Loss

Sorry, taking a diversion from talking about the wedding to think about how everyone is going bonkers over the five year anniversary of the terrorist attacks in NYC and DC. I've made the decision to work for Pros' mom rather than go into school and sub. There is going to be a lot of lip service and pageantry tomorrow, with several moments of silence and a lot of emotion. It's just not how I want to spend the day.

Pros and I have different feelings on the subject of mourning loss. He thinks noting the anniversary of a bad event is plain stupid. I can see his point. Why bring up a bad feeling on what happens to be a perfect span of time from when it actually happened? Good times, sure, mark them. But why dwell on the bad times?

For me, it's something I do on rare occasions. I mark the anniversary of when Mur died. When I remember, I light a Yartzeit candle. It's a traditional way of marking the death of someone special in our lives. The difference between 9/11 and 12/ 3 (about the day Mur's body was found on a houseboat at St. Johns) is that I had no personal connection to the attacks. I lost nobody. Mur's death was a great loss, one that I feel almost every day. It's felt a little more on the anniversary because I can still hear my own voice, screaming that it just couldn't be true.

It's a middle of the road way of grieving, I guess. We'll see what it'll be like in two weeks. I promised Mama Hyde that I'd take her to the Flight 93 Memorial, since we're meeting back in Somerset at that time.

Wedding Saga Part V

Saturday, June 24th, evening

Doc and I indeed made the drive from the hotel to Green Gables faster than anyone at the Jennerstown Speedway could have managed. By the time we ran upstairs to the Bridal Room, Cats and Laurali were ready for me to start throwing things at them to press and nonesuch. Unfortunately, it was hot and humid in the room, so we’re all trying to steamer. I was fine with the photographer coming in once I had my “foundation garment” on, especially considering it more closely resembled a bulletproof vest than a sexy bra, but my mother guarded the door as we fussed.

Grampa was allowed in once the skirt was pressed and on me and as I was being strapped into my corset top. With him was a pair of diamond earrings and a matching brooch on a pearl necklace. These were originally my Gram’s. I was told the earrings were mine to keep but the brooch was going back with him until I had a house with a burglar alarm, t not sweat despite thehus giving me the Something Old and Something Borrowed. Between them and Gram’s favorite orchids in my hair, I felt that the best of her spirit was with me even if she was too incapacitated to be.

Doc finished my hair and makeup like a pro. If she weren’t one of the best endocrinologists in Ohio, she’d be a killer soup-to-nuts wedding planner. Brad, the photographer, was eventually allowed in to take as many pictures as possible of me finishing my lipstick, adjusting the bodice of the corset so it wasn’t dangerously overflowing, and walking down the stairs without falling flat on my face. I stood in the lobby for a minute, letting the restaurant patrons stare at me, until Teresa forced me into the lobby of the reception room so she could bring Pros to me. I kept peeking around the corner. Omigod, he looked so gorgeous in that tux! We had a few minutes to just be silly, and then it was off to take a metric buttload of photos.

Brad decided that the first pictures were to be of me standing on a narrow stone footbridge in the middle of a small waterfall. I was NOT happy with this plan, as I am a klutz and was positive someone or something was going to get wet. He assured me that this was the best location possible and had his awesome assistant Cinnamon help me arrange myself in as comfortable a position as possible. Must admit, the photos turned out great, although Pros almost wound up falling in when it was his turn to join me on the footbridge. We then took another gazillion photos in the gardens around Green Gables, and I was starting to wonder if we’d ever bother to stop the photos and start the wedding. Thankfully, mercifully, Teresa called time and Brad warned us that he’d want more photos during cocktail hour. So much for a little alone time with my new husband and a cheese plate!

Pros and Wine Guy followed Cats to their places up front while my brother, with K's help, started to play the pre-processional waltz he had written. I stayed back in the reception hall with my family and Laurali, fairly antsy to start the ceremony. For some reason, I wound up singing the bridesmaid song from Ruddigore (my favorite G&S show) to calm my nerves. Laurali chimed in with me, and I’m told the back rows were cracking up listening to us. Finally, with one parent on each arm, we started to walk outside into the crowd.

Pros looked so gorgeous with that amazing smile on his face. Cats had borrowed her late father-in-law’s prayer shawl so she could look a little more rabbinical and less pastoral. The wedding march was exactly what I had asked my brother to compose and more. There was absolutely no rain in sight. This was going well!

According to Jewish tradition, Pros and I shared a cup of wine, said our basic “I Will” stuff, and then were told to have a seat. Anyone who didn’t know Cats was in for a treat, because she had decided to give one of her world-class sermons. To quote Cats’ blog on our wedding, “Now JH and her family are Jewish. Pros, her now-husband is not. He is a geologist.” HAH! She actually based her sermon on a rock she brought with her from Connecticut as a symbol of unity and cohesion. An entire row of geology grad students were highly amused and gave her much encouragement as she forged ahead with this analogy. We were finally allowed to stand up and recite our vows.

Then, the rings were exchanged. The only problem with the ring ceremony was that the humidity had caused my fingers to swell, making it very difficult to shove the damn thing onto my hand. I forced myself to not put it on myself and just shoved from my end while hoping it wouldn’t cut my knuckle like in the Billy Idol video. I really needed that second sip of wine after that! Suddenly, Cats finished talking, Pros and I had stomped on a wine glass (okay, it was a lightbulb, but his foot alone could have managed the real thing) and I was kissing my new husband while clinging to him in amazement.

We were married! We could live happily ever after! We… had to take more formal photos.

To be continued!

Wedding Saga Part IV

Saturday, June 24th, morning

Considering I was told how anxious I’d probably be this night before the wedding, it was a struggle to get out of bed. The bachelorette party wore me out perfectly to sleep through the night. However, by 8:30 I threw on my bathing suit and shorts, kissed my almost husband as he slept off his bachelor party, and headed down to the lobby.

