If you're intrested...

I worked in theatre as a stagehand for a long time. It was a job I enjoyed tremendously but could never really share with people outside theatrical circles. When befriending others outside that realm I would get a deer in the headlights look; no one understood what I did, it was too technical to describe. I'd get, "Oh that sounds really cool..." and then the person would murmur something about needing to find the bathroom and disappear. For a long time it bothered me, it's not like I could say I was a brain surgeon and get some degree of understanding. I would work 10-12 hour days; mostly weekends and some holidays; hanging/focusing lighting instruments; hefting road cases; moving scenery; operating lighting and sound console boards; and taping down miles and miles of sound/ lighting cable so no one would trip over it and break their necks. Not exactly equal to a 9-5 monday though friday job. I'd get dirty but I never minded it because it was fun. Stagehands aren't performers, they maintian the atmosphere on stage (lighting, sound, shifting sets and pieces, flying scenery in and out) and depending on the demands of the show it can be backbreaking work. If a stagehand has done his/her work properly the performance will be flawless.

I ran across a film that shows exactly what a stagehand does it's called "Sing Faster: The Stagehands' Ring Cycle". It is a one hour documentary about a production of Wager's Ring Cycle operas from a union stagehands' point of view with the entire film being shot from a backstage perspective. It gives the film viewer an accurate showing of what really goes into making a production work behind the big velvet drape. Although I never worked in opera, this film is an excellent example of what I used to do-complete with voice overs of "headset chat" (headsets worn by hands to communicate and listen for "cues" when to move stuff, when to bring the lights up/sound effects etc) by the stage managers calling cues, cursing and trying to work out unexpected technical difficulties. It made me happy that somebody, somewhere filmed the physically demanding lifestyle and cast light upon a crew of people who often get overlooked.
If you are curious, rent this film and if you have any questions please feel free to ask me.

My What a large drill you have....

Went to the dentist's office today for the first time since June of 1985. That's when my Dad cancelled my health and dental insurance. I've never been able to afford it before, now I can. I have been in a bit of pain recently. I thought I'd cracked a tooth-not so says Dr. Foxy Dental, I've just worn away the enamel. OK I'm in pain, am feeling horrid because I'm drooling (not by choice mind you-the righteous dude numbed my lip so he could drill me baby-hehehehe I break myself up sometimes LMAO) in front of Dr Studd Muffin with the dental MD behind his name. I vainly try to control my fear as I see grainy bits that used to be my teeth fly out of my mouth. Then the big NO NO occurs-I gleek (sometimes when you open your mouth those little droplets of saliva that fly out on a whim) right up onto his oh-so-cool-Ray Ban-tinted-plastic-Dr-eye cover thingies. Now I realize that being a dentist the man is probably gleeked upon quite a bit, I feel certain it doesn't phase him in the least. I however, am not accustomed to gleeking on complete strangers and want to run screaming from the office-doesn't happen though. I sit patiently staring up his nostrils, yes this is exactly how I want to spend my lunch hour. Although I'm sure my view was far better than his. We finish our afternoon interlude and I'm told that I need to make a few more apointments-yes-a few. Dr Foxy Dental will have to clean me up in two sessions. I'm at work now with a numb lip that makes me sound like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert's gang. Lesson to all those readers out there-GET YOUR TEETH CLEANED EVERY YEAR-do not follow my lead-Bad Bea Bad Bea!

Breakin' Monday Nite Blog Rule

Have you ever had the urge to go soak your head in one big-bad-assed bucket of water?

Great Big Sea Moment

A blast from the past!
I feel the need to start a sing a long ladies.
Sing with me, even if it's off key
have a good time and name this rhyme!!!!!



Here I go again
my heart's on the line
I'm willing to pretend one more time
I got some life to spend
on even rhymes
when I reach the end
will you,
will you,
be mine?

Bea's Top Ten This Week

1- Tough Enough-The Fabulous Thunderbirds
2- Boogie Shoes-KC and the Sunshine Band-gotta love the horn section-it kicks baby!
3- 500 Miles-The Proclaimers-ultimate song of devotion
4- I'm Gonna Getcha Good-Shania Twain
5- 25 or 6 to 4-Chicago-better horn section than KC and best played in the Battle Beetle so that the bass line vibrates up my legs
6- For Baby-John Denver-nothin' lovelier than "I'll walk through the rain by your side..."
7- You Win Again-The Bee Gees
8- Crazy Little Thing Called Love-Michael Buble-the little groan thingie he does *bangs head against desk*
9- Feelin' Good-Nina Simone-not about the harmony more about the soul behind the lyric-it SWANGS babies!!!!
10- Chances Are-Johnny Mathis-damn the man can croon!

Quote of the evening....

I am sitting here watching Mister Ron White, fabulously funny man and heard something that almost made me pee my pants, felt the need to share.

"You ever take a crap so big your pants fit better? Anybody ever do that..."

-from the DVD "They Call Me Tater Salad"

Burrito Bea

I have night terrors, unpleasant dreams where I usually wake up with my heart pounding, nervous sweat and an overwhelming desire to find safety. There have been several occasions where I've had entire conversations in my sleep and don't remember it. Odd the way a sleeping mind works. Anyway...I've had much on my mind lately and the dream trolls have made their presence known all week long.

This morning there was a twist. In half sleep I remember being lost in a wasteland; rocky terrain, twilight skies, big black shapes, rumbling noises, flames bursting from the cracked ground. I was trying to avoid a Big Ugly in the darkness...no gentle sleep fairy folk swooping around like fireflies in this neck of the woods. So great were my efforts to avoid impending confrontation that I rolled off my bed, landing with a resounding thudd onto the floor (See previous post, Mattress and the Bea-July 2005) at 4:17 am. Somehow I'd managed to wrap myself a la Burrito style in the comforter. Awkwardly I flopped on the floor like a landed fish trying to clear the dream and unravel my cotton/polyfill casing. My head hurt, I hit it on the nightstand on the way down, my shoulder throbbed and here I was all wrapped up with no salsa verde in sight. I broke out in a fit of giggles. Nothing like starting the day laughing!

