A Little Vacation.

We are going on a trip tomorrow! This is a tentative toe poke into the traveling waters. It has been years since either one of us has traveled further than San Diego. My husband's chronic condition has prevented us from attending movies or parties or simply going out for dinner.

I'm excited. He's excited. We are traveling to Sacramento (woo) to celebrate my brother's 60th birthday. The entire family will be there. (We are 22.) On the way we will stop in Santa Nella and spend the night. It is the geographic center of California, out in the middle of nowhere. Let's see, the closest town is Turlock. My mother is buried in Santa Nella.

My mother was in the Navy in WWII. She met my dad in the Navy. She is a veteran and would love that we put her in a veteran's cemetery. Her children are spread all over California and she would love that we shared her with each other. She was born in Texas, but California was her home. I haven't been to Santa Nella in years and it is now time to visit. I'm told the grass has grown very green and that she is surrounded by the barley fields she loved so much. (Sting called them "fields of gold.")

I booked a hotel in Santa Nella with room service, just in case traveling and eating in a restaurant becomes too difficult. My husband and I will be together and laugh and talk and will leave the stress of home behind.

The next day we travel to Sacramento. We will only be an hour and a half away. Easy-peasy.

I'm looking forward! Yay! A trip with a destination and a celebration at the end. We will come home on Sunday. (I have to teach Monday.) But, for all those hours we will be outside time, in joy and with each other.

Little joys. The best.

Taxes and Managing Money.

I finished the taxes today and mailed them off. What a relief. Done. I never appreciate how much the taxes weigh on my mind until I carefully, obsessively-compulsively drive the envelopes to the post-office and slide them in the slot myself. I have to do it. Only then can I let that anxiety go. Letting it go.

I do our taxes. I won't hire someone. I figure I'm as smart as any CPA and I trust myself far more than some stranger. On average and with the help of my husband, it takes me about 5 1/2 hours. I honestly think if I hired someone, it would take me 8 hours to put together my receipts and logs so I could pay this someone else to insert the numbers. Thought I'd save the money and do it myself.

I've been audited twice. I won one completely and won half on the other. (I was a little confused on one point.) Pretty good record. My taxes are fairly complicated.

I find that it is best to be as honest as one can be, find all one's receipts, follow the instructions and not be afraid to take the deductions one is allowed.

My point may be: We should be able to do our own taxes. It shouldn't be so difficult or cause so much dismay. I don't have a problem paying my fair share of taxes. I know I am paying for police and streets and education and fire protection. We shouldn't be put in a position where we worry and retreat and postpone.

We pay our other bills on time. Well, this is just another bill for the protection, support and help that we receive every day. It is just another bill.

I'm satisfied my husband and I have paid our share to help fund our country. I just think our CFO (read "Congress") may need to do a better job managing that money.

Gosh, I've become more political in my blog than I ever wanted to be. Next week I'll talk about art and the nature of art and why we do things for free. (Or, maybe not.)

True Patriots.

I heard my husband say to a dear friend of ours, "They think the world is what they play." I understood. The children who have become so violent are playing out, in real life, the video games; the violence ubiquitous in the gaming.

They think the world is what they play. Hmm.

Later this evening, I thought, "Republicans think the world is what they pay."

A disturbing thought and frustrating because I don't want to think of Republicans as my enemy. I know (and love) too many. I know good, loving and thoughtful people who are defensive and aggressive and embarrassed and re-thinking, but so dedicated to the Republican Party that they are unwilling to see a singular truth.

We need help.

We don't need a "party of no." We need thinking people who will help all of us, Republican, Democrat, Independent, Green, whatever... Congress is supposed to represent us ALL! It does not matter to which party the elected official belongs. Our elected officials are supposed to speak for us in our smaller communities. I've never seen that happen. My rep. is supposed to represent me whether or not I voted for her. I don't get the wrangling.

Help us.

Help us. On my small block, we have 30% unemployment. We are a working class neighborhood. WE HAVE 30% UNEMPLOYMENT.

Outrageous.

No one is helping. No one is there. Not democrats, not republicans, not the green party, not the libertarians, not the scientologists, not the independents. (I don't capitalize because I respect none...)

We think, those of you who have time and money for politics care only about your own reputation. None of you address the real day to day needs of the people who depend on you. None of you are really listening to what is important.

I will tell you. We can't find jobs. We want to work, but there is no work. We can't pay our medical bills. We want to, but they are just too expensive. We don't understand why you spend so much money in Iraq when we want the soldiers home. We want our children educated and our streets repaired. We send you tax money that strips our ability to pay our phone bill. We manage our own budgets better than any expert you seem to have.

Step Up and Stop It!

Help us!

Help us live our lives taking care of our children, working in environments that won't give us cancer, and leaving a world to our grandchildren that includes pandas.

This is the job you've been given. You are elected officials. Do what is right, not politically expedient.

I have faith you will all come to your senses. Do it now. It is not about "party." It is about Our Country.