My original intention was to head straight to the hot tub at the pool, but that changed when I ran into Lynx. She’d just finished working out and was headed to the breakfast buffet and convinced me this was a good idea. It wasn’t as tasty as the Summit Diner but at least I didn’t have to drive anywhere. It turned out that Lynx and her husband, who was also still asleep, were in the room next to us. She promised us body work if we needed it. Pros definitely did, but I just wanted a good soak. She grabbed her suit and joined me in the hot tub for a while. It was so lovely to have a fairly normal conversation without a ton of emotion. After the rehearsal dinner, I was still a little drained and needed to recoup before the ceremony.

There was time to grab a quick shower to rinse off the chlorine and get my hair about as in shape as it would get before my dad would pick me up for a manicure appointment. Praise the SIL for making that appointment, as my hands were a disaster. Pros was just waking up as I was finished drying my bangs straight. He and the guys had found, in his words, “the cheapest bar in North America.” A bunch of the bikers were also there and kept him in whiskey and company well into the night. No lap dances for him, apparently, but that was to be expected in a town as quiet as Somerset.

SIL (here she is with my bro and K) and I had a great chat, although she was still very emotional about her grandmother’s passing. She was amazed at how much fun she’d had the night before and was already trying to plan a gathering of us all in the future. She was also doing marvelous work in keeping my parents calm and out of my hair. I marveled again at my brother’s great fortune for finding such a wife.

The time between returning from the manicure and leaving for Green Gables was a mix of napping and nerves. I wasn’t nervous about getting married, just anxious to get things started. Pros and I slept, listened to the radio, grabbed lunch with Lynx and Tony then slept some more…

By the time I was supposed to meet Doc to drive to Green Gables, I was insane to get out of the hotel. Unfortunately, Doc has never been as hyperpunctual as I am. When I worked for her and signed in patients for their 8:30am appointments, I usually knew she wouldn’t even see the front of the building until at least 9. This time, we had fifteen minutes to be at Green Gables as I’d promised my parents, but Doc was still in the shower. I simply clenched my jaw and tried to not throw the box with my dress in a hissy Bridezilla fit. It wasn’t like they’d shrug and start the ceremony without me, right? Besides, Doc drives insanely fast. We’d get there reasonably on time.

To be continued!

Wedding Saga Part III

Friday, June 23^rd, evening

The wedding rehearsal, according to my conversation with Green Gables owner Teresa, was to start at 6:30 so that we could make it to the 7:30 rehearsal dinner. Unfortunately, Theresa had written it down for 7:00 and was busy with the wedding in progress. Fortunately, this was just fine as the best man was still enroute with our officiant. They made it by 6:45, hugs were exchanged with a very tired Cats, and we got organized.

The rehearsal itself was quick and more of a logistics plot between Cats and Teresa. My one concern was location. We had originally decided the back lawn would be an ideal setting, but Pros and I had realized that the patio overlooking the lawn would be a much better idea. Dad wanted to stick with the original plan and pointed out the improving weather. Pros pointed out the standing pools of water on the lawn. I pointed out how much we had spent on my wedding dress while pointing out said pools. Cats pointed out that she could conduct the service just fine from the exact point where she was standing. Teresa pointed out that we would all fit on the patio with no problem. Point, set, match.

Mom drove Cats back to Quill Haven to change clothes before dinner while the rest of us headed back to the Quality Inn. We were a little late due to the drive from Green Gables, so we entered the room to sighs of relief and some applause. Lots of cousins, tons of teachers (including my high school principal) and my new grandfather in law were there. I was amazed how happy New Grampa was to meet me, considering I had heard he wasn’t fond of anyone of any kind of ethnic minority. My Grampa, as usual, had the camera going at full tilt. This is a man who took pictures of the buffet at my 30^th birthday party, so I just shook my head and insist that not all pictures be posed so I could get a glass of wine during photos. Thankfully, he agreed long enough to pose with me and the wine glass.

As we settled in for dinner, I realized that Lynx and her husband were still not there. I wanted to call her to make sure she was okay, but realized I didn’t have her cell phone number, leaving me to stare at her place card on the front table. Cats kept me distracted by insisting that she sit in between Pros and me through dinner. I’ve known Cats a long time. Having her for a chaperone was one of the funniest moments of the weekend.

I’d talked about the rehearsal dinner with Pros’ stepmom, The Southern Belle. Belle agreed that something Cats had done at her rehearsal dinner was a good idea, so as we finished eating, she stood and requested everyone who wanted to talk, stand up in turn (she’s also a teacher and would have called on raised hands if need be) and tell the story about how they knew us. Oy, the stories had me laughing and blushing. My mother insisted on telling about the time I screamed at a rooster so loudly it keeled over dead. Hey, I was a toddler! About two thirds of the way through, Lynx and hubby stumble into the party and are quickly fed. The poor dears were caught in yet another downpour outside of Pittsburgh!

Somehow, Cats had the last word. Cats’ speech was, at first, identical to the story I told at her rehearsal dinner, and I’ll take the time to tell the story. Cats was a transfer student to Muhlenberg College, but her brother was already a sophomore. She was fine with his pals, but wanted to make her own friends. She went to the drama club party and made the mistake of bringing her brother’s friend Mitchell, a total letch. She realized this and decided to ditch him by sneaking off into a side room, which happened to be mine. I had a single room, but there was enough floor space for a sleeping bag and nothing else. Somehow, there were at least twenty people jammed in there. Cats popped her head into this room and yelled, “HIDE ME!!!” She then JUMPED OVER several people and landed on the bed behind me. By the time Mitchell made it to my dorm room door, Cats was totally hidden and safe. Later, she commented that she’d been at school for weeks and just wanted a friend of her own. Within a minute, I had her phone number committed to memory, and within two days we were inseparable on campus.

