My kind of lease renewal

I moved into my apartment in August of 2007 and signed a lease agreeing to pay a rent of [large sum]. In August of 2008 my lease came up for renewal and I thought I'd be looking at a rent of [large sum + $100]. So I was pleased to get a letter from the management company saying that, as I am a valued tenant*, they would like to renew my lease at a rent of [large sum + $85]. Oh, how nice! I promptly signed it and turned it in.

A few months later the prices of everything were exploding, so we got a note informing us that rents would have to be raised to compensate, at which point my rent became [large sum + $85 + $35]. Well, less nice, but oh well.

In all the time that I have lived here the building has never been full, so as the time for my lease renewal approached and I steeled myself to see [large sum + ($85 + $35) + $100]** on the lease renewal letter, I decided to ask my Boss for some help.

Before he (for his sins) became my Boss, he was, among other things, an accountant and an investment banker. Now he is the CFO of a medium-sized*** engineering firm, so he knows a bit about markets and negotiations. I figured that he could give me some guidance on how to ask for certain concessions in exchange for the rent increase. Maybe one of the covered parking spaces ($30/month) at no charge or something.

But before he and I could sit down and map out a Rent Concession Strategy for Someone Who is Too Nice for Her Own Good, I got this year's lease renewal letter.

Dear Resident:

Due to the increasing costs of maintaining the community, it is necessary for your rental rate to increase effective 9/1/2009.

Uh-oh.

As required by Section 29-54 of the Montgomery County Landlord/Tenant Code and other applicable provisions**** of law, this letter is to provide you with sixty (60) days noticed of your rent increase. The voluntary rent guideline set by Montgomery County of 4.4%.

Uh-huh.

We look forward to your continued residency with [building name]. Below you will find your renewal lease options. Please mark your choice for renewal and return this form to the office by August 10, 2009.

___ Yes, I/we wish to renew my/our lease agreement for one year at the rental rate of $[exactly what I'm paying now], a 0.00% increase. You are currently renting at the rate of $[large sum + etc].

What? I re-read that paragraph.

___ Yes, I/we wish to renew my/our lease agreement for one year at the rental rate of $[exactly what I'm paying now], a 0.00% increase. You are currently renting at the rate of $[large sum + etc].

Yup, that's what it said. Moving on.

___ Yes, I/we wish to renew my/our lease agreement on a month to month basis at the rental rate of [large sum + ($85 + $35) + $100] a 6.49% increase. You are currently renting at the rate of [my current rent].

If you feel this is excessive, you may request the Montgomery County Department of Housing & Community Affairs to review this matter.

Etc.

Whoo-hoo. My Boss and I agreed that my best choice is to leave this sleeping dog slumbering happily in place, so I have signed that puppy pretty quick and will be dropping it off at the office at my first opportunity.


*Which I am assuming means that I pay my rent on time. But I don't discount that I am relatively clean, quiet, and cooperative. And they would really value me if they knew that I am typing this with the air conditioning off and the windows open. No point in using all that store-bought air when it's so nice out right now.

**Huh. Someone who didn't know me who read that might be lead to think that I am not as much of a math imcompetant as I sometimes am.

***Read that as "small-sized" if you represent the Small Business Administration, please.

****It actually says "provisiions," but let that pass. Let she who is without typo ...

My thought process: a cross-section

"Now pay attention, because it's very muddly and half the time I won't know what I'm talking about."

Roderick Alleyn in Death in a White Tie by Ngaio Marsh

Not to mention the obligatory scantily clad girl

These two words usually keep me out of a theater: Ray Cooney. Cooney is an English typist who cranks out one feeble farce after another. These lamentable confections jumble together stick-figure characters to recite stale jokes and play out thinly stretched, formulaic situations. Think six-minute Carol Burnett sketches expanded to 2 1/4 hours. But without the laughs.

Michael Toscano, in the Washington Post in a glowing review for It Runs in the Family at Little Theatre of Alexandria

Not the conversation she planned to have

On Memorial Day I was attending a cook-out in Falls Church just up the street from the town's Memorial Day Fair. I wandered around the Fair, mainly looking for the friend who was handing out show fliers for All My Sons, figuring that I could give her a hand. I couldn't find Tina, but I was individually intercepted by several members of an environmental group*, who were working the fair in order to fundraise and educate.

They had been well trained and thus got right and my path with a cheery hello and a some kind of "Do you know about [Organization]"-type question. I blew each off with something like "No, but I'm looking for a friend. Maybe later."

Never did find Tina, but I figured that the young environmental volunteers deserved their turn so I went back to the last of the interceptors and we started to talk.

"I didn't find my friend, but you wanted to tell me about [Organization]."

"Yes! We ---" and she actually got a few words into her pitch before I stopped her.

"Actually, I have one question." Pause "What is [Organization]'s position on hydropower?"**

And then we had the big pause as truth battled with telling me what she deduced that I wanted to hear.

She told me slowly and carefully that she, personally, did not have a position on hydropower and wasn't positive what [Organization]'s position was but she did not think that they support it.

We looked at the binder she was carrying which showed pretty pictures of wind farms and solar and no pictures of Eagle buffets.

So instead of her telling me how important it is to save the environment and couldn't I make a contribution today (no, not based on looking at a binder at a fair), she got to hear my Benefits of Hydropower speech.

(Summary: Hydro is clean and renewable. No form of energy is without cost or limitation: wind farms can often have the same effect on birds that Captain Sullenberger's Flight 1549 had on that flock near the Hudson and they can be very noisy, disrupting wildlife reproductive habits; solar works well in areas with lots of sunshine, so Forks, Washington wouldn't get much use from it; geothermal is expensive to build and maintain; nuclear power plants are hideously expensive to build and I'm still not sure about the waste issue; etc ... Hydro has its costs and limitations as well, obviously, but it should be part of the energy mix.)

I told her that I'm in favor of any clean/renewable source of energy, including nuclear power. "Basically, I am in favor of prett' near any energy source that doesn't involve scrapping the tops off of mountains." She liked that sentence. Most people I've said to do, but then I don't have a lot of close friends in the coal industry.

She also seemed to agree with my assessment that "clean coal" - like compassionate conservatism*** and, oh, kindly spouse abuse, tries to twist-tie an otherwise not only unrelated, but actually opposite, attribute onto something unpopular.

Just for good measure I threw in my fun fact about electric cars: They are only as clean as the electricity that powers them, so great if you live in Idaho which is largely hydro-powered and terrible if you live in West Virgina, also known as the Mountaintop Removal State.

I believe I also mentioned that the word "hydropower" has not - to my knowledge - appeared in Time magazine in any context in the past several years, unless they are covering China. Environment + China = bad.

I'm not suggesting damming free-running waterways, just perhaps adding a hydro component to the 90% of Americans dams that don't yet have it. And keeping hydro as part of the menu of alternative energies.

So we left it that I would check [Organization]'s website - and I would if I had been smart enough to write down their name - and she would consider bringing up the concept of hydro with the people who send her out to be lectured by random passers by at Memorial Day Fairs.

I'm glad we had this little talk.

And, for the record, here is Maryland's energy mix for 2007****:

Coal 23,509,862
Petroleum 3,571,272
Hydroelectric Conventional 2,298,910
Natural Gas 1,522,443
Nuclear 1,251,416
Other Gases 488,197
Other Biomass 371,074
Wood and Wood Derived Fuels 149,118

Total 33,162,292

Maryland’s coal-fired power plants typically supply more than one-half of the electricity generation within the State. Nuclear power typically supplies more than one-fourth of generation, and petroleum- and natural gas-fired plants supply much of the remainder. Although Maryland produces a small amount of coal in the West, most of the State’s coal-fired power plants burn coal shipped from West Virginia. The State’s only nuclear plant, the dual-unit Calvert Cliffs facility, supplies all of Maryland’s nuclear power. The Conowingo hydroelectric plant on the Susquehanna River, one of Maryland's largest generation facilities, provides almost all of the State’s hydroelectricity. Approximately one-third of Maryland households use electricity as their main source of energy for home heating.

Coal includes anthracite, bituminous coal, subbituminous coal, lignite, waste coal, and synthetic coal.

Other includes non-biogenic municipal solid waste, batteries, chemicals, hydrogen, pitch, purchased steam, sulfur, tire-derived fuels, and miscellaneous technologies.

Other Biomass includes biogenic municipal solid waste, landfill gas, sludge waste, agricultural byproducts, other biomass solids, other biomass liquids, and other biomass gases (including digester gases and methane).

Other Gases includes blast furnace gas, propane gas, and other manufactured and waste gases derived from fossil fuels.

