Too Bad

The Monkees cancel nine remaining tour dates, BBC News, August 11, 2011

This really is too bad. They had added a date in Albany, NY for September; billing it as, “An Evening with the Monkees.” It didn’t seem like it was going to be a straight-up concert; instead is was to be videos and discussions about songs and performances of rarely heard songs from Head.

When I first heard this news, I thought, “It’s Davy’s fault.” The BBC article confirms this suspicion from omission; only Mickey Dolenz and Peter Tork are quoted. From interviews  and solo performances, Davy Jones seems (to me) a bitter man; a person who thought his life should have turned out better.

In the mid-1990s I attended the Wolfman Jack Rock n’ Roll Jukebox Show at the Kowloon in Saugus, Massachusetts. The Shangra-La’s, Fabian, and Davy Jones all performed, with the Wolfman MC’ing. The SL were great. Fabian was THE BEST. Davy Jones went through the motions. Telling the same tired jokes I heard during the Monkee reunion tours of the mid-1980′s. For the finale, the SL and Fabian came out and sang together. No Davy on stage. I remember imaging Davy sitting in his dressing room, with a bottle, seething that he would not share the stage with such “has-beens.”

Really, it is too bad that one man spoiled it for everyone.

Update: Maybe it wasn’t Davy’s fault.

Another Search Engine Keyword

I mentioned a few days ago about WordPress’ search engine keyword feature on the Site Stats page. There’s another popular phrase I see almost everyday and I’m not exaggerating when I type that. The search word keyphrase is:

Gordon Ramsey Shirtless

God help us all.

p.s. This is the blog page Ramsey fans hit.

So True

As part of the “Site Stats” info WordPress collects, you can see what search engine keywords were used to hit the blog. Today, someone typed,

baby boomers are the biggest complainers

So true.

BTW, they clicked on this blog entry, When Does It End?

Me So Crafty IV, Part Deux

A few weeks back, I related my adventures sanding and painting a kitchen chair in Me So Crafty IV. I had one other chair to give the same treatment.

My second project was the brown chair on the left.

I paid $5.00 for the chair at the Washington County Antique Fair and Flea Market. Unlike the first chair, the brown paint was like shellac. Even with a sander, the paint would not give up the ghost so easily. After a couple of days, I got down to the bare wood, painted two coats of Cherry Red paint and printed the leaf/branch motif.

Final Product

I crocheted a round seat cover for it but the cover reminds me of a brown turd, so I won’t publish it here.

Still Standing

Yup, I’m alive and kickin’ in the Empire State. Last night, Hubby and I moved to a new (temp) locale with wifi access!!! Happy, Happy, Joy, Joy!!!!! I promise to write more in the coming days but let me say that with each passing 24 hours, moving here was the right decision.

Happy Easter

H/T Patrick Madrid

This is My Body

Let me tell you about my week. On Monday, I was trapped inside the house because of the Noah-like floods engulfing the region. On Tuesday, my husband started a new job in a location he has always loved. Unfortunately the job is located in a neighboring state, three hours from home. So he sleeps in a second-rate motel, while I’m three hours away with a 12 week old, hoping the realtor calls with a bid on our condo and, in this market, that’s like hoping the Boston Bruins will win the Stanley Cup…anytime in the next 30 years. On Wednesday, well, I really don’t remember Wednesday because my precious 12 week old decided to give up her long nights of sleep for much shorter nights of sleep. You would think that nine months of pregnancy, a natural birth, interrupted sleep, and other unmentionables would make the kid a bit more grateful. (If the ubiquitous ”THEY” told you everything that could possibly happen to your body during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum, human reproduction would end. Seriously.) 

Being a new Mother at the age of 39 means I make all kinds of mistakes; not big ones like leaving the wee one in the Matrix while I’m inside Starbucks ordering a grande, soy hot chocolate, no-whip. I mean little mistakes that culminated on Thursday. For example, I’m a stay-at-home mother which is a privilege and a full-time job, all in one. (Rather like the Queen of England but without the money or the crown.) This means, my wee one sees me all the time. She WANTS to see me all the time and without the husband to take her for a while… get where this is going? 

On Thursday, I’m pooped, there’s no other word for it. (Besides “pooped” is a word I’ve been using a lot since the baby was born.) It’s 5 a.m. and I’m nursing a wide awake baby. It’s still early for the neighbors to leave for work, allowing me a chance to think in silence. I had nearly forgotten that its Holy Week, a time for Christians to reflect on the centrality of their self-designated label. Holy Thursday, the beginning of the Triduum, celebrates Christ’s institution of the Eucharist; the giving of Himself in the bread and wine, to be followed on Good Friday with his bodily sacrifice. 

Andrea Solario, Madonna with the Green Cushions (Maria Lactan), 1st quarter of 16th century, Oil on Wood, Musée du Louvre, Paris.

All these thoughts tumble through my head as I’m looking down on the new life which looks to me for all her needs. She needs a roof over her head, clothes on her back, a soft kiss on her cheek and food from my breast. Then two worlds collide: “Take and Eat. This is my body which is given up for you.” At this, all the crap from the week falls away and I truly enter into the meaning of Holy Week and the sacrificial meaning of motherhood. 

But a grande, soy hot chocolate, no-whip would be welcome right now.

Rain…

…thy name is Tedious. Enduring yet another day of steady rain in Central Massachusetts and Hubby began his job in NY. I won’t be seeing him until Sunday night. Sigh…

Oh, My.

In the midst of the lovely Spring-like weather we’ve been experiencing here in central Massachusetts, I’ve had to go back to the hospital. Oh, it wasn’t serious. But, again, it was one of those things “THEY” don’t tell you about; a minor complication from giving birth. It’s a good thing “THEY” don’t tell you about these things, otherwise human reproduction would stop. Seriously.

That was the look on my face but I didn't look as cute as Bjork.

Widower

I’m slowly getting into an exercise routine, post partum. I’ve returned to St. Cecilia’s walking the perimeter. The first time I did it last week, I went very slowly. (Another thing you don’t hear much about is the hemorrhoid problem, post delivery. Very uncomfortable.) I’m gearing up to start jogging next week. Slowly…

"and I miss her everyday."

Yesterday during my perambulations I saw one of the regulars. Usually I see the same folks walking but this retired regular visits  his wife’s grave. He shovels the show around the headstone in winter and plants flowers in the spring. (I wrote about him in 2008.) I’ve always nodded and said hello to him but this time he wanted to talk.

He held a shovel with a mix of snow and dog poop. As I walked by he started railing against dog walkers (which are verbotten in St. Cecilia’s.)

“It wouldn’t be so bad if they picked up but when they don’t it shows disrespect.”

From that topic, he talked about his wife who passed six years ago, “and I miss her everyday.”

The rest of the conversation was about his wife and family. He just wanted to talk and I was a willing listener.