This story may have caused the only time I cried the whole weekend.

I could say a thousand things about the bachelorette party, but I'll limit it to the highlights:

• An overabundance of redheads
• Loud and fun cover band
• Several rounds of drinks with an amazing group of gals
• One lap dance from two of said amazing gals
• Two bikers attracted by one lap dance
• One bride shipped off to bed!

To be continued!

Wedding Saga Part II

Friday, June 23^rd

Pros and I woke up early on Friday, and I was somehow famished! It’s probably a good thing we were at a Bed and Breakfast, right? Well, the not so good news was that no meals were included with the room, despite the café being completely open for business. I started to boil over and asked to talk to the owner. She told me that it was tough luck, that she bought the building after I made the reservation with the previous owner, and that no niceties were carried over to us. She was just so curt with me that Pros agreed we needed to take our $100 a night elsewhere. We quickly grabbed the last room at the Quality Inn and paid for our one night stay where we were. The breakfast at the Summit Diner was probably much better than the one Our Coal Miners Café would have offered anyway.

Hey, we’re all entitled to at least one Bridezilla moment, aren’t we?

We finished breakfast and lugged our stuff to our new hotel room. I was thrilled to note that the room had recently been recarpeted and the mattress was new. We then moved on to the next problem for the weekend, which was making sure Cats made it from her Pittsburgh flight (there are no airports in Somerset) to her room before the rehearsal. The storms we had driven through in Ohio were now centered over Pittsburgh, delaying her flight. A further delay was caused when a plane on the next runway landed without its landing gear. Any requests I made to my parents for help getting Cats were not heard, mostly because they were all at Wal-Mart gathering supplies. I was at another boiling point when Pros calmly picked up his phone and arranged for the best man (we’ll call him WineGuy thanks to his oenphile nature) and his wife (Doc) to swing to the airport on their way. As it made more sense for them to go 30 miles out of their way than it did for me to take a 130 round trip, I smooched the stuffing out of my almost husband and made it to my previously scheduled tea.

The Inn at Georgian Place is a little out of place in Somerset, as if someone grabbed a Southern plantation house and set it down on top of a hill in Central Pennsylvania. Their rooms were sadly booked for the entire weekend, so I had reserved the last tea time of the day for my mother and me. She included my sister-in-law (SIL, to keep it simple) and Laurali since they were already staying at Quill Haven Inn with her. Mom gave me my outfit for my wedding night, which surprised me because I had been expecting an elegant penoir set instead of the barely there slip nightie I unwrapped. The blue garter with it was also a little eye-popping. I put it in my purse for the wedding so I'd have something blue. SIL was more quiet than usual, as she was dealing with the suddent death of her grandmother, but she kept up with the conversation and was happy for my sake. Laurali seemed very focused on her bridesmaid tasks ahead of her and was astonished when I whipped out a green amber amulet on a sterling silver chain. Like I was going to forget my best friend!

After tea, I caught a ride back to the hotel after a quick stop at Quill Haven to see my brother, who was working with his VERY TALL friend K on the arrangement for the music he wrote for the wedding (here's a hint, my brother is the one with our great-grandfather's mandolin). As much as I love my family, I was getting a little anxious about the rehearsal, especially with Cats still stuck in Pittsburgh, so I perched myself on the bed, waiting for any news, until I accidentally fell asleep. Woke up in time to throw on a little black dress, call to make sure WineGuy, Doc and Cats were somehow timing their arrival meet us at Green Gables.

To be continued!

Wedding Saga Part I

Thursday, June 22

We get on the road much later than I would have liked, but we had to pick up the tux, drop off the animals (the majority of time spent on that was spent trapping Pandora and forcing her hissing self into the carrier), eat something, load the car... Needless to say, my quiet down time with the family was a fleeting thought.

Little did I know that almost everyone would be caught in situations beyond their control. As Pros and I dodged hailstorms that lined Rte 70, my parents, grandfather and MOH (Laurali) were trapped on the PA Turnpike. An oil truck decided to slam into the wall of a tunnel and leak gas everywhere. Sheesh! They stopped at a conveniently located rest stop for a snack and listened for news with the truckers. Only Pros' father and company arrived in Somerset on time.

We arrived at our hotel around 7pm and found that the change in ownership of the hotel had killed the few things about it (besides locale near the wedding venue) that I liked. No phone or television, not even an alarm clock. Pros had to repair the air conditioning and the bathroom light fixture. We weren't even allowed to park on the same side of the street as the hotel because the preference was given to people eating in the cafe that had bought out the location. This was shrugged off as we joined my family for dinner.

I had thought to call Ruby Tuesday's to warn them a party of six was enroute, but there was a major BIKER RALLY in town, so it was really crowded. To make matters worse, there was a tour bus that arrived before any of us did. Who takes a tour bus to a biker rally?!? It took about 20 mintues, but the six of us were finally seated. Another ten minutes, the server was actually informed that she had people about to attack the salad bar, so we got said salad for free. My grandfather was also in the group, unfortunately alone due to the Alzheimer's which had taken full hold of my dear grandmother. He was having a ball with us, fortunately. The camera was already cranking out the pictures and the flashes, blinding everyone around us. I kept telling myself that I'd appreciate the photos later, and that I could always throw him in the lake at the wedding venue if he didn't behave.

Pros' father, stepmother and stepsister joined us for coffee and conversation. My father was floored at how much Pros' stepsister resembled Alicia Witt, so I'll just call her Alicia for blogging purposes. My brother and his wife? They were still stuck in the middle of two flights, thanks to a mess of weather. My father promised to pick them up so Pros and I could attempt some sleep. This was not an easy feat, considering the door to the hotel was locked in two places and was swollen shut on top of that. Pros managed to kick the door open in a studly manner. The air conditioning was starting to work, and I had moved the annoyingly fragrant candles to another part of the "suite" (two bedrooms connected by a bathroom).