Mid-Week Giggles

Thought we could all use a mid week pick-me-up. Children's Science Exam answers:

Q: Name the four seasons.
A: Salt, pepper, mustard and vinegar.

Q: Explain one of the processes by which water can be made safe to
drink.
A: Flirtation makes water safe to drink because it removes large
pollutants like grit, sand, dead sheep and canoeists.

Q: How is dew formed?
A: The sun shines down on the leaves and makes them perspire.

Q: How can you delay milk turning sour?
A: Keep it in the cow.

Q: What causes the tides in the oceans?
A: The tides are a fight between the Earth and the Moon. All water
tends to flow towards the moon, because there is no water on the
moon, and nature hates a vacuum. I forget where the sun joins in this fight.

Q: What are steroids?
A: Things for keeping carpets still on the stairs.

Q: What happens to your body as you age?
A: When you get old, so do your bowels and you get intercontinental.

Q: What happens to a boy when he reaches puberty?
A: He says good-bye to his boyhood and looks forward to his adultery

Q: Name a major disease associated with cigarettes.
A: Premature death.

Q: What is artificial insemination?
A: When the farmer does it to the bull instead of the cow.

Q: How are the main parts of the body categorized? (e.g., abdomen.)
A: The body is consisted into three parts---the brainium, the borax
and the abdominal cavity. The brainium contains the brain; the borax
contains the heart and lungs, and the abdominal cavity contains the
five bowels, A, E, I, O,and U.

Q: What is the fibula?
A: A small lie.

Q: What does "varicose" mean?
A: Nearby.

Q: Give the meaning of the term "Caesarean Section"
A: The Caesarean Section is a district in Rome.

Q: What does the word "benign" mean?'
A: Benign is what you will be after you be eight.

That Thing You Do

I cannot get this song out of my brain! Now I'm gonna have to go rent the movie!

Purity Test

OK S I feel like a complete dweeb... I'm 60.4% pure. Does this make me Snow White? A Nun? A Victorian Spinster??? LMAO In case, if anyone would like to take the Purity Test, just click on the Title Link above.

Karmic Astrology

I've decided to get back into doing charts again. I was wondering if anyone would be interested in helping me? I am not a predictive astrologer, I will not tell you what to do with your life or make choices for you. Karmic astrology works along the principle that our souls have a mission/purpose to fulfill. Utilizing a chart can help identify challenging areas and offer ways to create more ease of flow. Any information given to me will be kept in the strictest of confidence. If you're interested do not post the information-please e mail me or catch me on MSN with the following information:

Date of birth
Time of birth (rather important, the planets move every 4 minutes-if unknown I can do a rectification but it will take longer)
Place/City of birth

Thanks!!

Movie Reviews

Had a bit of a film fest this weekend, I'm loving Netflix and am not missing cable in the least. For those who don't know what Netflix is: it's an on line dvd rental company. You choose films, pay a certain monthly fee and watch as many as you'd like. The dvds are mailed to you in envelopes with prepaid postage so all that needs to be done is plunking the things back in the mail for returns.

This weeks films were:

Harvey-released in 1950 starring James Stewart-non colourized version-delightful classic about a man who befriends a 6 foot tall invisible rabbit-If you're into classics, this is a must see. Terribly clever story. Go rent it NOW just because Jimmy Stewart was a Stone Fox!

My Man Godfrey-released in 1936 starring Carole Lombard and William Powell-non colourized version-again in the Classics category. A "Pay It Forward" film made many moons before studly Kevin Spacey was a twinkle in his Daddy's eye. It's one of my favorite films, truly a lovely bit of work. Ladies getcha Kleenex out for this one.

Constantine-released in 2005 starring Keanu Reeves and Rachel Weiss-a film based upon DC/Vertigo comic book Hellblazer-loved the special effects but then again I'm a special effects geek so I can't really be impartial. Loved the flawed hero aspect. I wish I could've seen it on the big screen, if renting I would suggest the letterbox version so you don't lose the whole picture.

Kinsey-released in 2004 starring Liam Neeson supported by a very skilled cast-film based upon Dr. Kinsey's report on Sexual Behaviour in the Human Male-thought provoking film, the doctor and his associates turned the world on its ear when this report was published and thank God it was. The first major study of human sexuality was given a hostile greeting because it defied conventional society norms. Kudos to the man and his staff who dared to think outside the box on a global scale. I had some issues with Liam Neesn's haircut (sorry but the Flat Top isn't terribly flattering on him) and the script. I suspect some key scenes ended up on the cutting room floor, still it's worth renting.

Bea's Top 10 for the Week

Music Music Music...where would we be without those golden tones?

Stupid Girls-Pink
You're Beautiful- James Blunt
Tom Sawyer-Rush
Hung Up-Madonna
Dear God-Midge Ure
This Love-Maroon 5
3 am Eternal-The KLF
Ton Te Partiro-Andrea Bocelli
Hard Headed Woman-Cat Stevens
Cracklin' Rose-Neil Diamond

Faith

Lets drag this out and take a look at it. I may be opening a can of worms but be assured, I intend no malice.