Petroleum includes distillate fuel oil (all diesel and No. 1, No. 2, and No. 4 fuel oils), residual fuel oil (No. 5 and No. 6 fuel oils and bunker C fuel oil), jet fuel, kerosene, petroleum coke, and waste oil.

Wood and Wood Derived Fuels includes paper pellets, railroad ties, utility poles, wood chips, bark, red liquor, sludge wood, spent sulfite liquor, and black liquor, with other wood waste solids and wood-based liquids.

*And if I remember the name of the group, I'll update this post with it.
**Disclosure statement: I worked for two years for the National Hydropower Association.
***Which is not to say that conservatives are not compassionate. Most of the conservatives I know are kind and generous people. But when the brand has Dick Cheney, Anne Coulter, and Rush Limbaugh as the front people, "compassion" will have to be attached by way of staple-gun.
****Source: The Energy Information Administration of the Department of Energy.

Haaave you met Ted?

It is a cheery myth among my friends that I know everyone. One time I was presenting an award at Silver Spring Stage's annual awards party and Michael introduced me by saying that I needed no introduction as I know everyone. I got to the mike and something like, "Not quite. There are eight or so of you here that I haven't met. Please see my on your way out."

So tonight after the Nats game*, David and I decided to take the Circulator bus back to Union Station instead of fighting the crowds getting on the green line. David waved his wallet (which contains his SmarTrip card) over the reader on the bus and then I began explaining to the bus driver that I didn't have mine with me.

"Throw her off the bus!" commanded a voice from the front. The driver laughed and waved me back and David and I went and sat with theater-friend Blake (for the commanding voice was his), who was on the bus and who had been at the game. How nice to run into someone we knew!

We were chit-chatting waiting for the bus to get underway and someone near by took a closer look at me. "Leta?" It was Brick, one of my Markland friends, who I haven't seen in probably ten years or more. So that was nice, too!**

David watching me begin to ping-pong a conversation between these people from the disparate parts of my life and asked me if there was anyone on the bus I didn't know.

"Yes," I said, pointing to the nearest stranger. "Him." I stuck out my hand, "Hi, I'm Leta."

"Brian." He smiled and shook my hand.

So that's one more down and only 5 billion and some to go before I actually do know everyone.


*Pirates 8, Nats 5 in ten innings. Alas.
**Actual tally for the evening: Lauren from work was at the game but wasn't there with us, I saw her near the consessions; Jacki and Evan were at the game and I got to say "hi" to them during the 6th inning; Blake and Brick (and Brian) were on the bus; Blake introduced me to his friend Ashley and her friend while we were underway; and Rich and Peggy were on the Metro. Brett is going to be surprised to read this, but I didn't see anyone from my high school all evening.

Best Bio Ever

I do the programs for Silver Spring Stage and I see a lot of theater. Nonetheless, this is the best bio I have ever read.

Samantha (Sprintze) is a 6th grader at [school] and is overjoyed to be part of Fiddler on the Roof Jr. This is her first time ever on stage. She loves acting, singing, swimming, and cooking. She would like to thank her Aunt Leta for getting her into theater, and Mr. Johnson for the training.

Thanks, Mr. Keillor

"The Episcopal Church - where the Lamb is free-range."

paraphrased from the "A Prairie Home Companion" re-run this weekend.

On the shopping list

My church, like most churches, has baskets in the narthex* to collect nonperishable food for the hungry. As the food went to Silver Spring HELP, the baskets were informally known as the HELP baskets.

I've been contributing off and on all my life, usually whatever random staple I happened to have on hand as I was leaving for church. And after Mom moved from her apartment to Old People's Prison**, I put all the gluten-containing food from her kitchen in the HELP baskets, which was rather a bonus because Mom had pretty wide tastes in food and she didn't buy store brands too often.

I haven't worried too much about what I was putting in the baskets, but ITE*** food and money are walking a little closer together in everyone's minds. I've mentioned before that gluten-free food often costs more and is harder to find than "regular" food. I'm not talking about gluten-free cupcakes, but a more standard cupboard item: breakfast cereal. I gave up eating breakfast cereal when I couldn't find any that either wasn't sweetened with barley malt (which has gluten) or didn't cost a depressing amount of money.

Chex Cereals (owned by General Mills) has recently taken the barley malt out of Rice Chex and replaced it with molasses. They also work to prevent cross-contamination, making these cereals appropriate for Celiacs. This is good news, but cereal is still - comparatively - an expensive food item and food pantries often mention that it is something that they run out of quickly.

So if you read this blog and if you contribute to your local food pantry, I am asking a favor. Please consider buying a few gluten-free items when considering what to donate.

Some suggestions:

Nature's Path - they're Canadian! They must be nice.

EnviroKidz cereals**** - Thanks to my friend Doug I have a sentimental attachment to the Leapin' Lemurs cereal;

Rice Chex;

Amy's Organic soups - Several soups are gluten-free (and clearly marked so) and a few are even corn-free. (And if there is an allergy more annoying than gluten, it's corn because HFCS is in every damn thing.)



*lobby
** Come on, really, if the door to your room gets shut and someone else has to open it, or else you can't leave your room, isn't that rather prison-like? If you can't go into the courtyard unless someone holds the door open; if your vitamins are confiscated by the staff; if you get out of bed and go to bed on their schedule - doesn't that justify the phrasing?
***ITE = In This Economy. Thanks, David for the initialism.
****Nature's Path owns Envirokidz

Treat of the Week

When Sara and I were kids my Mom instituted something that even then I thought was really smart and admire more as an adult: The Treat of the Week.

We would go to the grocery store with Mom every Saturday and would each be allowed to pick out one treat. One. It could be anything we wanted - and thank goodness we weren't required to share - but it could only be one. One box of sugary cereal? Sure, fine. Two? No. One box of Pop-Tarts filled with chocolate frosting? Sure, fine. Two? No. One entire baked ham? Sure, fine.

Mom didn't put restrictions on what the treat could be,* nor did she parcel it out during the week. We could ration it for the week or eat the whole thing on Saturday when we got home. They were our treats. But once it was gone, it was gone. No more treats until the next Saturday.

Sara and I had a nice sense of empowerment about being allowed to chose our own treats and Mom was the spared an entire grocery store of of us whining for more stuff.

For what was probably several months straight, Sara and I each chose a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough. We'd keep it in the freezer and snack on it, usually making it last until the next week.

Instead of baking the cookies, we'd eat the dough raw**, sometimes cutting off lady-like pieces, sometimes just gnawing on it straight from the tube, which prett' near grossed Mom out of existence but as the rule about not micromanaging our Weekly Treats was hers, she'd just arrange to be out of the kitchen whenever we went looking for a snack. She was probably grateful during that period that she worked a sixty-hour week because if I was awake, I was probably looking around for a snack.***

As an adult I was delighted when Ben and Jerry's introduced Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream and considered it an homage to the Treat of the Week whenever I had some. Then I got that stupid auto-immune disorder and can no longer eat CCCD ice cream.

But thanks to Whole Foods I can at least go back to having random bits of raw cookie dough. Until they realize how much I like it and discontinue carrying it, they have gluten-free cookie dough made by a company called French Meadow that tastes remarkably like anybody else's cookie dough.**** It comes already sliced, which while reducing the level of just-like-when-I-was-a-kid inheirant in consuming raw "food," it does make it more office-friendly.

I buy a couple of boxes, put one in the freezer and one in the fridge, and most days after lunch I wander down to the "coffee mess" and collect one to nibble on back at my desk. Corporate at our company (I work for Corporate) is pretty much a junior UN so no one questions any one's possibly odd-looking food.

It's from Whole Foods and it's gluten-free so it costs enough to enforce a one-per day rationing.

And there are nine per box, so it's more like Treat of the Every Other Week.


* Which is an impressive example of self-control as most of our choices probably made her gag.
** See what I mean?
** This is still true. I am constantly hungry.
**** In the gluten-free world, tasting like the ordinary product is a very good thing.

Family-friendly theater

In the middle of the front row of the dress circle on the rare occasion of the first performance of an original English play sits a young lady of fifteen. She is a very charming girl—gentle, modest, sensitive—carefully educated and delicately nurtured—very easily flurried and perhaps a little too apt to take alarm when no occasion for alarm exists—but, nevertheless, an excellent specimen of a well-bred young English gentlewoman; and it is with reference to its suitability to the eyes and ears of this young lady that the moral fitness of every original English play is gauged on the occasion of its production. It must contain no allusions that cannot be fully and satisfactorily explained to this young lady; it must contain no incident, no dialogue, that can, by any chance, summon a blush to this young lady’s innocent face.