We were dead asleep within minutes, but my eyes soon snapped open with the one horror I should have seen coming. No hair dryer in the room! My hair is rather wavy, and my bangs have a double widow's peak that resembles Ruth Buzzi in "Laugh In" unless they are dried straight. This had me stewing much of the night until I was able to force myself to the reasonable solution of a Walmart run in the morning.

To be continued!

Here we go!

Pros and I are off to the wedding venue. Tra la! Yes, this is the actual location. Pretty, isn't it? A nice place to start a life with someone.

I'll have the details in a few days. Bye!

Waning days of living in sin

Oy, why do I feel like I'm too calm for my own good? My dress is just beautiful, although I'm a little unsure if the zipper is 100% lined up with the pattern in the front of the skirt. The seamstress designed a drawstring to yank the skirt into a perfect bustle, which looks just fabulous! How she managed this, but handed me a choker that is two different widths depending on if it's on the left or right side of my neck is beyond me. I'm steadfastly refusing to sweat the details.

Organizing picture taking details for the photographer's contract is another OY. It's mostly a matter of figuring out as many permutations of family members we can stand before someone needs to bring me something alcoholic. Making matters a little uncomfy is how to arrange pictures with Pros' parents, considering his stepmother has done so much work while his mom is showing up. Slight balancing act.

Apparently, my MOH (well, we only have one attendant each) has been emailing like crazy with several gals who are attending the rehearsal dinner, guaranteeing I'll be whisked away for a bachelorette party. If they try to stick a veil on my head, I may have to hurt someone. I'm not wearing a veil for the actual ceremony! Hopefully, the best man and my brother will take Pros out for a martini or two.

My college roomie Cats is a goddess of a pastor! She's putting together bulletins at her own expense and has done a ton of research to make this a personalized ceremony. With friends like this, who needs rabbis?

The only pain in the butt has been my dad. He grumbled so much about having to drive to airports to get people, I'm doing it myself. This includes getting my brother and his wife in Johnstown (of flood fame), then the pastor in Pittsburgh. Grumble...

Further bulletins as events warrant!

The little ones

I have nothing to really report at the moment (I'm oddly calm considering the insanity that will probably hit next week). Here are the guinea pigs.

Holding pattern

School year is over, which means I'm de facto laid off for the summer. Still haven't heard from any of the places that have my resume, including a couple of school districts. If it weren't for the wedding money coming in, we'd be in big trouble. The most annoying thing at the moment is being completely stir crazy. Maybe I'll go do something exciting like get my oil changed...

I'll admit, I wasn't looking forward to the wedding, but now I'm just looking forward to having something to DO.

Home Stretch!

Tomorrow is one month from W-Day! I'm finally getting to a place where I'm looking forward to the wedding instead of dreading the whole weekend. The shoes, despite my shrinking feet, somehow fit; saving me time, money, and aggravation trying to find new silver slippers (kid you not, the shoes are silver).

Still haven't heard from the seamstress, which could put the stress in her title, but I'm not flipping out yet. Hopefully Doc still has her phone number so I can check on the progress. Worst case scenario, I own a white lace dress that would do in a total pinch. It shouldn't come to that.

Pros found a tuxedo he likes and that doesn't make him look like a waiter. He'll look wonderful, I'm sure. We both have had our rings shipped to us, which is probably more important than the dress. Mine is very unique titanium, his is tungsten carbide. These things are better built than the Space Shuttle.

The prezzies have started arriving. A note from my beloved high school English teacher with a check that I wasn't expecting. HUGE box of dishes from my brother and sister in law. We still owe them their gift, which is a weekend in the Bridal Suite at our favorite B&B.

Still dealing with the details, like making sure Cats is there since she's the officiant and finding time to aquire the wedding license. Worst case scenario, we'll get it the Thursday before the wedding, but I wouldn't mind a quick overnight trip to Somerset. Everything SHOULD get done, I hope!

Annoying...

Didn't get either job for which I interviewed and the school year is winding down. Well, financially it's screeching to a halt. This is not good...

Freaky feet and other thangs

It's the oddest thing. My feet seem to have shrunken. My heels have been narrow in a lot of my shoes for a while, but a couple of days ago I realized the size 7 shoes I'd been trained to look for since I stopped growing... well, they were just too big. Tried on the 6 1/2. Perfect fit. What the hell?!? One of the best things about having cats for a college roomate was that we had the same shoe size. Now her feet are bigger after her two pregnancies (got a lot of shoes out of that deal), but why did mine get smaller?

In other news:

• Wedding invitations went out on Saturday, which is good news! Forgot to put the time of the ceremony on them, which is bad news. The invitation place is sending out OOPS cards, but I'm expecting a lot of calls.
• Subbing has been, shall we say, a challenge. Today was one of the worst, especially with kids dumping glue into the art supplies because I told them to quit fooling around with the magic markers. The custodian is going to need an extra cup of coffee tonight.
• There is a horrible shortage of teaching jobs in the Columbus area, mostly due to the shrinking enrollment in the city. Between two districts, over 400 teachers have been laid off and are flooding the already cramped job market. Still haven't heard about my teaching test scores, but I didn't feel good after finishing it. I've decided to go back into finance, if possible, and stay there until things even out in the education field. Waiting on a couple of job interviews at a really nice investment house in the area.
• I hate when I'm right sometimes. My friend T (that's actually what I call him, not just a Blog Code Name) just got royally dumped. How did I predict this one? He's 28 years her senior and she's been studying in Paris all quarter. I warned the guy, but he was still caught off-guard. Hopefully he'll stop blaming it all on their astrological signs long enough for me and Duffy to drag him out for a fun night out at our local Goth club. At least he can ogle at the cute young gals in corsets.
• Have I mentioned the wedding is only six weeks away? ACK!!!! I need to do too many things and have no idea what they are. Having a nice drink might be a good start...
  