It's an interesting word with a broad and varried history of definitions. Cultures present and past have gone to war over this one word. If coupled with truth it becomes a meaningful if not daunting powerhouse. In religious connotations it indicates a belief in God, Allah, Jehova, The Force etc. There are some who believe that God chose only them. Which begs the question if The Almighty wanted only one race, one culture, one true religion then why did He/She/It create so much diversity? I don't think a giant game of finger pointing and killing are the answers. I think somewhere down the line the message became convoluted. I've read many holy books, all are steeped in wisdom and contain truly breathtaking verse but I don't think they were meant to be taken literally. (This is my choice and not all would agree with me. I honor and respect other's religious beliefs) Whatever name you choose, I have an idea that The Almighty is so vast and powerful that we as human beings will never be able to grasp the depths. It is a word that runs parallel with conviction, a belief in something for which there is no definitive proof. Humans across the globe have it in many different forms; all worthy of respect. Faith is the ultimate gift; it helps us believe in the goodness of mankind; bears light on the dark night of the soul; carries messages of love and understanding; brings us hope; gives strength and courage to continue. It can't be bottled (except for some mighty fine single malt scotches-just kidding), packaged, sold or bought, yet we all have it in some shape or form. Some lose it, others find it and there are times when it's called into question. It's also a rather lovely female name.

Any thoughts?

Female Prayer

Got this from my Step Mom and was terribly amused. Thought I'd share it with y'all.


Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep
One who's handsome, smart and strong
One who loves to listen long
One who thinks before he speaks
One who'll call, not wait for weeks
I pray he's gainfully employed
When I spend his cash, won't be annoyed
Pull out my chair and opens my door
Massages my back and begs to do more
Oh send me a man who'll make love to my mind
Knows what to answer to "How big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end
And always be my very best friend.

Amen

Super Tuesday

I call tuesdays "Super Tuesdays" because it is the most intense day of the week for me. I have to put on my Supa Bea Cape, bring on my A Game and make it look easy, outwardly nothing is ever a problem. I'm like a duck on water; effortlessly skimming along but my feet are moving at warp speed. Super Tuesdays are filled with meetings which means I run my butt off all day long. Big wigs invade the office and I see more suits than a Brooks Brothers outlet during a sale. I dreaded going into work this morning knowing that I would spend the better portion of the day making coffee, replacing dry erase markers, solving data cable issues and juggling food orders for 50+ people. Add into the mix the usual office running routine; answering phones, sweet talking tempermental copiers, bandaging paper cuts, making travel arrangements for two district managers who have difficulty making up their minds.

Yes it's difficult to choose between a Courtyard by Marriott or should we go for the Hilton? Oh and did you make sure I'm flying Southwest, no I need a later flight please redo that and make sure I get my frequent flier miles OK? I need an aisle seat this time, God last time I was wedged in a center seat like a sardine for 3 damned hours. And I need a rental car, here's my Avis number. Did I tell you I need this by 3 pm today?

Your wish is my comand, allow me to wave my magic wand and solve your problems was my thought as I strolled through the parking lot in the cold amber dawn. My reverie was disturbed by a rhythmic "pffitttt...pffitttt...pffitttt" following me into the building. I hit the elevator button and a woman stood next to me chatting on her cell phone-nothin' unusual with that. I still had no clue what the friggin' noise was and step into the box that takes me skyward. I turn to ask the woman what floor she needs and notice her footwear. Women tend to notice other women's shoes...it's a chick thing. Today, of all days, this woman was wearing mule slippers, leopard print mule slippers...with a $700 dark blue wool power suit. It took every ounce of my being to not stare at the silliest sight I think I've ever seen. The floors ping by and I try to focus on something not funny, Ghandi, a serious case of The Clap, my Mother's funeral..look at the ceiling, count sheep...nothing is working and I look into the mirrored doors, The Leopards are still there...goading me into full blown disarray. I begin to pray, "Dear God, I know You have a Divine sense of humor but please get me off of this thing before I become a giggling idiot. I do not want to disgrace myself in front of a lady lawyer." Thankfully we glide to a halt on my floor. I step out and leave The Leopards to continue on their journey. I wait for the doors to close and then a flood of giggles rushes out of me, I'm sure the entire building heard me losing it. What a way to start the day.

2006 Beazie Awards

I'm sittin' here with The Earl (that would be Earl Grey tea not a strange British nobleman-now that I think of it a British nobleman would be rather nice to go along with the tea-but I digress). Since tomorrow is Valentine's Day, when we celebrate that great thing called Love, I thought I'd kick it off with a spin of my own.

A brief description of the Beazies: they are my Bea Thankful Awards where I recognize people who have impacted my life be it in a major or minor way. After a dark night of the soul last year it became clear to me that I had many things and people to acknowledge. Without them I would not be who I am today. To bastardize a quote from the movie Lord of the Rings-Return of the King-these people bow to no one, for the planet is a better place with them on it.

So it begins:

The Peter Gabriel-San Jacinto Award goes to Mighty LD. I hold the line for you bro and I got your back. Thank you for doing the same for me, no one could ask for a better big brother (I know you're not related to me but I still think of you that way)

The "What are you, high?" Award goes to Steph-I am humbled by your wisdom and support. Thank you for keeping it real.

The Long Distance Shout Out Award goes to Mes Canadiennes (thought I'd shock you and do it in your second language-sorry about the accents I don't know how to do them on a Mac)
Mademoiselle Sheri et Mademoiselle Sara-Vous etes tourjours a mon coeur. Merci de votre amour et le soutenez. Je ne sais pas ce que je ferais sans vous. Vous etes tres belle. Les mots n'expriment pas ma gratitude. Le monde est un meilleur endroit avec vous dans lui.

Thanks and Love in the Dali Llama Style Award goes to my sisters Bren-llama and Kelly-llama
I am blessed with your presence. I may not always agree with you (like that time Kelly took my pic in the church when I was all kinds of hung over) but I respect you both.

Mom, I love you. I miss you. Thank you for giving me life, being so selfless, giving me strength and courage.

Bill Callahan-Thank you for your generosity, love and care.

The Crazy Lads at work, I thank you for providing me with hours of ceaseless amusement, for the breakfast yummies and for buying me lunch.

