some life into my brain-warped ideas and loony inspirations. Thank goodness, we have an artist in the fam, or I’d be up crappo creek without him, folks. I'm sure glad I married a Danny Kaye instead of a Brett Favre, for sure. Our girls are also excited to be a part of it per usual. W.’s already fighting me over wanting to watch all the higher than PG-raters. Nope, says Ma. I bribe them with candy to stay in their rooms...it works, too! (Thank the stars for Dum-Dums!) Poor kid only scored one nominee- WALL-E. And they are fast at work picking out what shoes they will step into with their glittered couture. Oh, alright..their WalMart 50% off specials from last years clearance rack. Hey, I’m a stay-at-homer on a budget, what's a gal to do? When one of them grows up and gets to go to the real show and win one of those suckers, they’ll make up for it. And I am most certain they will have their Mama Rose right there watching. First row. Front and center.

the iceman cometh

the golden nod

CLICK HERE for noms!

air and simple gifts

The inaugural was perfecto. My hubby and I sat with our whiny, wiggling three year old.."Mommy, but you promised me you'd play the Princess Memory Card game! Turn this off!" and watched history being made. Elizabeth Alexander highlighted the inaugural with her poetic splendor and Aretha got it going on with song. John William's quartet piece was perfect, laced with a bit of Copeland, (my fave..played as me and the ole ball and chain walked down the aisle after getting hitched)...and to see a Jew, an Asian, an African-American and a Latina bring it's notes to life moved me beyond measure. That's America, friends!

Dr. Lowery was fab and his words were especially poignant. Just to think...shoulder to shoulder he stood with MLK himself, and on this sunny, crisp, beautiful day in January, after 87 long years on this old ball of rock..got to see everything he's dreamed of and thought he'd never be able to see in his lifetime. Don't even get Mama going on Obama and his magnificent speech. Oh, hallelujah...to have an orator again...it gets this old gal all verklempt. And was I the only one blubbering? I looked for my pal, Jesse, but couldn't find him. I knew he'd be right there with me. I told my hubby if that were his bespeckled self, standing with his hand on Lincoln's 148 year old Bible, no less than 2 million peeps whooping and hollering, I'd be snotting up a storm. Oh, well, I guess that's why I never went into politics. Emotional basket case.

Yesiree, ladies and gents, our new and genuine Mr. President looked hip and cool from head to toe sitting down to chow on his duck breast with cherry chutney and herb roasted pheasant while I munched on some leftover spaghetti and a slice of wheat bread. Oh, yeah..and one tiny slurp of lime Perrier since W. drank it all last night. Blast her. Ms. Michele, all newly birthday-ed, was simply divine in that gold number (just in time for Oscars!) and her munchkins were cutie-patooties in their fashions. Oh, what a glorious morning, and what a red, white and blue Grey Goose fete it will be as the lucky few get to dance and sparkle their way through the Balls. Wish I could be there, but Geez has a closing shift tonight. Bummer.


P.S.) And no, I didn't leave Mr. Warren out of my commentary by mistake.

dr. strangelove

the pulse of morning

by MAYA ANGELOU

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no more hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out today, you may stand on me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
Come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the stone were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sings and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African and Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They hear. They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

Today, the first and last of every Tree
Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside me, here beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers--desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot ...
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am the Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours--your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, and if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
The day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister's eyes, into
Your brother's face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

buh-bye

the rising

What a long eight years it's been. And at times, what a Mr. Toad's wild one. 2,290 days ago, I was looking at a crème brulee with a candle in it, running smack dab into my forties..and a wee, drunken Lilliputian was sitting on my shoulder talking up motherhood ever so faintly in my ear. I listened. I went for it. And it was the best thing I ever did. Had I known that my abs would wave goodbye and my décolletage would go from Northern slopes to a high def avalanche, I might have reconsidered. But ya gotta take the good with the bad, I guess. I went on to pick up some major stakes, became a home owner for the first time, got some of that there health care, and hey, I even bought myself a Honda! Yeah, our country may have gone to hell in a hand basket for the last almost-decade or so, but Mama had some pretty good stuff coming her middle-aged way. Thank goodness I had an empty bank account and avoided Wall Street, also insisting on staying within my measly price point and a 30 year fixed on a cozy two boudoir or things mighta been a little bit different.