Be True Patriots!

The Job Hunt, Part 8. (It is an on going endeavor.)

Today was a really good day.

I picked up my script and the re-writes for my show at the LATC. I taught my class and my students were wonderful and engaged. I got two very important emails. One from Disney, telling me to hang in, they will be calling. The other from The Music Center offering me a two day job that I accepted. So, for two days at the end of April I will actually be employed by three different organizations. Gotta coordinate that! Gotta love it.

Tomorrow, I will attend to my husband. He is having an MRA. Yeah, I know... you think MRI, but no... this is a specific test to see if he has an aneurysm. He has symptoms. Sucks, but we have to find out. Interesting that I spend as much time talking to our insurance company as I do worrying about the results of the test. (By the way... we are covered and they will pay 100% of the $2,000 or more cost. I checked. One has to.)

When chronic illness becomes the constant visitor in one's family one wishes that visitor was fish. (Guests are like fish... good for 3 days. Oh, and I am allergic to fish!)

We move forward. We can only travel through time minute by minute. Give us the Tardis. Let us jump ahead and jump back and travel without time. Ah, what a gift that would be.

Minute by minute we forge our future. It is okay. It has to be.

No matter where I go, there I am.

If you lived here you'd be home by now.

Smoke In The Distance.

I just played with the language button for my blog. I was thinking the button would turn everyone's posts into another language, but it only changes the instructions. Then, I had a (very brief) moment of panic when I couldn't find "English" listed anymore. Ah, yes! French for English is "Anglais." Restored and recovered. (Lucky I didn't change the language to Bantu or Klingon.)

The cherry trees were in bloom last week.

Already the pink blossoms are falling off the trees and I walk on pink petals. I don't know why the blooms fall so fast. (Maybe the bees are done?)

I see a lot that I wonder about. Some things I'll look up on the internet. Sometimes I'll call my husband or my dad and ask. The cherry blossoms I share with my friends who are walking on petals too. Sometimes I let the mystery percolate and create a scenario or two.

Smoke in the distance... A fire? Of course. But what is burning? A building? A business? A pile of tires? (The smoke is so black.) A signal? An omen? A warning?

I never found out the cause of the fire. The smoke was gone in the time it took to take 2 photographs. Another unsolved minor mystery. Diverting and as least as entertaining as playing with buttons better left alone.

The Worst Thing.

Facebook is so silly. Really. Some great information gets out and I appreciate the contact with long lost (and sometimes forgotten) friends. We've become rampant in our "causes." I don't object, I just think we are taking an easier way out than we used to. (Yes, okay, use my name... okay I'll join your new group to make a point... ooh, Otter Pops! Okay. I get caught up too, but what is the point, really?) I could be wrong. Facebook could end up having more power than I could possibly imagine.

We used to take it to the streets! We used to pour out and protest. Why are all the liberal protests done on line? The maniacal minority has learned from us (back in our hay-day) that protests in person make the news. And we sit and type at our computers.! We my friends, if you can stand it, are now the silent majority.

Did you write to your congressman about health care reform? I did. Just last Saturday. I wrote to one of my senators a year ago about health care. WE have to communicate our issues or the duly elected can't do the job they were elected to do.

"The worst thing you can do is be silent.

Cover your face and look the other way and stay quiet.

You can do that in love, no kisses no hugs and no kindness.

You do it alright, keep your heart and your mind out of crisis.

But there's no magic, no curses or spells,

Can't leave the dirty work to someone else."

I'm sure I'm paraphrasing my dear husband's lyrics, but the point is... The worst thing you can do is be silent!

Those of us who really think and understand the nature of our current crises need to address them and speak out. We cannot afford to sit on our collective ass (large as that is) and expect lesser minds to solve our problems.

To my friends, I often reference a short story: "The Marching Morons", by Cyril M. Kornbluth (July 23, 1923 – March 21, 1958). It is the story of our civilization in the future controlled by the... shall we say, less learn-ed... and the intelligent are now the slaves of the vast majority of stupid people. I reference this story because it seems to be coming true. Read it.

Don't be intimidated! Work for change. Work for equality. Work to set the world right.

Get up. Get out. Talk. Question. Your future is at stake. (My future is here and now.)

xo.

Rejoining The Fray.

I stopped by the LATC (Los Angeles Theatre Center) this afternoon after my class. It was a good idea. I wandered with the general manager and started remembering the time I'd spent there. (I did three shows for the old LATC, and the work space has not changed much.) It was exciting and new and comforting and familiar. (And... they pay for parking!)

I just received and downloaded the script. I'll need the electronic copy so I can keep up with the changes. I have a meeting next week with my director and I need to find an assistant. Those scary words.."There is pay" are attached to the search. Frankly, it is not much less than I'm getting. And hey! That lucky person will work with me!

Back at it, if only briefly. I'll worry about the later, later. This is all good, and today I appreciated how important it is just to rejoin the fray.