Thanks to every school teacher I've ever had, you opened up so many new worlds, the debt I owe you is great.

Monday Musings

Got the Bug free of snow and ice this morning thanks to the kindly property management folks. They let me use one of their shovels.

Went to Staples and got a pic of myself scanned so that I could change my profile pic. It's me, I was 4 years old. It was taken at my grandparents house; the occasion, our birthday (I'm a twin-she's 19 min older than me). I'm in mid chew (giggle). We were eatting ice cream cake. Mom always used to get us one because baking in the summer always heated up the house. Wrestled a good portion of the day trying to figure out how to get the pic onto my blog. Took a nap and will be heading out shortly.

Hazy Shade of Winter

Yep, I'm here with Paul and Art, drinking my vodka and lime thinking it will take an act of God to free the Beetle. I cleared the snow from my trusty steed; made sure there was no damage and tried to shovel 3 feet (94 centemeters) of snow that has been piled behind my car with an ice scraper. Not one of my most brilliant moments and I stopped, realizing the futility of my actions. These are the times when I wish that I was a guy built to bench press a Volvo and take on an any pro wrestler within a 5 mile radius. Back to reality, I am a woman and have to accept the fact that I designed for something else. Ain't no way this bumbling Bea is getting to work tomorrow unless an army of garden gnomes mysteriously appears bearing a truly awesome amount of snow removal gadgets. Somehow I don't see that happening, do you?

Moving on...

Earlier, the property management folks brought chain saws and wielded implements of destruction, removing the three fallen trunks. Thankfully there was no damage to any vehicle.

Maybe I'll give the snow removal another go, this time with a 9 inch skillet. Where there's a will, there's a way.

Winter Wonderland

It's snowing. I went out onto my balcony to enjoy the stillness that only snow can bring. That serene quiet that muffles everything and makes you think you're the only living being on the planet. Powdered trees, light reflecting softly through the blowing whiteness....this serene moment is disturbed, there is a snap, followed by a groan...the big tree right in front of my apartment has just fallen under the weight of the snow and landed on my car. I shit you not.

Shout Out to Miss Sara

I'd like to send a big shout of thanks to Miss Sara for sending this to me. Although I haven't reached the Big Four-Oh yet, this put some things into perspective and made me giggle. I wanted to share the humor with my blog buddies. This was written by Andy Rooney.

Enjoy!

*******

As I grow in age, I value women who are over 40 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.
Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40.
Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk or if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 40+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress. Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here's an update for you: Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage, why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage.

Good Advice

I am deeply honored to have such a close knit community of friends. I know I've found a friend if they can be honest without killing me. A friend is someone who has the incredible ability to pick you up out of the mud, dust you off and gently shoves you forward, never leaving your side on the journey of life. I've been rather bitchy lately and while conversing with Sheri on MSN she gave me an excellent piece of advice. I don't remember the exact verbage but I howled with laughter. It went something like this:

"Mentally you're screwed up, embrace it. No one is perfect, get over it."

I'm workin' on it Sher. Thanks Chicken. LOL

Beware! - Not For The Guys

Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary defines prank as:
Pronunciation: 'pra[ng]k
Function: noun a mildly mischievous act : a ludicrous act

It rained men today but it was an unusual shower indeed. Yesterday, before departing the office, my boss CC and I were goofing around. Giddy with relief that the day was finally over we happily chatted in her office. Our girly talk was interrupted by The Saint (because he's got big teeth like Val Kilmer and it was the only thing I could think of at the time) who stopped by to drop off some paperwork. CC commented that he looked particularly fetching due to his heavy beard stubble-we began calling him Mister Five O'Clock much to his chagrin. CC and The Saint have known each other for over 10 years and constantly banter with each other. We then gushed about famous sexy five o'clocks that were our favs. He took it like a trooper and scampered out of her office before the estrogen level became unbearable.

8:00 am, I noticed the office was rather quiet but nothing out of the ordinary. Thursdays and Fridays are casual days for the staff and often the day starts later for them than it does for me. Not a huge deal. I make my tea enjoying the silence before the deluge of phone calls, "can you do this please...", copier jams and paper cuts. I stroll back to my desk having an International-Foods-Instant-Coffee-Flavor-of the-World-moment, mmmmmm tea's mighty fine, look down at the pile o'stuff I need to complete, glance up, Chowda's sporting a rather scruffy face this morning. Hmmmm interesting, go back to sorting Bea's stack.

Door bell rings, I buzz Miguel in-he's looking a bit unkempt in a manly man sorta way and for some reason keeps hovering around my desk asking me goofy questions and presents me with a bacon egg and cheese biscuit. "Your thursday morning breakfast surprise." he says

Grover strolls by an hour later and asks for an LCD projector. I'm stunned and don't quite know what to say to him. Normally he's clean shaven and Mister G.Q. today he's a dead ringer for Grizly Adams, minus the long flowing 70's Flower Child locks.

Lenny (Of Mice and Men-he's not too bright, but with a heart of pure gold-neither is this guy) comes in looking like a Cave-Man-Wanna-Be. I was amazed he wasn't dragging his wife around by her hair and carrying a wooden club.

Dave-a-reeno comes up and and asks for batteries looking all kinds of out doorsey. He left and I was sorely tempeted to bang my head against my desk...what was up with the guys and the unshaven thing?!!

Shewbie, studliest of the studlies, saunters up to my desk and I nearly drop the phone. His jawline rivals George Clooney's on a sleepy sunday afternoon. He stares at me, merry glint in his eye. It dawns on me that I've been had. The bastards! Getting together like a bunch of ladies at a sewing circle having a good gossip. They all decided to get one over on me and CC but they didn't know she was having an out of building experience so I got the brunt of their plot.

The Saint finally came clean and told me that he called all of his guys and asked them to come in unshaven. I laughed so hard I cried. CC was rather upset that she missed the five o'clock fun.