Well, gentlemen, I have no objection to this young lady. I think, on the contrary, that the presence of this young lady has exercised a most wholesome restrictive influence on the character of our few original plays, and I shall be sorry indeed if the day ever comes when her parents and guardians will find it advisable to prohibit her attendance on the occasions I have described. I look upon her presence at my own “first nights” as a direct and most gratifying personal compliment—the more so, as I happen to know that, on no account whatever, would she be permitted to be present at a première of M. Victorien Sardou or M. Alexandre Dumas.

But when a comparison is instituted between our original English drama, such as it is, and the drama of France, such as that is, I think that the restrictive influence exercised—and most properly and wholesomely exercised—by this admirable girl should be fully, freely, and frankly admitted. And it is a never-ending source of wonder to me that, with the whole gamut of human emotion to play upon; with no restraining influence of any kind whatever; and with the dead certainty that no innocent girl of fifteen will ever run a chance of being affected by their improprieties, the dramatists of France can only ring out threadbare variations of that dirty old theme—the cheated husband, the faithless wife, and the triumphant lover.

(reprinted in The Era, Feb. 21, 1885, p. 14 from a speech by W.S. Gilbert)

I am really right

The only thing better than being proved right is being proved right about the same thing more than once. Being proved really right.

Okay, so four years ago we established that my friend Samantha's theater job is that of stage manager. At the age of seven she was noticing as much about the technical stuff as she was about the story.

She is now a very pre-tween 11* and, it seems, has not changed in her basic nature. She may sing and dance - she has been cast in her school's upcoming "Fiddler on the Roof" as one of the younger daughters and she also sings very nice solos in church - but she is a stage manager at heart.

How do I know this? Because her cousin Charles (the future producer) was in the 6th - 8th grade play at school which I saw on Friday and Sam saw on Saturday**. Our conversation after church on Sunday went like this:

Me: So did you see Charles's show?
The Stage Manager DBA an 11-year-old-girl: Yeah. The scene changes took for-ever!
Me: I know!
The Stage Manager DBA an 11-year-old-girl: Charles said they only had two people moving sets, but ---
Me: -- even so!

I think for her next birthday I'm going to buy Sam a bunch of black long-sleeve t-shirts to wear backstage while she calls shows.

And next month Charles and I (and the rest of the crowd) will be seeing Sam in "Fiddler." I'm also willing to bet that The Producer DBA an 11-year-old-boy will have some suggestions for how to improve the gross.



*Some 11-year-olds are still little girls, some of them are seconds away from teendom. Sam is 11 going on 17 and yet still a sweet girl withal.

**And he was adorable. His best moment was as the train conductor in an early scene. He warns the New Yorkers to avoid Lonesome Polecat because of the big feud going on. They are determined to go. And with his father's deadpan delivery Charles says "Well, I hope you've got lots of insurance." "Insurance? Why?" "Ricochets."

Very very rare

See? It is possible to take a picture of me where I don't have my camera smile.

CRS

I have a pretty decently developed case of CRS* It has gotten to the point that prett' near any time I agree to something I request a follow up e-mail because the chances that I will remember whatever it is all the way to my car are remote. Or even to the other side of the room. Sometimes I forget by the time I hang up the phone.

I was explaining this to someone the other day and said that one day someone will ask me the Important Question and my answer will be, "Oh, darling, you've made me so happy! Yes, of course, I'll marry you. And I'll love you forever. But do me a favor? E-mail me and remind me?"


*Can't Remember Stuff

Not what you'd call shy

An interview with Leta Who Never Runs Out of Things to Say.

Although, tragically, Mike did edit out my chirping "Hi, Honey!" and "Hi, Sweetie!" every time someone came in the room, which could practically have served as a DNA fingerprint that it was really me talking.

How to listen at work

Radio in this area is pretty bad. And the cheap little Sony that I have on my desk generally picks up about 5 stations, three of which I actually listen to: NPR on 88.5 (WAMU); classic rock on the sad, pathetic remains of 94.7; and Top 20* on 107.3.

Whereas I like to complain, David is a problem solver at heart, so he gave me a very nice JBL iPod dock for Christmas. I have it on the desk at work and I listen to Morning Edition on the radio until 10:00 and then plug in myPod for the rest of the day. I generally go through about 50 - 80 songs between 10:00 and whenever I chose to leave and, because they are on myPod, they are all songs that I like, although that doesn't stop me from glancing over every so often and thinking "Oh! I like that song!" Such a genius, I tell you.... (At this minute, it's Gene Kelly melting me with "Singin' in the Rain" from a collection of movie music.)

I had been very foot-draggy about ripping my CDs to the computer, but now that I use myPod at work so much, I'm more inspired. As of this morning, there are 901 songs on myPod and I'm hearing music that has been just sitting and waiting for me, feeling all neglected.

The other inspiration to better populate those bit receptors is that Carl, with whom I'm performing in Rehearsal for Murder, is a DJ (weddings, not radio) and we tend to talk music a lot. He has challenged me to put together a mix-CD of songs I like and he will do the same for me. If I'm going to put it on a CD, I need to have it on the computer, so I've been ripping up a storm.**

Because no one should ask for a CD of my favorites and not find the Partridge Family on it, I jumped ahead in my mostly alphabetical ripping order, which means that I get the occasional "I Think I Love You" or "Point Me in the Direction of Albuquerque" at the office, which only improves my day.

The hard part will be narrowing down the playlist to something manageable, but I have decided that it should be a true sampler: pop music new and old; what David calls "art music" and everyone else I know calls "classical;" some jazz; some nonsense; some show tunes; some G&S.

And speaking of G&S, I am very fond of the Savoy operas, but myPod is strongly preferential to them. I only have Gondoliers, Sorcerer, The Zoo, and Iolanthe on so far (loaded for different singing projects), but I hear much more Sullivan (especially Sorcerer) in a day than I do, say Warren Zevon or Mary-Chapin Carpenter.

And, as I like to point out, the reason that pop music is such good office music is that it has just the one dynamic (mf)*** whereas jazz is often softer and classical is all over the map. So I am constantly diving for the little volume buttons so that my co-workers aren't unexpectedly dealing with something fff after a mp Josephine Baker piece.

This morning before work I copied music from The Little Rascals played by the Beau Hunks which includes the particularly nice "Jazz Wedding." Tonight Ludwig van joins the gang.

Hmmm. Maybe Carl is open to this being a box set.



*Based on their extremely limited playlist one could not call them Top 40 without feeling dishonest.
** If you can call it ripping up a storm when the computer crashes and needs to be restarted after each CD, but let that pass.
***Uhh -- mezzo forte. Jeez. You people. Honestly.

How to kiss a friend on stage

Henry: (Turning to Alais, opening his arms.) Forget the dragon in the doorway: come. (Holding her.) Believe I love you, for I do. Believe I'm yours forever, for I am. Believe in my contentment and the joy you give me and believe -- (Breaking, turning to Eleanor.) You want more?

The Lion in Winter by James Goldman

Welcome on my team any time

Stage Managers come in as many varieties as any other group of people but we seem to get a lot of certain types:

Calm and organized;
Stressed and organized;
Snippy;
Chatty and disorganized;
Other.

Mike, our Stage Manager for Rehearsal for Murder is from the calm and organized pool. He calls less attention to himself than anyone else I've ever worked with in theater and I've yet to hear him snap at or be rude to anyone.*

On Saturday a bunch of us went to lunch and were joking about whether Director Chip would kill if we just hung out in the pretty weather for the rest of the day rather than return to the theater. I joked that Chip wouldn't kill us; he'd send Mike to kill us.

We thought about that for a second and then I said "And you know, if Chip did, Mike would be calm and he'd be pleasant and we'd be dead."


*Of course, the show doesn't close til early April and it ain't over 'til it's over, but we've already had two long tech working days.

An RC Cola

The only Mardi Gras I ever attended was in Mobile, Alabama, so it was awfully nice to hear this story yesterday on All Things Considered about Mobile's claim to have been celebrating Fat Tuesday before Neworlens was even a Blackened Cajun spot on the map.

I don't remember catching any Moon Pies, but there were definitely beads, and candy, and trinkets, and dime store junk a-plenty flying through the air. My cousin, Robbie, was living with my grandparents in those days and he was taller than we were, so he caught as much as he could for his younger girl cousins from up North.

And here is a little more about the Land of My Father.

For Charles

Devoted readers will remember that one of my functions in life is to lose to Charles at Monopoly. I'm not sure if Scott Meyer's tutorial will improve the experience for me, but it's worth a shot.

Rejoinder

My Boss wanted to give me a to-do list yesterday while I was sitting at the front desk. And, of course, the only thing I could find to write on was a 1 1/2" by 2" Post-It note pad.