Play adaptation

Letting Go

Based on the short story by P.D. Cacek

Scene: Cody and Jenna’s living room, which is now turned into Jenna’s sickroom. Center stage is a hospital bed with an IV stand to its left. A mannequin or something of human shape should occupy the bed, as long as the body is thin but not entirely visible to the audience. A straight-back chair and nightstand are to the right of the bed, a rocking chair to the left. On the nightstand are a vase of silk flowers and a tape recorder, which is softly playing selections from Mozart’s Requiem Mass. Also filling the background are the sounds of hospital machinery, as the figure on the bed is on life support. Two monitors and other items may serve as a representation of the machine. The walls are decorated with photographs; some of Cody and Jenna together, some of Cody in a football uniform, many of Jenna in various glamour shots. The front door to the house is DR, and a curtained window UR of the door is frosted from the winter cold. A small table is beneath the window. A staircase from the theater house to the stage is far left.

Jenna enters the theater as the lights begin to rise and remains standing towards the front in the audience, far stage left almost against the wall of the theater. There should not be any special lighting for her other than the illumination from the footlights while she stands in the house of the theater. She is tall, has long auburn hair, and holds herself with the grace of a professional model. She is wearing a gray pullover and faded jeans stuffed into cowboy boots. In her hands is a kelly green watch cap. She watches the scene with detached interest.

Cody enters through the DR door, dressed for the cold and carrying a stack of mail. He is broadly built and is obviously athletic, but has a slight limp due to a football injury to his right knee. He stomps off and snow that might have accumulated on his shoes and begins to remove his coat when he sees Jenna in the audience. He freezes his movements, and then shakes his head and proceeds with removing his coat and hat. It is identical to the hat Jenna is holding in her hands.

Jenna: Gee, and I thought you hated that hat! You thought if my agent saw me looking like that she’d burn my modeling contracts and head for the hills. Maybe the Bag Lady look suits you better than it did me? [Laughs gently and briefly twirls the hat on one finger.]

Cody: [Closes his eyes, shutting out the voice] Jenna?… [Opens his eyes again and this time addresses the figure in the bed] Jenna, it’s snowing outside today, absolutely gorgeous powder. [Places the mail on the UR table and crosses to stand behind the straight-back chair] I’m pretty sure the boys across the street will be using our backyard this afternoon for some good sledding runs. If they get too loud, let me know and I’ll shoo them away. Don’t want to interrupt your enjoyment of your music. It’s the best recording of this Mozart piece I could find.

Jenna: [Slowly climbs the stairs on stage right] It is a good recording. Excellent soloists, perfect conductor. Lacrymosa was always the piece that moved me the most, even before you took me to see Amadeus on our honeymoon. [Sits on the top step of stage left staircase] Interesting that you’re playing the Requiem Mass for me, considering my… current state.

Cody: [Quietly, to himself] You’re not real.

[A knock at the DR door startles him. He shakes his head vigorously. There is a second knock. He now believes the knock, at least, is real and crosses to answer. At the door is Helen, a slightly overweight middle-aged woman. She is holding a foil covered baking pan and an envelope. She is wearing a hooded down coat, large rubber boots and knit mittens.]

Helen: Ohmygod! Are you alright, Cody? [Shoves the tray into Cody’s hands and takes off her hood as she pushes past him into the room DC.] That was a tough slip you took on the driveway out there! I tried to get out there to give you a hand, but you were inside before I could get my galoshes on. It didn’t look like you hit your head but I was concerned all the same.

Cody: [Smiling slightly and shaking out his right leg carefully] Yeah, I’m fine. Just demonstrating how graceful ex-running backs can be when we put our minds to it.

Helen: [Takes back the tray and waves it under Cody’s nose.] Well, you can still rush, even with that bum knee. I figured since I was already halfway out the door anyway I’d just come over and check on you. Thought you might like some fresh cinnamon rolls. The pan isn’t too hot but the rolls are still good and warm. Oh, and you dropped a letter when you took that spill. I think it’s attached to the foil by some icing, I hope it isn’t too important.

Cody: [Smiling more broadly at the rolls, then grins at Helen and speaks jokingly.] Are you trying to make me fat, Mrs. E? How am I ever going to make a comeback if you keep doing this to me?

Helen: [Giggles flirtatiously and tosses her head. Slaps playfully at Cody with the envelope and shoves it in his hands.] Oh, you silly boy! Didn’t I tell you I like my men chunky? I’m going to put these in the kitchen for you and you can pop them in the oven whenever you’re ready for a little treat. [Crosses to offstage left with the pan.]

Jenna: [Still seated on the step and laughing at the exchange.] She may like her men chunky but you seem to like your ladies comatose. [Cody turns away from Jenna’s voice, pretending to be distracted by the contents of the envelope. Helen returns and taps him on the shoulder. Cody jumps slightly at the unexpected contact.]

Helen: Everything is set up!

Cody: [Gathering himself.] Thanks, thanks Helen.

Helen: [Reacts shyly to Cody calling her by her first name.] You know, I got a crock-pot full of beef stew cooking right this minute. Like to set it up early so I won’t miss my soaps. Anyways, there’ll be more than enough… [She looks over at the bed.] You’ve spent the last four years nursing that poor lamb and you never take care of yourself. How about I send some stew over for dinner? Save you the trouble of having to cook.

Cody: Um… I’d love it. Thanks. You’re a good neighbor.

Helen: I’ll stop in after Oprah with a big helping for you, but now I need to troop back home to see if my favorite couple survives that accident. She’s in a coma in the hospital and … [Looks at the bed and cuts herself off. Crosses to the door and opens it to go.] Oh, you don’t need me to rattle off plotlines. Your goodies are getting cold.