Now another birthday's headed my direction and another kid is looking at school. It flies, my friends..it truly does fly. We have to enjoy it while it's happening, and yes, set reasonable 2009 goals, of course..but I'm learning it's more about the unmarked side roads..the wrong turns and even those pesky potholes than it is about that checkered flag. The magic in my life has been soft and quiet..not a lot of bang, but deep and solid, and for that, I am thankful. Speaking of flying...seeing that miracle unfold on the Hudson for all those folks aboard that aluminum bird was a great way to start the year off, huh? New beginnings in leaders, second chances at life....it's not every day a man is faced with a single moment in which everything he's learned, all that he's invested in his passion, his calling...is poised on a razor's edge and put to the ultimate test. A time when focus, control and cajones are mandatory. It is then that he rises to the occasion, while sharing a fate with those he's never met and goes and changes the destiny for every last single one of 'em with his big, bad self. Way to go, Sulley.

Yes, we have our heroes. Some on the front pages, some not. And I'm gonna sit back and revel in that today and tomorrow...then it's back to work. We have to believe that things will improve before they ever will begin to. I sure wish Dr. King could see all those cold toes that are gathering around the Monument right now. It would make him smile for sure. This morning, over Cheerios, I introduced my oldest to just who he was and what he did. That is definitely one of the best parts of being a mom..getting to share all the basic life stuff/info/history that we take for granted..that sometimes we forget to think about, to ponder..to honor. It makes us stop for a sec to try and put it into basic terms for a five year old brain to absorb; yet at the same time awakens in us a purity of thought, a sincerity of heart that is pretty easily covered in this day and age with a stinkin' thinkin' coat of armor. Yes..we've come a long way, baby. And we still have a long way to go. But for today, I feel darn proud...very proud of this nation and all us peeps punching the clock and shacking up within her borders.

Here's to a new year, new beginnings...to remembering just what it took to get this far, and to us ordinary folks for being a little bit heroic in our own humble way to help change things for the better and move it forward. And here's to the lucky bastards that really have connections and get to see The Boss, up close and personal, belting it out with that choir on the ivory steps of the Memorial. Dang.

the fresh prince & uncle fester

on the rail

...."we are here today not simply to pay tribute to our first patriots but to take up the work that they began. The trials we face are very different now, but severe in their own right. Only a handful of times in our history has a generation been confronted with challenges so vast. An economy that is faltering. Two wars, one that needs to be ended responsibly, one that needs to be waged wisely. A planet that is warming from our unsustainable dependence on oil.

And yet while our problems may be new, what is required to overcome them is not. What is required is the same perseverance and idealism that our founders displayed. What is required is a new declaration of independence, not just in our nation, but in our own lives - from ideology and small thinking, prejudice and bigotry - an appeal not to our easy instincts but to our better angels.

That is the reason I launched my campaign for the presidency nearly two years ago. I did so in the belief that the most fundamental American ideal, that a better life is in store for all those willing to work for it, was slipping out of reach. That Washington was serving the interests of the few, not the many. And that our politics had grown too small for the scale of the challenges we faced.

But I also believed something else. I believed that our future is our choice, and that if we could just recognize ourselves in one another and bring everyone together - Democrats, Republicans, and Independents, north, south, east and west, black, white, Latino, Asian, and Native American, gay and straight, disabled and not - then not only would we restore hope and opportunity in places that yearned for both, but maybe, just maybe, we might perfect our union in the process."

~ Barack Obama, Philadelphia- January 17, 2009

grog and blog

Lord knows, I'm over 18. And I swim like a fish. And when given the opportunity...j'adore sitting on my rump at the keyboard. Me thinks I found the perfect job down under. Hey, I've been out of the workforce going on almost six years now and Big Daddy needs some help bringing home the bacon. It would be awfully nice if I could do my share by providing 100,000 bucks of that tasty fatback. I better hit Target though and see if they have one of them there swimming body-girdle suits as I wouldn't want to be confused with any of the Humpbacks or Pilots splashing outside of that watery infinity wonder.

Yep, it's time to put a shrimp on that barbie for this ole bludger! You know what? Life's short. Make it two.

See ya soon, Waynold!

an emperor in winter

One year ago today, life was a little different. After coming off a lonely and early New Year's Eve, the kids and I waited. We watched and we waited for almost six weeks for Daddy to come home. He did, but just barely. And then all was followed by a long exhale and a February Christmas. My, what a flash forward it has been. If I had held a crystal ball and would have known that, once again, I'd share laughter around the tree with friends, see my girls set up a cookie tray for Santa with their father and sip bubbly with my family over a candlelit holiday meal...well, I might have ended up with a few less gray hairs and avoided those three new crows-feet beauties around my right peeper. Such are the joys and the pains of life, I guess. You don't know what's coming at ya, be glad you don't, and when it does..it is then you find out what you're made of. And I am absolutely certain of this- you find out just how much heart, sunshine and love surrounds you in your ordinary little life. And you never ever forget it.