He started to tell me what he wanted and then looked down and said, "I want you to know that that is a completely inadequate platoon leader's notebook."

"Oh, I know," I replied, "it's like a fountain pen-and-pocketknife tracheotomy kit."

I think, or maybe just hope, that it's quick similes-in-kind that help keep me employed here.

Sorry, wrong "number"

It was like a misdial for our modern times. I got a request from my e-mail service that someone named D-- wanted to be able to chat with me. I didn't recognize the name but couldn't be sure that I didn't know the person, so I let it hang for a couple of days.

I ran the e-mail address through Google and got a link to a real live person who seemed harmless enough, so I okayed it. I am just well known enough in theater that more people know me than I know, but most of them don't live in Texas, but what the heck. If D-- turned out to be evil, I could just block her.

So all is quiet for a day or two and then I get an IM from D-- asking me to e-mail her: e-mail me at [e-mail address] bye!

I ignored it because I still wasn't sure I even knew D--. And then I'm starting to think that D-- is some kind of spammer or other internet villain. Then this I get this IM. I keep my answers short because I still had no clue is this was someone I knew (and therefore didn't wish to offend) and because I was hoping some kind of penny would drop.

11:40 AM D--: hey
11:41 AM me: Hi.
D--: how r u?
me: Fine - you?
D--: great ...... new grandson born yesterday all are doing good
me: Congratulations!
D--: Carl jr's first child
11:42 AM H-- M-- H--
6 ;b 9 oz 18.5
i didn't get an e-mail from you
me: No, we were closed the last week of the year and I'm still digging out.
11:43 AM D--: i'm at a workshop so i may need to exit at any time ....
k
just didn't know if it had bounced
me: Ahhh.

Then she's gone for a little bit. Okay, it's someone old enough to be a grandparent, (but of course, as I like to point out, if my neice Cheryl had done what her mother did, Sara would have been a grandmother at 32). She sent a picture of the very cute baby, but it's a close up of only the child, who looks like.... well, like prett' near every baby I've ever met. And very cute. So no clues there.

12:09 PM D--: kearly lunch break love you talk to you soon
12:11 PM me: Later!
12:12 PM A*dor*able!
(The baby, of course, not lunch.)

Longer break this time. Without context I probably have no chance whatsoever of figuring who she is. But she seems very nice.

1:41 PM D--: ok we're back ... hope all is well for you ... hope your day is great
1:45 PM me: And to you. :-)
1:47 PM D--: are you at work?
1:48 PM me: Yep.
1:50 PM D--: i didn't know you could be online at work you still work at the hospital?
1:51 PM me: No, I've been working for an engineering firm for nearly ten years. Hospital?
D--: ok this must be a different leta hall than the one in paris tx?
1:52 PM me: Oh my. Ohhh-kay. I feel better now. Yes, I am a different Leta.
1:53 PM I thought I was just totally failing to remember someone.
D--: that is unbelievable! and quite interesting ... not an everyday name!
have a great day and one day we'll talk again!
me: No! I didn't meet another Leta until I was an adult and never another Leta Hall.
When next you talk to her, please send my regards! :-)

D-- found me because "her" Leta and I have (not surprisingly) very similar e-mail addresses. She and I have talked once or twice since then and I think that her friend is on Facebook because the search features shows a Leta Hall in Texas. I may have to friend her...

As it turns out the Texas Leta was, according to D--, also named for her grandmother Oleta and also has the middle initial M. As interesting as I think it would be to meet her, I'm beginning to suspect that we shouldn't, lest that whole matter/anti-matter thing kick in.

And oddly enough, this past summer I got a LinkedIn request from someone who I would have thought would have been the last person ever to join a site whose purpose is to connect people. I was surprised to say the least, but I accepted the request figuring why not? Turns out that it is a completely different person with my friend's name whom I have never met. Perhaps he also thought I live in Texas...

Inauguration Day 2009

Simple Gifts by Elder Joseph Brackett

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free,
'Tis the gift to come down where you ought to be,
And when we find ourselves in the place just right,
'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

(Kathy Sobansky of Clam Chowder wrote second verse of:)

Tis a gift to be simple,'Tis a gift to be free,
For the proud are cast down deeper than the sea,
The first shall be last and the last shall be first,
And the meek at last shall receive the earth.
When true simplicity is gain'd,
To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,
To turn, turn will be our delight,
Till by turning, turning we come round right.

25 Things

Andy posted a meme on Facebook that he got from Michael wherein one lists 25 facts about oneself. It was actually a pretty interesting exercise, although I'm still not sure that there are 25 interesting facts about me. Anyway, here they are:


1. I was born in Monterey, California and my sister was born in Annapolis, Maryland. And that's about as close as we ever got.

2. Everyone I tagged is someone that I have known for more than 20 years. (At least one of whom ignores being tagged.)

3. Prett' near everyone in the US with the last name Reichenbach is related to me.

4. I hate most pictures taken of me, but not as much as I used to.

5. I didn't become a nervous flier until I was 25. I used to love to fly.

6. Even though I hate to fly, if that's how to get somewhere, I get on the plane.

7. A friend once told me that narcissists start most sentences with the word "I." I've been very concious of how often I do that ever since.

8. The name of the person I would call for help in the middle of the night because I know with absolute certainty that he would help me and would yell at me if I didn't call him hasn't changed in 25 years.

9. I don't care what personal questions people ask me so long as I can stipulate that I might not answer or might answer with something that merely sounds plausible rather than actually being true.

10. I very rarely get sick, even when everyone else is getting sick. That's because I drink roughly 50 nice, hot cups of tea every day. Sometimes more.

11. I am constantly amazed by the awesome, generous, kind, and intelligent, people who are willing to be friends with me. I am far luckier than I deserve, always.

12. E-mails and texts are fun. Phone calls are work.

13. I hate heights. A lot.

14. I like all my parents.

15. Crappy with money, am I. (Trying not to start sentence with "I". Sounding like Yoda.)

16. Not really sure that there are 25 *interesting* things about me. We may soon descend into 25 really dull things about me out of my stockpile of millions.

17. I don't have any kind of life plan. I usually just stumble into the next job, home, or hobby, like it a lot and stay.

18. I've work for the same company for nearly ten years. It's still fun.

19. I went from wanting four children to not wanting any. Still think that's the right decision for me.

20. My friends' children are just as awesome as their parents, making me even luckier as I get to know them, too.

21. My grandparents were Lutheran, Catholic, and Baptist. I was raised Episcopalian and didn't know that we had been anything else until late in my teenage years.

22. My great-uncle was a communist and edited the weekend edition of The Daily Worker for eleven years. I never got to meet him and didn't know he existed until I was in college. He wasn't estranged from the family, but he did sever all ties when my Dad was a child to protect the family from negative reactions to his political opinions. They were re-united after my father retired from the military.
Robert Hall bio.

23. Frustrated as I am by clutter, I have a lot of it.

24. I would totally understand if someone unfriended me to get a free Whopper. We do what we have to for free food!

25. Got all the the way through this list without including any factlets about my current major hobby/obsession. :-)

Be it resolved

I don't make many New Year's resolutions, but this year I did come up with two that I think I can live with*:

1. If the temperature is above 40 degrees as I am getting dressed and I don't have to be somewhere immediately after, I will walk to work.

Progress report: So far, so good. Or so far, not so good. The only day the temp was above 40 so far this work year, was the day that I had to return the laptop to the office, so I drove.** All other days were cold or cold & rainy.

I will probably have to walk on Inauguration Day not matter how cold it might be as all the bridges from Virginia to DC will be closed and I live on a major Maryland to downtown DC route, so getting out of the parking lot for my building could possibly take all day.

2. I will cook at least one thing from one of my cookbooks each month. My friend Stephanie, who lives in Michigan, made the same resolution so we going to cook together long distance. Whenever one of us tries a new recipe, we'll e-mail the other and say what cookbook it came from and what we thought of it. David thought it sounded like a cool idea and would also like to play.

What prompted this resolution for me is that when Mom did the apartment to Very Assisted Living downsize, I got many of her cookbooks. So I have lots of cookbooks in kitchen and if they are going to take up that much real estate - they completely fill the roughly two-foot wide, four shelf baker's rack - they should get used.

I'm utterly dying to use a cookbook of my own that I've had for years, The Norman Table, largely because it's pretty and prett' near every recipe calls for Calvados. Just for fun, though, I decided to start with the top shelf and work from left to right. And as I shelf my cookbooks by height, I am basically going from shortest to tallest.