Cody: [Laughing.] Mrs. E, now that the door’s wide open, all of my goodies are a little chilly!

Helen: [Pokes him lightly in the ribs.] You’re just terrible! What am I going to do with you? [Pulls up her hood and exits.]

Cody: [Looking after the door.] Very little, Mrs. E. [Looks down at the envelope in his hands, this time reading the contents.]

Jenna: Letter from the Medical Center? The latest test results, I’m sure. It was one thing when I had breast cancer and beat it. Hell, I think I could have started a new fashion trend of Auschwitz Chic if my agent would have let me work when my hair fell out. Cody, you know this is different. This is inoperable brain cancer. Game, set, and match.

Cody: [To himself.] Lies with fancy names and huge price tags. [Sitting in the stage right chair by the bed and addressing in it.] Hey, baby, did you hear Mrs. E was here to visit? She sent over some fresh cinnamon rolls. They must be a thousand calories each, with enough cholesterol to kill every truck driver from here to the turnpike. How about I bring you one a little later? I could soak a piece in some warm water and feed it to you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? We should get a little more meat on you, babe. I know models are supposed to be skinny, but I think you’re overdoing it just a little.

Jenna: [Rising and walking into the living room slowly as Cody continues to look down at the bed.] I think you’re the one who’s overdone it. Yes, I’m sure a cinnamon roll would be great, a lot better tasting than that liquid diet from the catheter, but that’s the least of our problems. I think you know that, Cody. You fired that last nurse who dared to be honest with you. You made up a planned sabbatical saying you were writing a book about teaching physics through sports so you had an excuse to sit in this room all day. This house has a second mortgage and a home equity loan sunk into all this life support equipment.

Cody: [Continuing to talk to the bed, but is obvious that he is listening to her.] Remember when we first bought this house? You’d never lived in snow country before… poor little Californian. Jesus, you ran out into the first blizzard of the season wearing nothing but pajamas, just like a kid. I was sure you were going to catch pneumonia!

Jenna: I remember. You yelled at me all the way back to the house.

Cody: [Almost in a whisper.] I didn’t mean to.

Jenna: Cody, we have to talk. You need to let go.

Cody: I can’t, babe.

Jenna: [Mockingly.] You always were a coward, weren’t you, Cody? Afraid to face anything that might go against the Great Man’s Ideals, huh?

Cody: [Looking at Jenna for the first time since he walked in the house.] NO!

Jenna: [Crosses to stand left of the hospital bed.] Oh no? Then I guess you just like keeping me trapped in a rotting carcass. Makes an even better trophy than those stuffed dear heads your drunken buddies hang up over their fireplaces. Tell me, how much do you charge them for a look when they visit? [Cody jumps to his feet in anger. Jenna smiles.] Angry with me? Good. Anger’s one of the easier emotions to tackle, and you get to do the tackling rather than getting smacked with the ball in your hands.

Cody: [Weakly.] Sacked. Not smacked.

Jenna: I never learned how to speak proper football. [Twirls the watch cap on her finger again and laughs.] You know, you’re even sexier than usual when you’re angry. I think it’s the flared nostrils.

Cody: I’m losing my mind.

Jenna: [Holds her hat in both hands.] No you’re not, Cody.

Cody: [Closing his eyes.] Oh yeah, I’m gone.

Jenna: Cody, open your eyes and look at me. [Cody does not move.] It shouldn’t be that hard to look at me. After all, you’ve seen me plenty of times before without makeup. It should be a piece of cake after the last couple of months. Or have you gotten to the point where you like your women brainless and drooling?

Cody: Jenna. [Opens his eyes and looks at her. She smiles and waves back at him.] But you can’t be! You’re not dead!

Jenna: Aren’t I? This isn’t me in that bed. It’s nothing anymore.

Cody: You’re wrong, it’s still you!

Jenna: Oh really. Do you really think that’s me smiling up at you, just about to sit up? That’s an involuntary facial tic brought on by atrophy. [Reaches out to the figure and then draws back.] The cancer destroyed my brain. There is nothing left to wake.

Cody: [Stroking the head of the figure in the bed.] But I made you a promise, and I can’t go back on it. [Walks around the bed and sits on the left edge between the figure and Jenna.] I promised I’d do everything in my power to keep you alive. I promised you it wouldn’t end like this.

Jenna: But it’s already ended, Cody, don’t you understand? The only thing you’re keeping alive now is a memory. Please, let me go!

Cody: [Reaching back toward the figure behind him.] I can’t, Jenna. I love you.

Jenna: [Sits in the rocking chair and rocks gently. Speaks quietly.] I know. Love’s a pretty powerful thing… but sometimes it can do more harm than good. You’ve been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore. That shouldn’t have to exist. [Stops rocking and sits on the forward edge of the rocking chair.] Cody, I want to die now.

Cody: [Shakes his head and rises suddenly. He crosses back to the right side of the bed, pacing between it and the life support system.] No, Jenna, I won’t let you die! I can’t—… [He chokes and is unable to continue, standing by the machine.]

Jenna: [Smiling.] Oh, honey, you always did have delusions of grandeur, didn’t you? Is it fun playing God with my life in the balance? It can’t be. The truth is, you aren’t really doing anything but prolonging the agony, yours and mine.

Cody: Jenna…I…

Jenna: [Stands and pulls the watch cap onto her head.] I know, but it has to end sometime and it might as well be now. So how about it, cowboy? [Strikes a pose with her legs apart, pelvis out, head tipped back.] Is the little lady worth it? [Cody turns and reaches out for the machine, his hand shakes and drops, as does his head. He turns back to look at her. Jenna’s pose relaxes.] No, Cody, you’ll just be letting me go.

[Cody takes a sharp intake of breath and turns back to the machine. As he touches it, the hospital noises fade out one at a time. Each time the noise diminishes Jenna steps backwards towards offstage left and the lights lower. Finally, only the music is playing the end of Lacrymosa from Mozart’s Requiem Mass and Jenna is almost off stage left. He turns to the tape player and shuts this off as well as the set goes dark.]

