A Lesson Learned

 

                   Many years ago, I walked into a yoga class and met a woman I had lived next door to as a child. I was new to the class and she assured me it was wonderful. “It really relaxes you and makes you feel at peace,” she said. “Not that you need that. You always seem so calm.”  It was then I knew that people who don't know me well, have no idea what I'm really like. Apparently I project a very calm exterior. My close friends and family will find that laughable. I am like a bundle of springs compressed in a tiny body. I throw myself into tasks and take the outcome to heart.  Most of the time it's fine. Tension fuels my crazy calendar of work, children's activities, theatre, writing and family life. But I do occasionally pay a price.

                   I've always considered myself politically moderate. But I've begun to realize that  I'm only a moderate by Massachusetts' standards. Compared other parts of the country I'm a bleeding heart liberal.  Four years ago on election night, I felt like a rubber band that had been stretched and stretched as I watched the returns. It looked like Obama would probably win, but I was afraid of being too cocky. I went to bed before the results were finalized and somehow managed to sleep.

                   By morning, it was clear that Obama would be our next president. It was also clear that I hadn't slept peacefully. I had clenched my jaw so hard in my sleep that I broke my tooth. It was the second of the four crowns I now have in my mouth—all from internalizing stress. I now carry an extra dental insurance policy, just for me. So, yes I need all the yoga I can get.

                   Last night a relative of mine wrote on her Facebook wall that she was, “Doing yoga, drinking wine, and making a care package for my sister at college. Sending donations to Red Cross Hurricane Relief and Planned Parenthood. Controlling the things I can control.” Clearly, at half my age, she is  twice as smart. Today I'm going make pumpkin pancakes, go to the chiropractor, walk to the polls with my kids in the autumn sunshine, and do some work for my upcoming show. If there's time, I may get out my yoga mat. Controlling the things we can control. Brilliant.

Election Season Pride

 

                   We were driving to school earlier this week when we heard on the radio that Senate Candidate Elizabeth Warren would be appearing in our hometown that day.

                   “Mom! Did you hear that? Elizabeth Warren is going to be in Brockton today!”

                   My ten-year-old son Owen has been fascinated by the elections this year.

                   “Want me to find out where she's going to be?”

                   “Could we go?”

                   “Sure. As long as it isn't during school. I'll check her website for information.”

                   Owen slumped back in his seat pretending to faint from excitement.

                   The appearance was right after school at a local Greek restaurant. Owen was enraptured by Ms. Warren's stump speech. He waited patiently for our chance to speak to her. She was very gracious and shook both of my boys hands and addressed them each by name.

James, Elizabeth Warren and Owen.

                   I'm excited that my son has shown so much interest in the elections. But the vitriol he's exposed to bothers me. He's completely given up his morning diet of PBS Kids shows for the local news and “Good Morning America”. He hears the attack ads and asks, “Is that true?” Well yes. And no. At ten years old the truth is black and white. He doesn't understand the gray areas. He doesn't understand what happens when quotes are taken out of context or statistics are manipulated. And I doubt I do a very good job of explaining it between tasks during our early morning rush. I've cautioned him about making snap decisions about people who support different candidates than he does. 

The boys with their autograph.

                   For now, I'm proud that he's interested. He isn't old enough to vote yet, but he's smart enough to know that whoever is elected will have an impact on his world. He cares about who is going to be shaping our country. When I vote on Tuesday, I'll be taking my kids with me. I encourage you to do the same.

Trifecta: Heart of Gold

                   Smith studied the call girl.  She was perfect for the job. Her wavy bronze hair flirted with her bare shoulders. Her emerald eyes glowed in contrast to her perfect olive skin.

                   “Why did you bring me here?” she asked.

                   “Why do men usually bring you to hotel rooms Angelica,” he answered holding back a sneer.

                   “Most men just want someone who doesn't ask for anything more complicated than money. Tell me why I'm here tonight.  It's still early. I can find a John that who won't play games. A girl has to make a living.”

                   He tossed her heavy bundle of twenty dollar bills.

                   “Something tells me you aren't here for a straight lay.”

                   “Smart and sexy.” He handed her a photograph. “Do you know who this is?”

                   She shook her head.

                   “That's Judge Lawrence Steele. A rising star in the judicial sky. My associates want to make sure he doesn't rise any higher. We want you to seduce His Honor.”