The other "rules" for this game***:

1. The recipe should be one I've never made before. No fair using the recipe for Cinnamon Toast from my Winnie-the-Pooh cookbook. Turn to a different page, girl! Show some initiative!

2. The first time I make the recipe, I will prepare it as written. Henceforth, I can use the text as a series of suggestions. Except for flour substitutions, of course.

3. Mom always put the date under a recipe if she was making it for the first time and it's nice to see that in her old cookbooks. I think I'll give preference to recipies with dates in her handwriting. And I'll add my dates.

First up is the James Beard Cookbook, which has dates in Mom's handwriting and my teenage handwriting.


*If I really need a third, I could add something easy and fun like "spend more time watching tv with a cat on my lap." The cat would definitely vote for that.

**Carrying a laptop that one does not own for a mile is: a) heavy, and b) asking for a trip-and-fall.

***Which only apply to me. I'm not goat-roping Stephanie or David.

Take that, Professor Derrida!

More seriously injured was the chairman of the horticulture department, who remains unconscious and is listed in fair condition. The circumstances of this faculty member's injury are clouded, but he is reputed to be the leader of the group that called the rally, "Stop the Destruction."

In a related story, Governor Orville T. Early this afternoon announced a ban on political organizations at the campuses of the state university system. "The people of this state don't like these deconstructionists," said Governor Early. When informed that no English professors had taken part in the violence, the governor said, "So what? They're all closet deconstructionists out there. We're going to get rid of them one and all."

Moo by Jane Smiley

Very good, madam

I've been reading a bunch of Dorothy Sayers lately and there usually comes the part where Lord Peter wishes to be uninterrupted.  Bunter is instructed that Lord Peter is not at home and his Lordship is left in peace until such time as he resumes accepting calls and visitors.

Living in an era when we are at the beck of so many different forms of call, it pleased me greatly to realize that I have, effectively, an electronic Bunter.  

If I'm not at work, the way to reach me by phone is to call my mobile because the only reason I have a landline is for the DSL for the computer.  The only people who use the landline number are cold callers and I never answer it.  

My mobile has Caller ID.  And when I moved into the building, the nice folks in the rental office arranged for the front door visitor system to ring my mobile.

So if I ever wish "not to be in" for any period of time, I can simply turn off the mobile.  

And if I run across a suitably dignified and reserved* run of dialogue for Bunter expressing that although he may be sitting in just the other room, Lord Peter is not at the present time at home, I may have to change my outgoing message on the mobile.  

*Two words that usually only describe me when the direction in italics is "sarcastically."

Out of the waste stream

David has started saving corks from wine bottles (and other spirits) for recycling. Feel free to give me yours to give to him or just send them on to Yemm & Hart who will make other nice cork things out of them.


Wine Cork Recycling
Yemm & Hart Ltd
425 North Chamber Drive
Fredericktown, MO 63645


This activity has a couple of fun side effects:

Cork recycling gives you a nice cheering sense of helping sustain bird (and other animal) habitat as you are sipping your Chardonnay or Shiraz; and

When your friends and family notice the volume of corks you have collected and ask how long it took to accumulate that many, you can glance at the bowl of, oh, 30 of them and say "Uhhh.... couple of weeks, I guess"* and then enjoy some quality time with your near and dear during the intervention.


*Of course, if the number is more like 50, then you'll want your answer to be "Uhhhh... couple of days, I guess." Try to keep your answer an inverse of the number of corks.

Of spices and slippers

Wherein David and Leta experience the joy of giving in an all-new way...


Part the First:

A few years ago David noticed that I had a pretty ratty pair of slippers. (The slippers had achieved this level of rattitude by being the kind that I particularly like and sometimes have trouble finding - they're basically just fleece ballerinas so that my feet don't get all hot and sweaty.) So, figuring that he had found a problem that he could solve for me, he quizzed me about slipper preferences and for Christmas presented me with a lovely red velour pair from, I believe, Eddie Bauer that came in their own little presentation bag. Oh, how nice!

So I took the nice, new ones home and brought the ratty old ones - which were now my spares - to his house. The following Christmas, I received a very nice pink fleecy pair from Victoria's Secret. Oh, how nice! So the pink ones live at David's and my ratty old ones are in my luggage.

It's a good assumption that everyone who will ever read this has already figured out that David's real goal is not to supply me with new slippers every year, but to drive the ratty old slippers out of my life altogether. I didn't realize this until he noticed the ratty ones in my luggage and looked like a home-owner watching the mouse saunter out of the kitchen carrying the piece of cheese that had been baiting the trap.

He asked me hopefully what I would do if he bought me a nice, new pair of slippers to go into my luggage? Oh, that be nice. And the ratty old ones? Oh, I'd probably put them in my theater box to wear backstage.

Listen carefully and you can probably still heard the grinding sound his teeth made.

Part the second:

I am not the only keeper of the beyond stale-dated. David, himself, has a cabinet filled with herbs and spices that pre-date me and we started seeing each other just after GWB was "elected" the first time. I've been suggesting for a long time now that the fenugreek that he and Susan bought for some long ago curry could be tossed, along with orange peel that smelled like citric acid and dust.

My position on the moral high ground was pretty much ensured after I went to use some nutmeg, which David buys whole (because he uses a nutmeg rasp) and it had nutmeg worms. At that point I began to lobby harder for not keeping the those poor, dried nuts, twigs, leaves, etc through the end of the last mortgage payment. My own rule is not to keep them more than four years. I date them when they come into the house and everything bought before January '05 will be pitched by Inauguration Day. New president, newish spices.

Part the third:

So our anniversary present to each other this year is that David gets to pitch my ratty old slippers and I get to dump his antique foodstuffs. He thought we were each going to throw out our own stuff, but what's the fun of that? So when I read on-line that he had tossed the fenugreek, I called him immediately with a Cease and Desist order. Now I get to empty the mere-memories-of-their-formers-selves contents from the bottles and David got the warm glow of tossing my ratty old slippers.

Of course, I dumped his spices out the front door, so I was recycling whereas he tossed my slippers into the trash (which I couldn't watch), so he was just adding to the waste stream.

Conclusion:

So if traditionally the first anniversary is for giving paper, the second for giving cotton, etc, in the 21st century, the eighth should be for giving your loved one the thing that they have been itching to dispose of and allowing them the joy of ditching it. The Eighth Anniversary could be for de-accessioning.

Like Communism

During Anne of Green Gables Maggie, Susanne, and I would would wait for our Act I, scene 5 entrance off stage left. Maggie, who is 13 would be holding the doll playing her little sister and she would smile into its sweet little plastic face and say kindly (and very quietly) "I hate children."

Later on she quoted her boyfriend:

"Children are like communism. Good idea on paper, but the real thing? Not so much."

Not quite a Turing Test

According to GenderAnalyzer, "We think http://letahall.blogspot.com is written by a man (81%)." Not sure why, since it is pretty largely agreed that I'm a rather girly girl.

They are (it is) more confident about David, having 84% certainty that A Honey of Anklet is written by a man.

To make it more interesting, ofaust.co tells me that I write most like Jules Verne (88%) and control subject David writes a little like Edgar Allen Poe (16%).

The Typeanalyzer's results are just as unlikely, but it has really cool scientific-looking "brain activity" charts. The "brain activity" charts are humorous for at least two reasons: 1) the word "rhythm" is misspelled; and 2) the implication that I have consistent brain activity, which is only true if scanning Facebook for cool new Flair and Stickerz counts as brain activity.

Leta:
ISTP - The Mechanics
The independent and problem-solving type. They are especially attuned to the demands of the moment are masters of responding to challenges that arise spontaneously. They generally prefer to think things out for themselves and often avoid inter-personal conflicts.

The Mechanics enjoy working together with other independent and highly skilled people and often like seek fun and action both in their work and personal life. They enjoy adventure and risk such as in driving race cars or working as policemen and firefighters.

David (okay, this one is a little more plausible):
ENTJ - The Executives
The direct and assertive type. They are especially attuned to the big picture and how to get things done. They are talented strategic planners, but might come off as insensitive to others needs and appear arrogant. They like to be where the action is and like making bold and sweeping changes in complex situations.

The Executives are happy when their work let them learn and improve themselves and how things work around them. Not beeing very shy about expressing their ideas and often very outgoing they often make excellent public speakers.



Still, somehow, after all this research I feel more self-aware. Thanks, Internet!


via Hjalti, who is a man, no matter what the internet says.

My type?

Nearly twenty years ago, long before I had internet access or structured my day around checking my e-mail and reading Facebook status updates (and ... working) I heard about a young lady named Allison Atlas who lived in Bethesda and needed a bone marrow transplant.