Office Music

I'm sitting here at my desk and I'm feeling a little Pete Townshend (All the Best Cowboys have Chinese Eyes-the name of the album-seriously I couldn't think up a name like that all by myself-well maybe I could under the proper influence-the Big 80's returns momentarily to Bea's blog)... I'm inspired to sing...

Slit skirts, Jeanie never wears those slit skirts
I don't ever wear no ripped shirts
Can't pretend that growing older never hurts.

Knee pants, Jeanie never wears no knee pants
Have to be so drunk to try a new dance
So afraid of every new romance

Late Night Ramble

"She pictures the broken glass... pictures the steam...she pictures the soul with no leaks at the seam... dreaming of Mercy Street..."

Got home from work. Felt like a giant gob of ICK...fell asleep... woke up in a Peter Gabriel kind of mood. Why is it that in the deep hours of the night the inner demons seem strongest? I have to be up before the sun tomorrow morning to make coffee or the lads at the office...yes I spent $10,000 and earned my BA so that I could make coffee "...don't look back, don't give up, pour yourself another cup..." and we head off into Mike and the Mechanics mode...the hits just keep rolling.

List Madness!!!!!

OK my friend Kathy just pegged me with this, so I'm passing it along to you folks!

1. What are your 4 favorite smells?
- Obsession for Men by Calvin Klein
- Bread baking in the oven on a cold day
- Borkum Riff pipe tobacco
- Downey Vanilla and Lavender fabric softener

2. Where were you born?
- a sleepy little town called Hershey, PA

3. Do you like vanilla or chocolate?
-both please with extra sauce on the side

4. Name music that makes you frisky?
-I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that we're not talking about craving the cat food right?
- Slave to Love- Roxy Music
- Sadness Part One- Enigma
- At Last-Etta James
- I Loves You Porgy- Nina Simone
- Shape of My Heart- Sting

5.What is your favorite breakfast food?
-blueberry pancakes however I'm not good with cooking breafast foods lol I generally have instant oatmeal.

6. You is your favorite writer?
-tough question, there are so many, tops would have to be Walt Whitman

7. What is your favorite book?
-Lord of the Rings trilogy

8. What are 4 of your favorite films?
- The Magnificent Seven (with Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen et al)
- To Kill a Mockingbird (always wished I could have a Dad like Atticus Finch)
- Shrek 2
- LOTR-Two Towers (wish Viggo Mortensen would enter my bedroom like he does in that scene in Helm's Deep-the hero shot-OH MY ovaries are exploding just thinking about it lol)

9. 3 Things you like about your job?
- it rains men at least once a day
- I interact with a lot of folks
- who could not gain Divine pleasure unjamming copiers and printers all day?

10. Name 2 of your biggest flaws.
- I can be stubborn
- Sometimes I take thing too literally

11. Name 4 things you're thankful for
- ice cream
- my Mom
- trees
- Bigelow Earl Grey tea

12. What is your favorite food?
-Italian

13. Do you prefer cats or dogs?
-I like them both.

14. What kind of car do you drive?
-2001 Lime Green VW Beetle-turbo baby!

15. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
- seated at an italian villa in Tuscanny with a gelato in hand contemplating picking olives

16. Name a celebrity that you're tired of hearing about:
-God there are so many I can't limit it to just one: Brittney Spears, Paris Hilton, Brangelina, Jennifer Anniston just to name a few

17. Name one actor you admire and another that you dislike:
- I admire Gergory Peck, he was an actor in the Golden Age of film and always potrayed characters with integrity and skill-the man never phoned in a performance

- I cannot stand Tom Cruise-sure to some he might be nice to look at but the man cannot act his way out of a brown paper bag-he plays the same character over and over and over again-somebody please get him off the screen

18. Name a goal that you have for yourself this year.
-Jesus Kathy why not ask me to create world peace while I'm at it lol-just kidding. Big goal for Bea this year: learning how to let go

19. If you could change one thing in history, what would it be?
- I would've stopped Senator Joseph McCarthy

20. What would be your dream career?
-astronomy-I can't imagine anything better than gazing through a telescope and seeing the unrivaled beauty of the night sky.

Forgot Something....

GO SEAAAAHAWKS!!!!!!!!!! I'm from PA but can't help but cheer for the underdogs.

Bit of Humor

I thought a little levity might be in order after the preceding posts, here goes:

Post Turtle President

While suturing a laceration on the hand of a 90-year-old man, the doctor asked his patient how he thought George W. Bush was doing as President.
The old man said, "Ya know, Bush is a post turtle."
Not knowing what the old man meant, the doctor asked him what a "post turtle" was.

He said, "Did you ever drive down a country road and come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top? You know he didn't get there by himself, he doesn't belong there, he can't get anything done while he's up there, and you just want to help the poor thing down. That's a post turtle."

B and C Part Three

In the crisp autumn air, Bea's junior year began and she geared up for another stay at The Shack. Over the summer the bond with C had become stronger and disturbing stories began circulating on campus. Rumors of C showing more favor to Bea; what was really happening at his house and why did they spend so much time together? For when one saw Bea, C was not far behind. What kind of relationship did they really have? Bea and C laughed at the rumors, it was no one's business what they did but they became very careful on campus and at The Coop. They made a habit of inviting guests wherever they went to dampen the gossip. To keep a lower profile Bea would park her car at The Shack (the 1974 Plymouth was easily spotted) and walk to C's house to give the impression that she was at home. When, in fact she was seated in C's living room with a plate of pound cake, mug of Ovaltine reading a book while he corrected exams in the study.

