Guitar PIcks from Credit Cards!

It is my inability to throw things out that is the essence of my creativity and housekeeping, such as it is. Everything can be something else useful and fun given the time and focus. I have bags of wine corks waiting to be bulletin boards. At the time when I was collecting them from friends I remember thinking they were on the endangered list due to the new impostures that pretended to be corks. So I have the corks but not the focus (which leads to the time). So today I renewed my AAA membership and was holding the outdated card. Need I say more.
Blog On!
Leslie

Housecat Vs. Bloodhound, or "Who's The Boss?"

This noble face belongs to Rufus who visited yesterday with his owner Sara. He has a gentle, sensitive disposition and the talented nose of bloodhound legend.

While Sara was in the studio with Leslie, Rufus went exploring. He immediately discovered the mini garbage can containing the cat food and flipped the top off. He immersed his whole snout in the food to chow down and had to be dragged away. Not deterred, he trotted around, gathering scents. The cats, especially Shug, were generally displeased with this intruder, although Nefertiti seemed more fascinated than scared. Shug was emitting operatic cat growls, like a feline version of Il Commendatore in Don Giovanni.

After Rufus was given several dog biscuits, he unsuccessfully tried to get into the litter boxes, compost container, and (again) the cat food can. He discovered the cats' water bowl under a small table and slurped up a drink enthusiastically. Guess all that cat food gave him a powerful thirst. Alas, Shug saw her chance. She crouched on top of the table, silently. When Rufus pulled his big noggin from under the table, Shug smacked him with her left paw right on top of his crown.

"AWOOOOOOO!" bawled the hound. Humiliated, Rufus ran off to his mom in the studio.

Shug posed on top of the table, puffed out to a most impressive size. In her view, the proper hierarchy of beings had been enforced.
-Maureen

Vagina Mono-blog

I can't let the situation with Jane Fonda and the Vagina Monologues go by without a comment.
Several years ago I auditioned for a part in that play that was being put on by a local HAWK group at the West End Theater in Gloucester, MA. I'd seen the show and thought it would be great fun except for one monologue. It had made a strong impression on me for it's heavy use of one word that I never liked: the "C" word. That part did go to Sara Slifer who was young and edgy with a lithe and strong dancer's build. She more than did it justice. Watching her perform nightly definately shifted me past a long held view point to a less charged place. I got "The Village" which is the voice of a young woman who had been gang raped by soldiers. I cried when I read it cold for the audition. Of the several times I performed it I always had a strong reaction. It was one of the few monologues that did not elicit laughter and wild applause. At the end of the monologue I'd walk back to my chair while the audience sat in shocked silence. I felt uncomfortable but I wanted to do that part to honor the woman and her words. During the run of the show I performed about five different parts. The lighter ones were fun to do but they lacked the satisfaction of The Village. I loved every aspect of that experience. Directed by and thanks to Lynda Robinson, the group of local women pulled together in a short time. The sum of the parts was definately greater than the (w)hole. A few years later the process was repeated with another run and a slightly different cast with the same positive connections. I never performed The Village again.
Just when I believe that this current generation has the benefit of all those hard won changes, I see that some things persist. I guess I assumed that due to the openness of all kinds of language being used that the shock value of some words has been muffled. This morning Meredith Vieira is interviewing Eve Ensler who wrote the Vagina Monologues and Jane Fonda who was asked to perform the very monologue that I had dreaded. My guess is that she just said the name of the monologue knowing it would draw attention but knowing that in this context there was no pussy footing around the subject. Later Meredith Vieira apologises for causing anyone discomfort. But in the context of the subject which is more important, imparting the power and purpose of this play while educating the viewers or making sure no one is uncomfortable? It is through examining what makes us uncomfortable and why that helps difuse out dated responses. By skirting discomfort growth is curtailed.
Blog On!
Leslie

My Sanity (Such as it is), One Stitch at a Time

I have never been someone who liked meetings. Put me in a room where I have to sit still, listen to lots of discussion that I may or may not find relevent and monitor the other channels of thought that are running like stock quotes at the bottom of my mental screen is a stretch for me. Until I discovered the calming power of fiber flowing through my fingers on the way to a crochet hook or a knitting needle. Part of it is the softness passing over my fingers. Another calming component is the the repetitive motion needed for each stitch. The only variable is the color that the mood of the moment craves. This morning's choice was a multi-jewel toned mohair blend with a thin synthetic strand of sparkle riding shotgun. Each saturated hue blotted out exstraneouss thought. I sat quietly knitting, listening, absorbing.
School would have been so different had I known this sooner.
Blog On!
Leslie

Rest in Peace

Ch. Genesis Flashback to Nana, CGC

AKA, Joon Bugg

July 27, 1993 - February 5, 2008

"You think dogs will not be in heaven? I tell you, they will be there long before any of us." Robert Louis Stevenson

- Maureen