I mention the lack of e-mail and internet because that means that I probably learned about Allison by seeing a flier somewhere, like at the grocery store or wherever else they had been blanketed by friends and family. It's much easier today to e-mail your entire address book, write a blog post, and create a Facebook event, so I have always appreciated the dedication shown by the Friends of Allison or anyone putting so much time and effort into saving someone they care about.

So anyway, I heard about the bone marrow registration drive, which was going to be held at the Jewish Community Center because Allison was of Ashkenazi Jewish descent. I'm not*, but I figured that even though that reduced the chances that I would be a match for Allison from tiny to minuscule, I went anyway and stood in line for over two hours with other people who were actively hoping to be inconvenienced and put through a rather uncomfortable medical procedure in hopes of giving someone else another chance at life.

I wasn't a match for Allison and, so far, I haven't been a match for anyone, but I keep hoping. I check that my registration is current every year on my birthday and I encourage people to join the registry.

Today Quinn posted that the nephew of a dear friend of hers is now depending on that same registry. So if you were thinking about joining the registry or wondering what to do what some extra dollars in your charity fund....


*I'm Engish - Irish - German Episcopalian.

Paraphrasing

I've heard similar readings at off-book rehearsals. And, sigh, in a couple of performances.

"Nobody knew but me. Concealment's been preyin' like a tiddleyum upon my damask cheek - Shakespeare! And I've been sitting' like Patience on a thing-ummy-jib smiling' at grief - more Shakespeare - same speech - ibid, as they say in the books."*

Archie Millar in Gray Mask by Patricia Wentworth



*Twelth Night, Act 2, scene iv:

Viola: She never told her love,
But let concealment like a worm i' th' bud
Feed on her damask cheek; she pin'd in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

We're agin it

Most of my conversations with my mother these days are practical: things she needs;* things she doesn't like about Very Assisted Living; when am I going to come visit/help her? But yesterday she called me around 9:00-ish in the morning to ask my if I had ever had scrapple. It seems that there was a piece of scrapple on her breakfast tray and she wanted to determine the family policy on foods made out of offal.

We don't eat them, I told her.

She said that she didn't think that we did, because (I paraphrase here) she tried it and said that while it started out tasting a bit like sausage, by the time she was ready to swallow, it's true nature became all too apparent.

Mom put a decent amount of effort and creativity into describing her reaction to finding this on her plate. She wanted to know if she had to finish it. Absolutely not. I agree with the people who define it as stuff "too disgusting to be used or sold elsewhere."

I then told her about a party some years ago where my housemate Jenny took an informal "scrapple: yes or no?" poll.** Maybe it's because I do live in the Mid-Atlantic region, but there were a surprising numbers of yeses - about half the respondents, with no attendees abstaining. It seems that everyone - if they have heard of it - has an opinion on scrapple and it's pretty much a zero-sum: either "yeah, sure, it's good" or "ewww, yuck, no, I don't eat floor sweepings."

All in all, it was a fun conversation, one of the sort that I miss having with my mother these days.


*And if she says "desperately needs" one more time about something that is neither bleeding nor burning, well, things are going to get a little fraught.

**No, I have no idea why this particular entertainment happened at that party. Mostly our parties were pretty normal.***

***Okay, that last bit probably isn't true. Our parties were probably pretty weird, but we enjoyed them.

Same here

In fact, I'm not sure that anyone who was ever a teen-ager hasn't felt like this.

I didn't related well to people my age. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me, never on exactly the same page. Sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there was a glitch in my brain.

From Twilight by Stephenie Meyer

For Maura & Gwydion

CHORUS OF GIRLS.
With heart and with voice
Let us welcome this mating:
To the youth of her choice,
With a heart palpitating,
Comes the lovely Aline!

May their love never cloy!
May their bliss be unbounded!
With a halo of joy
May their lives be surrounded!
Heaven bless our Aline!

RECITATIVE ~ ALINE.
My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting
And as you wish me every earthly joy,
I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!

ARIA ~ ALINE.
Oh, happy young heart!
Comes thy young lord a-wooing
With joy in his eyes,
And pride in his breast -
Make much of thy prize,
For he is the best
That ever came a-suing.
Yet - yet we must part,
Young heart!
Yet - yet we must part!

Oh, merry young heart,
Bright are the days of thy wooing!
But happier far
The days untried -
No sorrow can mar,
When Love has tied
The knot there's no undoing.
Then, never to part,
Young heart!
Then, never to part!

From my Scottish tenantry

Dear Friend of Laphroaig -

Our country's great national holiday is upon us. It's St. Andrew's Day, celebrating the patron saint of Scotland.

Though St. Andrew never made it to Scotland while he was alive, he holds a special place in the hearts and minds of the Scottish people. Legend states his relics were secretly transported to Scotland during the Middle Ages. And during the late 8th century, King Ungus reportedly saw a cloud in the shape of a Saltire (the St. Andrew's Cross on the Scottish flag) before battle. He pledged that if victory came to his forces, St. Andrew would become the patron saint of Scotland.

Now, festivities, feasts and events mark the November 30 celebration of St. Andrew's Day in Scotland and around the globe. As a Friend of Laphroaig, consider this e-mail an invitation to our party in Islay. If you can't make it here, gather your friends together at a bar or your home, open a bottle of Laphroaig and toast the patron saint of Scotland, St. Andrew.


Old Scottish Blessing - If There is Righteousness in the Heart:

If there is righteousness in the heart,
there will be beauty in the character.
If there is beauty in the character,
there will be harmony in the home.
If there is harmony in the home,
there will be order in the nation.
If there is order in the nation,
there will be peace in the world.
So let it be.


Slàinthe,
Simon Brooking
Master Ambassador, Laphroaig

Why I'm not in management

Unless these are secretly tactics that the Wharton School endorses...

1. A discussion with my Boss about some people who by not having done something are holding up other portions of the project:

Me: We need to bring back some kind of vicious, painful, and humiliating form of revenge. But only against other people. Not me. I cry.

My Boss now tells me that added to his goals for the week is to make me cry.

2. In an e-mail when the WATCH tabulator asked me how I manage to get such good compliance on ballots:

Me: It's a combination of flirting, cajoling, nagging, and begging. The same way I get cast in shows, actually.

With an "e"

The child hesitated for a moment.

"Will you please call me Cordelia?" she said eagerly.

"Call you Cordelia! Is that your name?"

"No-o-o-o, it's not exactly my name, but I would love to be called Cordelia. It's such a perfectly elegant name."

I don't know what on earth you mean. If Cordelia isn't you name, what is?"

"Anne Shirley," reluctantly faltered forth the owner of that name, "but oh, please do call me Cordelia. It can't matter much to you what you call me if I'm only going to be here a little while, can it? And Anne is such an unromatic name."

"Unromantic fiddlesticks!" said the unsympathetic Marilla. "Anne is a good plain sensible name. You've no need to be ashamed of it."

"Oh, I'm not ashamed of it," explained Anne, "only I like Cordelia better. I've always imagined that my name was Cordelia -- at least, I always have of late years. When I was young I used to imagine it was Geraldine, but I like Cordelia better now. But if you call me Anne, please call me Anne splled with an e."

"What difference does it make how it's spelled?" asked Marilla with another rusty smile as she picked up the teapot.

"Oh, it makes such a difference. It looks so much nicer. When you hear a name pronounced can't you always see it in your mind, just as if it was printed out? I can; and A-n-n looks dreadful, but A-n-n-e looks somuch more distinguished. If you'll only call me Anne spelled with an e I shall try to reconcile myself to not being called Cordelia."

From - but of course - Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery

Miss Lydia Thompson's Farewell

From page 6 of The Pall Mall Gazette, for May 3, 1899, of a “farewell address” in verse that Gilbert wrote for the actress Lydia Thompson. Sent to Savoynet by Arthur, the Reference Librarian. Good folks to know, librarians...


MISS LYDIA THOMPSON’S FAREWELL.

The following address, written by Mr. W.S. Gilbert, was spoken by Miss Lydia Thompson at the conclusion of the proceedings yesterday: --

The other day, when sitting all alone,
Thinking of pleasant times long past and gone,
“Why, bless my precious heart and soul,” said I,
“I’ve left the stage, and haven’t said “Good bye!””
That sounds ungrateful—-but, to be quite plain,
I hoped I might be coming back again,
And would not speak the word one can’t recall,
Till “Good-bye” meant “Good-bye” for good and all.

“Good-bye”—-an easy word for you to say—-
“Sorry you’re going, but you’ve had your day.
Next please!”—-And the obedient profession
Supplies new-comers in prolonged succession—
A thousand fair ones for your smiles contesting
(A hundred acting and nine hundred “resting”);
But when I say “Good-bye” in faltering tone
To you--the truest friends I’ve ever known--
The friends whose warmth expressed in gladdening chime
Supplied the sunshine of my summer-time--
The case is somewhat different. You see,
I’m losing you—-you’re only losing me!