Jenna: Thank you.

End Scene

Funny nightmares

It's been the oddest thing. I've been having nightmares about the wedding, but not the kind I'd expect to have. The first one was on the actual wedding day, finding out that everyone who hadn't RSVPed decided to show up. EVERYONE, even if they hadn't gotten an invitation or if they didn't even know us. My main memory of the dream was of me sitting on the ground, watching double decker buses (the ones in London) go past me and onto the lawn for the ceremony. My main thought was how we'd make the cake last for everyone.

Last night took that cake. I woke up convinced that everything had gone to hell planning-wise. Why? Because the dream was that Pros and I, before the wedding, had to produce and star in a production of Pirates of Penzance! Why? I have no idea, but my main terror was that Pros is a baritone and could never sing the tenor lead part of Fredrick. To make matters worse, he was practicing a song from the wrong show! It was enough to wake me up moaning in horror, convinced that my dress had been altered to look like Mabel's costume, which was white and orange.

At least I can laugh at these odd trips into my subconscious.

Quickie update

Pros and I are currently in the Outer Banks. It can be seen as me with a group of scientists or him with a group of gals. Either way, we're having a lovely time. The house is unbelievable, although the weather tempers the fun at the moment. Fortunately, Pros mixes a mean pitcher of drinks to make up for it.

Yes, I was so glad to get back to subbing, but I'm just as relieved to be away for a weekend. My second day back, I got to deal with a school fire set by one of the seventh graders. Next week, two room sweeps with a drug sniffing dog. This is junior high?

Oh yeah, and I apparently have to take yet another Praxis test before Ohio will transfer my license to teach. Sheesh!

Back to the Chalk Board!

As much as I adore Doc as a friend, it was an amazing relief that she has hired a new person to permanently work in the office. Originally I had planned to help out and answer phones while the new gal was learning the ropes, but I practically RAN out of the office the moment the employment offer was accepted. There were just too many personality conflicts with the others in the front office staff, and my pal the nurse was too busy taking blood samples to have my back. Nurse and I are going out and grousing soon, so at least we're still going to hang and pal around. Doc and I are having dinner next week, so that isn't a concern.

The best thing is that I'm teaching again!!!

About Mags

A large portion of my friends is abuzz about a disaster of a court battle ahead for a Subgenius gal known as Mary Magdalen, or Mags for short. In brief, her ex has found pictures of her and a judge who is willing to accept them as proof that she should lose, at least temporarily, custody of her son. She isn't even allowed to write him a note or receive a birthday card as communication between the two. The pictures? They were of her in a dress that left very little to the imagination and a mask that resembled a bull skull. She was attending a Subgenius event called XDay, specifically the Deity Ball where people were encouraged to dress as their favorite god, goddess or false icon.

A lot of reactions spring to mind. I don't like Mags. We just have never been friendly beyond a general hello, and this summer ended with a big argument with both of us badmouthing each other. However, this does not make her a bad mother. One of the few topics we were ever able to discuss was how well she handles the care and education of her son. He has been homeschooled in such a way that he has been well socialized. She has also taken great care to raise him away from situations such as XDay. From what I have seen, this is not being taken into account.

Mags is also, by far, not the only Subgenius with a child. In hindsight, she probably could have noted her ex's previous attempts to interfere with the custody arrangement and reacted by staying out of the spotlight. My friend, known as Armand Geddyn (yes, we are a group of punsters with our names), took great pains to curb his visibility when he was attempting to gain full custody of his own children, and he was successful. This is not the way Mags operates, but since she doesn't let these aspects of her life overlap, it shouldn't cost her the privilege of raising her son.

Why does this concern me? Because, although I have no children of my own, I work with them on a daily basis. I was also at the Deity Ball in that Marilyn Monroe getup I previously posted. If Mags were to lose custody of her child, it sets a horrible precedent for anyone who lives a counterculture lifestyle. Okay, my life is rarely counterculture these days. Pros and I just can't afford the upkeep! However, are pictures of ridiculous things I did ten years ago going to resurface when I apply for tenure as a full time teacher? What a chilling thought.

Shake me or stir me!

How to make a JacklynHyde

Ingredients: 1 part competetiveness 1 part brilliance 5 parts energy

Method: Combine in a tall glass half filled with crushed ice. Add a little cocktail umbrella and a dash of emotion

Username:http://www.go-quiz.com/cocktail/cocktail.php">Username:%20name="uname">

Confessions of a reality tv addict

Hello, my name is Jacklyn, and I'm a reality television addict.

It could be worse. I could watch any and all of these show. Oh, who am I kidding?

It started when I was a kid and the poison was the closely related genre of game shows. My grandmother and I would watch Tic-Tac-Dough and The Price is Right while playing Go Fish and War. It's probably fortunate that the addiction formed wasn't to poker after all the card games we played. Once I was a little older, the fascination of Dating Game and Newlywed Game caught my attention (I wondered why they didn't show Divorce Court right afterwards), but this just wasn't satisfying.

Then, The Real World hit the airwaves. I was hooked, wanting to befriend Julie and / or meet up with Andre. Thankfully, my attempt to join Season 3 of the show failed, but I happened to be a Neilson Ratings Family when it aired. You're welcome. Unfortunately, the shows never quite made it to the delicate combination of pathos and sensitivity that season had. Okay, I'm not counting anything Puck did with the sensitive side, but you get the idea. My interest waned.

Then, the Writer's Guild strike. It cost a cousin of mine a shot at writing for her own television show, but considering it was Fish Police, this isn't a big loss. However, this is when I was given such shows as The Bachelor (which made my own dating life look calm) The Mole (the only show since Real World that I wanted to be on, but it was cancelled stupidly) and Who Wants to Marry My Dad (which made me cringe that I was getting to the age of the contestants). Survivor took a little more time to grow on me due to my distaste for CBS in general, but has now pulled me in for the majority of the shows.