                   She raised her eyebrows and handed him back the picture.

                   “I think you have the wrong girl Mr. Smith.”

                   “You're perfect for this Angelica. Judge Larry was head over heels for a girl who looked like you back in college. It didn't work out and he ended up marrying a blond homecoming queen from Oklahoma.”

                   “If you think he'd be that easily seduced, he's probably cheated already. Why fake it?”

                   “We've looked. He's as faithful as a dog, loves his kids, pays his taxes. The bastard doesn't even cheat at golf. So I'm offering you fifty thousand up front and fifty thousand after.”

                   She was silent for a moment as she let the idea of one hundred thousand dollars roll around her brain.

                   “No.”

                   “No? What kind of a whore turns down a hundred grand?”

                   “Mr. Smith, you're the only whore in this room. I'm an honest hooker.”

I'm linking up this week with Trifecta. Here's this week's challenge:

WHORE
1: a woman who engages in sexual acts for money: prostitute; also: a promiscuous or immoral woman
2: a male who engages in sexual acts for money
3: a venal or unscrupulous person

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 

• Only one entry per writer.

Wordless Wednesday: Published

Now available from Amazon.

Hunkering Down

      I have been a neglectful blogger lately. Life has seemed busier than usual this fall. So today I'm feeling grateful for Hurricane Sandy for forcing me to slow down for a bit. The boys are home from school and we're all cramming in some extra time on our favorite electronic gadgets before the inevitable power outages. So I thought I'd catch you up a bit on what my little clan has been up to lately.

      Saturday was the last soccer game of the season. It was a picture perfect New England autumn day and I was feeling a little sentimental. I even wrote a poem on my Iphone while I was watching the game. I'm not much of a poet so here goes...

Words

I wish I was a photographer.

I could capture the last of the crimson leaves clinging to oak and maple.

I could capture the way the dew looks like diamonds as it springs off a swiftly kicked soccer ball.

I could capture how the players' breath steams in the cool October air.

I could capture the rainbow of players united in love for the game.

Alas, I am a writer.

      But clearly, I am not a poet. Anyway, both boys won their last games. It was particularly nice for Owen since it was the first game his team won this season. The players were pretty good as individuals, but it took them a while to get the hang of playing as a team. Every kid gets a medal for participation (go ahead and make your commentaries about that), but there are two additional awards that are given to specific kids—one for “most improved” and one for “good sportsmanship”. Guess who's a good sport? I'm really proud of this:

My good sport.

      Fall also means that Cub Scouts are in full swing. Our local Boy Scout Council organized a huge event along the Charles River. There was CPR training, snow shoe relay races, shelter building, a zombie themed obstacle course, a ropes course, and so much more. But the highlight of the day was the world record breaking longest derby car track in the world. It was built to look like one of our favorite Boston landmarks, the Leonard P. Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge.

Pretty cool, eh?

      As you know, Halloween is fast approaching. Owen told me he wanted to be a knight so we Googled some images to get ideas for his costume. He found this drawing....

No pressure. Really.

        I had a bolt of inspiration one day in Walmart (now that's a phrase you don't hear every day!)  when I came upon this solar auto-shade in a bin of random clearance merchandise.

       With the help of some florist wire, a paper plate and some duct tape, I turned it into a helmet, bracers, and boot covers. I made his cloak, tabard and scabbard from leftover curtain fabric and some scraps of felt. An old belt of mine and Owen's wooden sword completed his ensemble. This project made me feel like the McGyver of costuming. 

Not bad, eh?

      Finally, our theatrical world has been indirectly taking up my time. Hubby and I have to take turns doing shows so the kids will be properly fed and cared for. He just wrapped up an excellent production of Deathtrap. A local review called him “hunky”. Who am I to argue? So next is my turn for something theatrical. In a couple of weeks, auditions begin for a production of Moon Over Buffalo that I'm directing. It's a madcap farce about a troupe of actors.

       Meanwhile we're all hunkering down waiting for Sandy. We're ready though. We've put away or secured everything outside. We all took nice long hot showers this morning in case we don't have hot water. We've stocked up on batteries, flashlights, candles, and non-perishable food. Most importantly, we have enough red wine and Halloween candy to last for a week. See you soon Sandy!