But this won’t do at all—-I’m off the scent,
My line’s light comedy, not sentiment.
My future tense seems cheeriness to lack,
And so, I won’t look forward—-I’ll look back.

What changes have I seem since that dim age,
When little Goldenhair tripped on the stage!
The Drama, struggling then in lodgings shady,
Has made her fortune and is quite the lady,
With endless hosts of highly cultured friends.
Think how she dresses now, and what she spends
On vast dramatic shrines—-in sumptuous salaries—-
In real Venetian-leathered pits and galleries—-
In plays that run a year to houses packed,
And cost, to stage, a thousand pounds an act!

Stage-management—-that has advanced a bit
Since poor Tom Robertson invented it—-
Tom Robertson, whose histrionic chickens
We sneer at now—-but then we sneer at Dickens!

Knighthoods for actors of pronounced ability
Earls, countesses, engaged to play “utility”;
Ibsen—-a zest for jaded appetite;
No fees-—half-guinea stalls—-electric light
Matinées twice a week, and, sad to say,
Matinée hats—-I see one here to-day;
Stock-companies completely out of date,
Burlesque quite dead—-(it never risked that fate
When Talfourd, Planché, Brough, and Byron made it,
And Rogers, Clarke, and Marie Wilton played it—-
Then, strangest chance, of playhouses vast crops!
Playhouses plentiful as grocers’ shops!

Ten in twelve months! Well, I don’t want to prate,
But if new theatres crop up at that rate,
Where will you find your pieces, if you please,
And where your actors and your actresses!
Ten months will build a playhouse, per contractor—-
It takes at least ten years to build an actor,
And, as our best authorities insist,
Ten times ten years to build a dramatist!

Well, if too long I’ve babbled of my youth,
I’m rather loath to go, and that’s the truth.
Still we must part-—it’s idle to delay it:
I’ve come to say “Good-bye!”—-so let me say it.
The link that binds me to you must be broken—-
Come now, come then, the last word must be spoken!
In no light mood the farewell phrases fall—-
God bless you! God bless me! God bless us all!

Cupcakes!

So there's this place not far from David's called Dinner Zen, which is one of those "we'll create a menu and do all the prep, you assemble it and cook it at home" franchises which managed to come up with a promotional gimmick that I swear was created with me in mind.

They now sell cupcakes (or did yesterday anyway) including a very yummy gluten-free chocolate one with chocolate frosting that tastes nearly exactly like the kind of Betty Crocker-style cupcakes that I love and they were willing to throw a little money to the Reston Community Players or the Elden Street Players or one of the local schools with theater programs.

Eat cupcake, give money to local community theater group. Win/win, right?

This is what my British friends would call an "information capture scheme" in that in order to throw a few pence to the local community theater, I had to give Dinner Zen my e-mail address. But if this results in my being able to get really good, rather than fine, chocolate GF cupcakes, I'd let them call me every half hour, so I happily gave them the info they wanted.

I bought two yummy cupcakes (one for me and one for Michael, who has baked loverly cookies for prett' near every DC-area community theater production over the last few years and deserves a treat. Then I nosed around the store for a bit, especially noticing the To-Go freezer near the door and thinking that could come in handy some night. I also was very busy hoping that the cupcakes were here to stay, not some fly-by-night, make me want them then take them away thing. Because that? Would be cruel.

I also moused around a bit on their website and was both encouraged and puzzled by the following from their FAQ:

We have food allergies in our family, can I still come in?

One of the great things about Dinner Zen is that you can customize meals the way you like them. Most people with allergies will have no problem in our store. Please tell us about your allergy concerns and we will help guide you to the best menu choices for your family. If somebody you will be serving food to is allergic to an ingredient, please choose another dish from the menu since we cannot be held responsible for allergic reactions.

I think this translates to "yes, but don't try to eat anything."

But did I mention that the cupcakes are very yummy?

Meteorology

The D.C. area weather usually turns from summer to autumn between my mother's birthday (October 14) and my father's (October 22) and then it gets warm again for a bit and then autumn comes marching in all cold and blowy.

Today autumn came marching in. The weather ranged from the 40s to the 70s with lots and lots of wind and some random rain.

I describe as the kind of weather where no matter what you are wearing, at some point in the day you will regret it and then be glad again for it before the day is done.

Happy Birthday from the Squishy Liberal

My fondness for the writings of P.J. O'Rourke is one of the many things about me that David finds inexplicable. And today is the Cranky Libertarian's 61st birthday, which I am celebrating by posting a few random P.J. quotes. I should probably also celebrate it by sending money to the sorts of liberal causes that he ridicules and I like, but maybe later.

(And in the interests of balance and fairness and creating a place where all voices can be heard, etc, on December 27th we'll get some quotes from my favorite History Nerd, Sarah Vowell.*)

Giving money and power to government is like giving whiskey and car keys to teenage boys.


I am a little to the right of ... Why is the Attila comparison used? Fifth-century Hunnish depredations on the Roman Empire were the work of an overpowerful executive pursuing a policy of economic redistribution in an atmosphere of permissive social mores. I am a little to the right of Rush Limbaugh. I'm so conservative that I approve of San Francisco City Hall marriages, adoption by same-sex couples, and New Hampshire's recently ordained Episcopal bishop. Gays want to get married, have children, and go to church. Next they'll be advocating school vouchers, boycotting HBO, and voting Republican.


The real truth about children is they don't speak the language very well. They're physically uncoordinated. And they are ignorant of our elaborate ideas about right and wrong.

*I do not claim P.J. as my favorite Libertarian. That will always be, of course, Hjalti.

It's my fault and I'm sorry

I like Pushing Daisies and was foolish enough to say so out loud where the television gods could hear me.

And then, as if that weren't risky enough, I joined the Facebook group "Save Pushing Daisies 2008-2009." Sure there are at least 4,900 other peope in the group, but that wasn't enough to hide me and my horrible tv karma.

So now it looks like it's going to go away.

Stupid ABC.

This is a number to call at ABC (818-460-7477 -- not toll free, of course) that other people could use to lobby for the show. I'm afraid that if I call, it would be pretty much the same as attaching my Elizabeth R to the death warrant.

I'm sorry. Feel free to blame me.


Everything we do is a choice.
Oatmeal or cereal, highway or side streets, kiss her or keep her.
We make choices and we live with the consequences.
If someone gets hurt along the way, we ask for forgiveness.
It’s the best anyone can do.
-Ned ep.3

That’s the most tragic story I’ve ever heard. Not withstanding the big ticket items like genocide and famine, but tragic nonetheless.
-Olive ep.6

So, everyone wants stuff. We wake up everyday with a list of wishes a mile long and maybe we spend our lives trying to make those wishes come true, but…just because we want them, doesn’t mean we need them to be happy.
-Ned ep.6

The Facebook Effect

There are probably lots of Facebook effects, but the one that I have noticed recently is that I am finding out the results of casting for shows from people's status updates and Wall-to-Wall conversations.

Sometimes this happens before all of the phone calls have gone out.

I don't yet know how community theater will change to adapt to this, but it will be interesting to watch it happen.

Kinda accurate, actually

I got this one from my friend, Laura Out West. And while it's not a perfect description, it's at least as accurate as any other horoscope-type personality profile I've encountered. I am a Dove. A scary large number of my family and friends are Monkeys. Quite a money minded bunch of people I know!!


LOOK UP YOUR BIRTHDAY AND SEE WHAT YOU ARE.. FORWARD ON TO PEOPLE THAT
YOU THINK WOULD GET A KICK OUT OF THIS...INCLUDING THE PERSON WHO SENT IT
TO YOU. PUT YOUR BIRTHDAY ANIMAL IN THE SUBJECT LINE AND PASS IT ON.