What am I addicted to now?

• The Bachelor is a must for Monday nights. For some reason, I love that show so much that when I wanted to drop a BIG hint that I wanted to marry Pros, I asked, "Will you accept this final rose?" It worked.
• Tuesdays are, at the moment, quiet. We usually watch reruns of Babylon 5 on DVD (something I highly recommend, even a decade after the original airing).
• Wednesdays occasionally have me checking out The Biggest Loser, but not so much until the full fledged season returns. However, I am living for Project Runway! Not as much fun as last season, but not all shows are lucky to have JayMcCarroll.
• Survivor on Thursdays. Enough said.

Feel free to make fun of my tastes, but also feel free to buy me a copy of The Mole on DVD.

New Arrival

We now have a new female guinea pig (or PEEG as Pros pronounces it). Washu's old friend Bijou passed away last April after a long, happy life, and Washu has been rather lonesome. Pandora has become a friend, but it isn't quite the same to a guinea pig. Pros is now downstairs helping the new little one settle in. We've just named her Violet because of the deep tint of her eyes. I'll post pics as I have them.

Migod, she's just the cutest little thing!

It got better!

The last couple of days have vastly improved my mood. Dad calmed down enough to apologize in time for me to open some lovely gifts that somehow safely arrived from Philly. Pros took me to a fabulous new eatery in town called Z Cucina (omigod, I'm still fantasizing about the appetizer). Work for Doc is a little less stressful while the sporatic subbing is downright hilarious, meaning I've stopped caring if the annoying kids hate me for getting them in trouble. This weekend is off in Somerset nailing down more wedding plans and spending time with Pros' dad and stepmom. Hope the hot tub is working!

Bad mood by osmosis

Everyone in the office was tense today, to the point where one of the gals started sobbing twice. Just called my father to let him know a package he sent me wasn't being delivered because it was incorrectly sent "signature required". He screamed at me that he hadn't made the mistake, then hung up on me. Now I'm the one who's crying.

Great way to spend my last day of my 33rd year, isn't it?

Lilith in Twilight

It's been a while since I've posted any of my creative writing. This poem is based on the Lilith of Midrash (Jewish folklore) and not my dear friend / fellow blogger Lilith von Fraumench. Brief explanation is that she was the first wife of Adam and fled from Eden when Adam tried to make her his sexual inferior. When she fled, her name changed from Lila (night) to Lilith (night demon). It is a story that has long fascinated me. Enjoy!

*******

I was the first.

Evening’s sweet breath raised me

Calling my name

Lila.

Night melted into dewy dawn

And you rose from the earth with me.

The breath sighed

Adam.

Two souls, one garden.

I didn’t ask to be in this garden,

Especially if you claim it all as yours.

You will not lie over me, reign over me.

We are of the same dust that would stain my back.

I am not flesh of your flesh, but life of my own

And when you return to dust

I will continue.

I will leave the garden you claim as yours

Dance with the evening star and lie in the waters.

You will join me in exile soon enough

Toting that pitiful piece you call wife.

I will not harm her, old friend,

Even when the evils of your Fall are blamed on me.

Adam,

You have robbed Woman of life’s sweetness.

She will never know the joy of rising from the dust,

But the fruits of her labor have bound her to a grave.

I will try to comfort her from my waters

Even if she returns my comfort with curse.

I curse the name of God and fly to the sea.

I was the first.

I continue.

But I never asked to be in this garden

And not even God and His angels can make me stay.

Change of fortune

For the time being, I'm cutting back my substitute work drastically. There's a combination of reasons. My friend The Doc found herself horribly shortstaffed on no notice, and she asked me to come in to help run the front desk. At first I was only willing to come in for a few days a week, but after the day I had subbing, I was happy to delete my schedule for as long as she is willing to keep me on staff. These kids, who have seen me in their classroom for months, suddenly became more insubordinate and downright rude than I've ever seen them. Let someone else put up with them for a while.

I'll also be working a few hours here and there for Pros' mom's little accounting company. She tends to only have part time employees, and I'm always happy to help out soon to be family, especially if she's willing to pay a little to help with the bills. Maybe we'll start to talk more once we have a common subject, like work. It couldn't hurt!

Family portrait

This picture is from my brother's April wedding. Gram and Mom are seated. In the back is Grampa, Dad, my brother the rocker and his amazing bride, Pros and me on the end. Mom and Dad have each lost well over 30 pounds each since this photo was taken, but you get the general idea of where I came from.

Bad Girl Lesson #1

From The Bad Girl's Guide to Getting Personal, a book I received from Lynx. One of the best prezzies this season!

Things to Do with Condoms

(Use bright-colored, non-lubricated condoms unless otherwise indicated, or if you're like me and must use non-latex as well)

• Pet galoshes
• Slip on each foot before showering at the gym or at any frat house
• Cut off the tip, snip out two armholes, and make into a mod raincoat for Barbie!
• Lunchbox snack bags for carrots, cookies, or fruit
• Tie to the stem of your wineglass at parties so no one steals your glass
• Anti-theft, disposable cell phone case
• Open package, unroll, and drape on seatbacks to reserve your spot in crowded theaters when making a popcorn run
• Sassy garter belt / stash bag for formal events
• Fill two with Jell-o and pack in your bra for a Cheap-O boob job (If you get lucky, do a quick bait and switch. If you don't, you've got a late-night snack for the ride home.)
• Vibrator storage / travel bag
• Fill with Kool-Aid or juice and freeze (Makes a cool and refreshing Penis Pop!)
• Unroll a lubricated condom over each hand to moisturize hands and cuticles while watching movies at home.