In that semester C opened a new, unexplored territory for Bea; the land of great music. He introduced her to Miles Davis, Prokoviev, Chopin, Handel, Sarah Vaughn, Glen Miller, Billie Holliday, Duke Ellington, Nina Simone, Verdi, Puccini, Beethoven, Mozart, Noel Coward, Cole Porter and the Gershwins. He had two rooms in his house stacked with music and books, it was heaven.
One evening, as they sat in the kitchen C said, "I want you to hear to something, it's a surprise. I think you'll really like it. Now close your eyes and listen carefully. I'll be back in a few minutes."
She sat with eyes closed, listening to the silence and then quietly music began. It enfolded her like a warm blanket. The glorious sound touched her soul yet she had no idea what the woman was singing about (Musetta's Waltz from Puccini's La Boheme). She was overwhelmed by the power and passion in the voices. What would move a person to burst forth in such a grand manner? It was so lovely and at that moment she realized the depth of her love for C. He'd taken the time, been patient (when it was a rock solid fact the man had an impatient streak that rivaled the mighty Mississippi), taught her the fine art of listening and understanding conversational subtext, opened his home and magnificent library, cooked amazing dishes, freely gave her tokens of affection, and looked after her in a way that no one else ever had. His generosity humbled and scared her. A life without him would be devistating. He'd become her rock, her sounding board, her confessor, her best friend, her love and he was 60. Age didn't matter but time did. For on the physical plane we inhabit, all things fade and pass. It is a harsh fact that once birth occurs, so must death. Rashly she vowed to channel every ounce of her will into keeping C young. No effort was too much, no sacrifice too great, if she focused, anything could be accomplished.

After semester finals, C proposed. The manner of his request was as unusual as their relationship. Bea, not being the brightest candle in the universe misunderstood and giggled nervously. There was an awkward silence. She asked if he was serious and he stammered, she could see the lie in his eyes as he told her it was a joke. They never spoke of it again.

The following year Bea graduated with a Bachelors degree. They discussed permanent living arrangements but he was not comfortable with this; neither of them knew how to explain their relationship with their respective families. It would get terribly complicated and possibly messy. It was agreed that they would write and phone and she would come up for visits on weekends. The phone bills were high but it was a happy time on New Street in those days.

From a distance, Bea worked diligently on keeping him young, but the slow advance of time cannot be undone. After he retired, C's family decided that it would be best if he moved closer to them, his mind was slowly fading. Bea's weekend trips became less frequent for she moved south and the commute to her beloved was much longer. She still kept writing and calling but it was not enough.

The last time she saw him, she did not recognize the man she once knew. His decline had been worse than she imagined, it broke her heart to leave him that day. Two months later she received a phone call from his cousin. C was dead and had been cremated as per his request, there was no memorial service, no buriel. Two days later Bea received a parcel. In the box, wrapped in an old flannel shirt that smelled faintly of his aftershave, was the orange marmalade stuffed cat with a note, penned in his hand, thanking her.



Here ends the tale of Bea and C

B and C Part Deux

There was a tragedy in Bea's second semester sophomore year. Sadly, Tipper the cat fell ill and slipped away. C was deeply saddened by the loss of such a good friend. For weeks he was miserable and his temper grew very short in those black days, he vowed no more pets. Bea gathered her grocery money and went on a quest to find a gift that would cheer her mentor and bring back the merry glint in his eyes. It began at the Lehigh Valley Mall, many shops ensured many options, and the shopping began. After perambulating through three quarters of the mall she finally found the ultimate cheer up gift, a stuffed animal! Now this was not the run of the mill stuffed toy, this was a gift of high quality. It was a cat that looked like a live cat, curled up, resting. It was so realistic that she stopped in her tracks, thinking that it was alive. This was the gift that C must have! Using the last of her food money she purchased this rather costly gift in the hopes that it would bring C out of the murky depths.
The following B & C night, after the evening snack, Masterpiece Theatre viewing, and Dunking Time (C would make warm Ovaltine and they would dunk Lorna Doone cookies in it. Crumbs flew as they discussed what they watched on TV) Bea cleverly excused herself to "use the bathroom" and placed the stuffed animal on the wing chair in the living room. The evening came to a close and Bea walked back to The Shack. Before drifting off to the land of Nod, the phone rang, it was C. He was deeply touched by the gift and giggled as he told her it scared the shit out of him. He wondered how a strange marmalade tabby had gotten into the house and realized it was a stuffed animal as he went to pick it up. Mission accomplished.
The next several months were financially difficult for Bea. Due to unexpected car issues things began to look quite grim. She'd been living on tuna helper (to this day she finds it difficult to eat any form of tuna) and souped up rice (instant rice with cream of mushroom soup mixed in). Her housemates began to worry about her health and expressed their concerns to C without Bea's knowledge. (She didn't find out the truth of the matter until 4 years after graduation)
On the bleakest of days, the phone rang, it was C, "Hey Bea, I need to run over to the Laneco to pick up a few bags of groceries couldya gimme a lift?"
No problem.
C handed her a list asking if she could get the items for him while he checked out the newest flannel shirts. (The store was like a grocery store and K Mart combined and C had a profound fondness for flannel)
She was delighted to help out and eagerly perused the aisles. They met at the check out counter and headed back to C's house with 8 bags of groceries. Now this may sound like a lot of food but C invited many students and faculty over to his lair and in between classes the driveway looked like a used car lot. He provided snacks and coffee/tea for all who entered, he was a generous host and notorious gossip.
Bea brought in the bags and heard him groan, "Oh shit, I didn't need another one of these. What was I thinking? Bea can you use this?"
Hell yes she could! Existing on minute rice and a 5 lb bag of potatoes could only last for so long!
By the time he'd finished going through all the bags, Bea had a large box full of food items. When she got back to The Shack she realized that C was truly a force to be reckoned with. It took one hell of a man to circumnavigate a stubborn woman's pride and present her with such a kind gift, without making her feel like the pauper that she was.