I remember dragging our tinseled tree out back like a crazy woman and kicking it down the ravine. I remember the black quiet of all those nights, all 46 of 'em, and the crick I got in my neck as I watched my husband's chest, barely lifting with each tiny breath. Strangely enough, through all the outpouring of good, kindness and generosity from family, friends and even strangers..one of my deepest comforts was from Blockbuster. Yep, the big blue boy on the corner of Walnut and Vine. On the eve before the New Year, the children wanted to watch a movie and munch on popcorn and that is just what we did. Mama needed a salty distraction, even if it was only for an hour or so and that's when the three of us gals broke out a bottle of lemonade and went on our march with the penguins.

The tears quietly flowed as I listened to the velvet voice over of Morgan Freeman and I was profoundly moved by these amazing creatures..these weeble-wobbley flightless birds that swim like fish and dive like angels. Their strength and beauty..their story, I found truly inspirational. As I sat staring at the tube, with my tummy twisting from all that life was corkscrew pitching at me...the stark, white icy beauty of the Antarctic was like poetry at a time when I surely needed a stanza of it or two. It was quiet and fierce and magnificent. Some may find it odd, even chortle at a full grown woman finding a sort of salvation in this little being, but I did. Watching their struggles amidst a harsh environment and the unity and team player mentality of the colony just filled me, and in that time, I had a mentor of a sort. A four foot hero in a tux..the type of male who would sit on his old lady's egg for no less than four months, in temps of 75 below zero...keeping it warm, alive, just waiting for her special song (and a yummy regurgitated meal of silverfish). The only call of it's kind. The song that was theirs and theirs only. That stalwart, solid caliber of a guy was familiar to me. I was married to one down in the ICU. My kids and I watched thousands of these nifty creatures, band together, shoulder to shoulder, battling 190 mph winds, forming the intricate circling pattern..the special dance..that allowed time for all to have a chance to be in the warm center. Many in body, one in mind. Crossing miles and miles of frozen road..their resilience and determination..their can-do spirit was a perfect reflection of the power and vast potential that is innate within life itself. This small, yet majestic link in a grand chain that weaves itself through you and me..this crazy world and beyond. A symbol of faith and fight, proof positive that things can change, will change, and will always find the light in the darkest of darks. It is simply made that way. And it is up to us to plug ourselves into this mystical outlet, this absolute certainty..this profound truth and pulse of energy and watch the sparks fly.

It was through this beautiful black and white window..I looked, I learned and I listened, and for the first time in my life, I was able to grab my fear by the balls and choke it. My husband had his surgery the next day and successfully climbed one of the many Mt. Fugi's he would face on his long journey. It soon became serious again; however, as he started to fade shortly thereafter and that roller coaster continued until he finally pulled into the station and came back home to me.

Last year before the G. man got sick, my buddy, Tommy, who would be one of my rocks through it all, my medical consult and waiting room pal, my dear friend..so graciously volunteered to be a Santa to my girls. His beautiful beard was impeccably curled with love by his Mrs. Claus..his suit, the brightest and happiest of reds. On a cold evening, in his St. Nickiest of splendor, he visited..the peal of his sleigh bells emanating from our back deck, just a short four days before my husband would end up in the ER. I remember watching that video again not too long ago...how happy we all were. Cameras snapping and rolling..the delight and laughter of my baby girls. Little did we know that life would change on a dime. Just over a weekend, from martinis to mayhem..it would all suddenly be so very different. It wasn't the things, the this or the that of the season that made that one moment so special...just the tender golden joy on the faces of my girls when Santy handed them that candy cane. I will never forget it. And seeing G. smiling behind the video cam all seemingly healthy...well, we just never know, my friends, we just never know...

By the golden prayers of you and yours and all things good in the Universe, we were able to re-create that magic again this year, a couple of weeks before the holiday. And what a gift it was. Santa Thomas graced us with his jolly presence for a second time, dropping off a little somethin'-somethin' for the girlies...double checking to make sure he got their address change correctly before the Big Day. All those turns and fog can be challenging in a night's winter sky, you know. Once again, the visit was all things fab and seconds after he faded away into the darkness of the side yard, up in the black yonder, was a low-flying plane with..you guessed it...a blinking red light. Right there on her nosecone. My girls were slack jawed and G.'s eyes filled with tears. It was right then that I won that Power Ball I'd always wanted....like someone wrapped up every single thing in Tiffany's, times'd it by about a million..and then some. I hope your holidays were as special as ours and that your New Year unfolds all things glittered and sparkling for you and the ones you hold dear.

Happy, happy New Year, friends!

Our Christmas Story 2008
...and yes, I am well aware that my girls wore those red skirts to every single activity we did this season. Oy.