Finals loomed and one afternoon, in C's comfy kitchen Bea told him of her difficulty concentrating on drafting and studies. The Shack had become a mad house, kids were freaking out all over the place! Dogs and cats were sleeping together-it was insane. C understood her dilemma for focusing on Descartes, Kant and Socrates were quite mind bending without the frantic malestrom of housemates on the verge of intellectual breakdowns. He made her an offer she couldn't refuse. He would allow her to "move in" to his house for several weeks before finals. She had free use of his guest room, bathroom and kitchen. He asked her to be respectful of his wishes and be tidy. This offer was immense, for C was an intensley private person. Many had crossed his threshold for caffine and great conversation but it was a rule to always call first to get permission. He had no problem turning people away if he felt overbooked, over worked or too damned tired.

On "move-in day" she happily set up her drafting table next to his desk in the study and for several weeks they worked peacefully side by side, he on classwork and she on her drafting/studies. Something occured during the second week that astonished her. C was in the study banging away on his typewriter (he refused to purchase a computer-swearing that those machines were beyond him) and had just delivered a mug of Earl Grey to her as she tried to wrap her brain around Emmanuel Kant's brand of reason. The fact that he brought her a tea wasn't astonishing, they would often get hot bevvies for each other. The stunning fact was that he'd placed the right amount of sugar and 1/2 n 1/2 to her taste. Ingnoring the call of Kant, she surmised that C must have carefully observed her when she made her tea; for out of all the converstaions the topic of what they each put in their preferred hot bevvie had never come up. She knew he preferred black coffee in the mornings but switched to cafe au lait in the afternoons and evenings. It warmed her heart that he cared. It was a nice feeling that he stocked her brand of tea and didn't expect her to bring her own supply (she always had to bring her own tea whenever she went home for a visit). This gruff bear had allowed her space in his home so she could study and had turned visiting students away saying he was too busy to see them providing a buffer so she would have quiet time to concentrate. It was then that she realized how fortunate she was to have such a friend in Callahan.

That summer, when not working at HersheyPark (her most favored job on the planet) she would visit him on the weekends. They would go to the cinema, making sure they'd planned the run times of the films carefully so that they could zip out and see a second one right after viewing the first.
One evening at The Coop she almost choked on a french fry when he asked, "Bea, can you tell me who these California Raisins are? Are they a new rock group?"
She giggled and explained that they were a claymation gimick developed by the California Grape Growers to sell their produce on TV. Those clever marketing gurus had borrowed the Temptations "Heard it Through the Grapevine"; it was not on Billboard's top 10 list.
Another weekend they took a bus trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey. During the afternoon they walked along the boardwalk and ate cotton candy, listening to the kids playing and the tireless surf. C was an avid Craps player and Bea went along to play the slots. Late in the evening at the Taj, she grew tired of the plinking of the quarters and went over to watch C play. The rules of the game were beyond her comprehension, it was fun watching and listening to the silly things the rollers would say. One player crapped out and it was C's turn, instead of tossing the dice himself he handed them to Bea and told her to give it a shot. Not knowing what to do Bea tossed the dice with so much force that one of them accidently hit the stick man on the forehead. The crowd cheered, it was a great roll! She apologized profusely to the stick man for hitting him, he told her it was ok and handed her the dice again. She continued to roll, one of the other players told her she was "hot". She asked C to translate what that meant for surely she hadn't turned into Christie Brinkley overnight? He said that she was a lucky dice thrower which made her happy. She's never been lucky before, it was a nice feeling. Finally her time ended at the table, C handed her a large plastic cup filled with chips and asked her to go cash them in. He needed to use the restroom. Riding the crest of being lucky Bea dutifully walked over to the cashier and passed the cup through the metal bars. The cashier began to count out the amount of the chips and terror leapt into Bea's heart...the winnings came to a grand total of 5 thousand dollars! She'd never seen that much money in her life and that sick bastard had asked her to cash in a shit raft of ducats! C found her and she punched him in the arm, "Why didn't you TELL me it was going to be THAT MUCH CASH?"
C giggled, "Because you never would've done it. You won most of that for me, where would you like to eat?"
They had lobster at 3 am, and it was mighty fine indeed.

The Story of B and C - Part One

Once upon a time, when pterodactyls roamed the skies and wooden underwear was the rage, there was a young girl named BT. She had been sent to university in the Lehigh Valley to increase her skills, knowledge and broaden her horizons so that she would not experience the same fate as her mother. That is not to say her mother was not wise or loving, she worked hard to put all three of her children through higher schooling while their father, lost in greed, refused assistance of any kind. But that is another tale for another time. BT was not happy about leaving the farmlands that surrounded her home. In her mind there was nothing finer than listening to the wind whisper through the tall corn as she rode her bicycle on tree lined country lanes, gliding down the green hills listening to the birds (yes in those days she had thighs of steel) Sadly, the day came when BT left and began her new life among freshmen.

It is said that the freshman year is the toughest, for in that time there is much adjusting and awkwardness. BT adapted but made very few friends due to the fact that the university admitting board overbooked the enrollment and she was forced to live off campus at a seminary, to hang with the brothers so to speak. Luckily, her generous mother had given her The Scamp (a 1974 forest green Plymouth with a slant 6 engine that wouldn't quit) so that BT could commute to classes with ease and not be affected by bad weather. So BT began her schooling and learned the true meaning of "all nighters", chain smoking, bad eatting habits and the proper amount of caffine needed to keep a student running. She also learned the importance of certain classes; for example when a student was taking a class from a highly respected history professor is was not refered to as History of Europe is was refered to as, "I've got Dow at 8:00am this semester." or for art classes, "McGrath", and for theatre classes, "Callahan". It was a sign of respect for these instructors were the Intellectual Titans of the campus, the powerhouses of knowledge, people you didn't want to piss off while in their temple classrooms. Their wrath, scorn and dedication were legend. Stories of one of the Titans tossing a late student out of class were the fodder of every freshman's nightmares. BT had always been a lover of history and made the fateful decision to tackle a Dow class, this inspired awe in her fellow freshmen because they had not the courage to undertake the demands made by this professor. He did not tolerate tardiness and pushed his students to strain their brains...he busted balls. She finished his class with a B.
Encouraged with the flush of success she felt the need for a challenge, if she could handle a Dow, there would be no problem with a Callahan***. So second semester she enrolled in one of his courses and upon the first day of class her confidence flagged. The room was filled with the heady mix of Brute aftershave and the mellow smoke of unfiltered Winstons. A tall man, wearing a plaid flannel shirt and blue boot-like slippers (yes the kind you wear around the house) stood at the podium, a cloud blue smoke crowned his white haired head. His bi-focals were perched at the end of his nose and a lit cigarette was pinched between his fingers with the longest ash she'd ever seen. He gave a thoughtful glance as each student entered his temple of learning. He spoke and her jaw dropped. He bellowed, "OK you fuckers, I'm Callahan. Welcome to Public Speaking." You could've heard a pin drop in the stunned silence, no instructor had ever used that kind of language but it certainly got the attention of the students. BT was a bit worried; was she up for this kind of an adventure? A small voice in the back of her mind whispered, yes and she listened as he explained the syllabus, course reading and required submission of a journal...her mind skipped, did he just say submit a weekly journal? Yes, indeed he did. Inwardly she cringed, yes she kept a journal but allowed no one to read it and here was this old guy telling her she had to jot down observations of people and let him read it, this was going to be difficult. She stared at the top of her desk, no one was allowed to violate her private journal space...unheard of, cannot be done...get out of this class!!! the frightened voices shouted in her mind. "Yooo hoooo, what's your name sister?" brought her from the Plains of Fear and into the Mountains of Humiliation, The Callahan was addressing her. She listened to the silence and looked up, his face was about 6 inches from her nose, she flushed and gave him her name. He took pity on her and murmured, "It's all right. This is only the first class. My bark is worse than my bite, relax dear."
By the end of the instrucion her head was spinning.
"Hey can anybody give me a lift back to my house?" The Callahan bellowed
One of BT's classmates pointed at her and said, "She's got wheels."
How could BT refuse The Great Bear Callahan? It would be rude to say no, but what would she say to this man on the way to his house? Being painfully shy has its draw backs, especially when chatting with someone who was 40 years her senior. She was sure he didn't even know what MTV was!
Her worries were put to rest as they drove along the twisting roads he kept a stream of funny stories and she learned 1-he didn't know how to drive and relied on student transport 2-he was terribly funny 3-he was gruff but quite kind hearted. Feeling at ease she asked why he cursed so much in class. He told her that it was a way to get down to the student's level-to communicate with them using words they used, how could a student learn if the instructor used language that drifted over their heads? He did not want a class of milk toast he wanted active thinking and communication, in whatever form it took to get the point across. This reasoning she understood. She dropped him off and promised to pick him up for his classes the following morning.
This became her freshman routine; pick C up in the mornings and deliver him safely to his door in the afternoon. Her payment for the taxi service was the occasional lunch, which was a great treat for she was very poor and did not have funds to eat well. The taxi service did not grant her any special privileges in class, in fact, C was tougher on her than the rest of her classmates and many of them commented upon this fact. The ferrying from home to campus and back again was never a trouble for her passenger would tell her interesting stories and brought her chocolates.

The freshman year ended and the sophomore year began. Bea she was now called. Re-named by C during the class in public speaking due to a rather embarassing Aunt Bea (from the Andy Griffith Show) impersonation performed by this humble writer. She enrolled in her fall courses and moved permanently off campus into a house that used to be a grain barn, it was refered to as The Shack for a shack it was. The Shack was located on the same street as C's house (roughly a quarter of a mile away) and her role of chauffeur had altered over time. In addition to the morning and afternoon runs, wednesday nights were B & C evenings. They would get together around 6:30 pm, have a light snack (usually cold salads from the deli counter and a piece of fried chicken or plates of hot soup) have lively discussions about books, recipes, current events, laundry detergent or the best catfood. (C had a cat named Tipper at the time) Then they would go into the cozy livingroom and watch Masterpiece Theatre. Tipper would saunter in and curl up on C's lap while Upstairs Downstairs or I Claudius or The 6 Wives of Henry the 8th played. The schedule would sometimes include various side trips. C would call The Shack, "Hey Bea, you wanna go down to The Coop (local dive diner where students hung out late at night). I need some grease, whadya say?" then she would pick him up in the Bea-Mobile and go grab some grub. They were always welcomed with great cheer at The Coop, C was popular with many students for his famous brand of tough love and foul speech. Tables would be cleared and food brought out when Bea and C arrived, students strolled by to pay homage and waitresses happily flirted with the witty professor. Much feasting and fun were had at the old Coop in those days.

***It should be noted that the best approximation to the actual living Callahan would be Al Pacino's performance in Scent of A Woman. Callahan was not a drinker nor was he blind but when teaching he had the same clipped speech and bombastic manner which he used effectively in a classroom. In private, the man was a teddy bear.

Illness

I loathe getting sick, don't know anybody who enjoys feeling like a dog's lunch. The things that I dislike the most are the dreams that I have when I'm ill. They're more distorted, highly fragmented and I don't feel refreshed upon waking. I took a nap today and had dreams about Callahan. I haven't dreamed about him for a while. I was in his apartment, we were chatting, happy, warm memories. In my sleepy haze, I picked up the phone and dialed his number. I hadn't spoken to him in a while, I wanted to hear his voice, to tell him about the dream. A stranger answered his line in NY. It was then that I realized he'd been dead for 10 years, I couldn't call him anymore. I hung up the phone and cried, sometimes we forget.