January 01 - 09 ~ Dog
January 10 - 24 ~ Mouse
January 25 - 31 ~ Lion
February 01 - 05 ~ Cat
February 06 - 14 ~ Dove
February 15 - 21 ~ Turtle
February 22 - 28 ~ Panther
March 01 - 12 ~ Monkey
March 13 - 15 ~ Lion
March 16 - 23 ~ Mouse
March 24 - 31 ~ Cat
April 01 - 03 ~ Dog
April 04 - 14 ~ Panther
April 15 - 26 ~ Mouse
April 27 - 30 ~ Turtle
May 01 - 13 ~ Monkey
May 14 - 21 ~ Dove
May 22 - 31 ~ Lion
June 01 - 03 ~ Mouse
June 04 - 14 ~ Turtle
June 15 - 20 ~ Dog
June 21 - 24 ~ Monkey
June 25 - 30 ~ Cat
July 01 - 09 ~ Mouse
July 10 - 15 ~ Dog
July 16 - 26 ~ Dove
July 27 - 31 ~ Cat
August 01 - 15 ~ Monkey
August 16 - 25 ~ Mouse
August 26 - 31 ~ Turtle
September 01 - 14 ~ Dove
September 15 - 27 ~ Cat
September 28 - 30 ~ Dog
October 01 - 15 ~ Monkey
October 16 - 27 ~ Turtle
October 28 - 31 ~ Panther
November 01 - 16 ~ Lion
November 17 - 30 ~ Cat
December 01 - 16 ~ Dog
December 17 - 25 ~ Monkey
December 26 - 31 ~ Dove

If you are a Dove: You symbolize a very happy-go-lucky approach in life.
Whatever the surroundings may be, grim or cheerful, you remain
unaffected.In fact, you spread cheer wherever you go. You are the leader of
your group of friends and good at consoling people in their times of need.
You dislike hypocrisy and tend to shirk away from hypocrites. They can
never be in your good books, no matter what. You are very methodical and
organized in your work. No amount of mess, hence, can ever encompass you.
Beware, it is easy for you to fall in love....


If you are a Dog : A very loyal and sweet person. Your loyalty can never be
doubted. You are quite honest and sincere when it comes to your attitude
towards working. You are a very simple person, indeed. Absolutely hassle
free, humble and down-to-earth!! That explains the reason why your friends
cling on to you! You have a good taste for clothes. If your wardrobe is not
updated with what is trendy, you sure are depressed. Popular and
easy-going. You have a little group of dignified friends, all of them being
quality-personified.

If you are a Mouse : Always up to some sort of a mischief! The mischievous
gleam in your eyes is what makes you so cute and attractive to everyone.
You are an extremely fun-to-be-with kind of person. No wonder people seek
for your company and look forward to include you for all get-together's.
However, you are sensitive which is a drawback. People need to select their
words while talking to you. If someone tries to fiddle around and play with
words while dealing with you, it is enough to invite your wrath. God bless
the person then!

If you are a Lion: Quite contradictory to your name, you are a peace loving
person. You best try to avoid a situation wherein you are required to
fight. An outdoor person, you dislike sitting at one place for a long
duration. You are a born leader, and have it in you how to tactfully derive
work from people. You love being loved, and when you receive your share of
limelight from someone, you are all theirs!!!! Well, well... hence some
people could even take an advantage, flatter you to the maximum and get
their work done. So be careful.....

If you are a Cat : An extremely lovable, adorable person, sometimes shy,
with a passion for quick wit. At times, you prefer quietness. You love
exploring various things and going into depth of each thing. Under normal
circumstances you're cool but when given a reason to, you are like a
volcano waiting to erupt. You're a fashion bird. People look forward to you
as an icon associated with fashion. Basically, you mingle along freely but
don't like talking much to strangers. People feel very easy in your
company. You observe care in choosing your friends.

If you are a Turtle : You are near to perfect and nice at heart.The
examples of your kindness are always circulated in groups of people. You,
too, love peace. You wouldn't like to retaliate even to a person who is in
the wrong. You are loved due to this. You do not wish to talk behind one's
back. People love the way you always treat them. You can give, give and
give love, and the best part is that you do not expect it back in return.
You are generous enough. Seeing things in a practical light is what remains
the best trait of you guys.

If you are a Panther : You are mysterious. You are someone who can handle
pressure with ease, and can handle any atmosphere without going berserk.
You can be mean at times, and love to gossip with your selected group. Very
prim and proper. You like all situations and things to be in the way you
desire, which, sometimes is not possible. As a result, you may lose out in
some relationships. But otherwise, you love to help people out from
difficult and tight spots when they really need you.

If you are a Monkey : Very impatient and hyper!!! You want things to be
done as quick as possible. At heart, you are quite simple and love if you
are the center of attraction. That way, you people are unique. You would
like to keep yourself safe from all the angles. Shall your name be dragged
or featured in any sort of a controversy, you then go all panicky.
Therefore, you take your precautions from the very beginning. When you
foresee anything wrong, your sixth sense is what saves you from falling in
traps. Quite a money minded bunch you people are!!

Home again, home again

I am back from a flying visit to Torquay which is in Devon. Which is next to Cornwall. Which are in England.

Which is in Great Britain.

Which is part of the United Kingdom.

Anyway, I was there to sing a lot of G&S and make some new friends. As far as I can tell, I did both. (Possibly other attendees will tell you when I am out of earshot that I actually did neither, but that seems unlikely.)

It was a lovely trip and it's great to be back, although it may take me a few days to get back to saying tuh-may-doe instead of tuh-mah-toe and to return the r's to their accustomed places in my speech.

Sarcasm - also free

Let me start this out by saying that British Airways is a great way for Celiacs to travel. On their "manage my reservation" page, one can opt for "medical meals" which include gluten-free ones. If the request is made within 24-hours of flight time there is no guarantee that it will be honored, but they do what they can. My request was made at prett' near the 24-hour mark, but my meal made it on board, for which I am grateful.

Everyone got that? Okay, back to being snarky.

It was meal time and the dinner carts were coming up the aisle. The stewardess asked me if I would like beef or chicken and I told her that, uhm, I was supposed to have a gluten-free meal. I suspect that I was her first ever Celiac passenger because she smiled sweetly at me in a "don't mess with me, this is a long flight" kind of way and said, even more sweetly, that the chicken was free. And would I like some free wine as well?

And, you know, this just didn't seem like the right time to start educating the cabin staff about my RBAD*, so I just accepted the tray that she was trying to hand me.

Then I started trying to hand her back all the things on the tray that I couldn't eat, starting with the roll.

This seemed to cause a penny to drop somewhere, possibly as the cabin staff connected the nuisance in seat 46J with the medical meal in 46J. Oh yeah. So the correct tray was brought to the stewardess who, rather chastened, handed it to me with an apologetic smile. I, of course, was graciousness itself in accepting both my correct meal and the unspoken repentance.

And - for the curious - I had:

Chicken in tomato sauce;
Salad with a lemony olive oil dressing;
A gluten-free dinner roll;
A small bowl of fruit - pineapple, I think? (It's been several days since then.)
A little bag of dried fruit;
Vanilla pudding;
A gluten-free brownie; and
A full split of wine.

Well done, Brit Air!!



*Rather Boring Autoimmune Disorder

It does say it all

Gwyn found this and sent it to me and a few other folks. And while I agree with most of it, the last paragraph really spoke to me. Now matter which side of the aisle the people you voted for sit on, we're all in this together.

It's not over. One election doesn't solve anything--no matter who you elect, that candidate still has to live up to his promise. No matter what change you want, you have to get out there and make it yourself. But for the first time in a very long time, it felt like the country had opened its eyes again and remembered its name.

The Morning After on Cleolinda's LJ.

Dear Building Management

Dear Building Management ~

Thank you for the new "Water Management" showerhead which I found installed when I got home today. It's very pretty with all that shiny chrome.

It's also a "low-flow" showerhead, of course. "20 GMP Max" according to the showerhead. So I am writing this note to clear up your possible puzzlement about the upcoming increase in my water usage. I have pretty thick hair and a low-flow showerhead really doesn't get shampoo out of it in any kind of timely fashion and I find that my only solution is to just stay under the damn thing for however long it takes, so my showers will be getting longer.

Signed,

Leta the Tenant


Dear Rest of the World ~

If you have any ideas how I can crack this puppy open and remove whatever blocks the flow of water or reduces the water pressure or whatever, I'd be interested to hear it.

Leta teh pruney

Election Day

A good friend, whose opinions I otherwise respect, doesn't vote saying that if G-d has intended for us to vote, he'd give us real candidates...

Well,...If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.

Free Will by Rush

There are those who think that life is nothing left to chance
A host of holy horrors to direct our aimless dance.

A planet of playthings,
We dance on the strings
Of powers we cannot perceive.
"The stars aren't aligned
Or the gods are malign"
Blame is better to give than receive.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will.

There are those who think that they were dealt a losing hand,
The cards were stacked against them
They weren't born in lotus land.

All preordained
A prisoner in chains
A victim of venomous fate.

Kicked in the face,
You can pray for a place
In heaven's unearthly estate.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will.

Each of us
A cell of awareness
Imperfect and incomplete.
Genetic blends
With uncertain ends
On a fortune hunt that's far too fleet.

You can choose a ready guide in some celestial voice.
If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.
You can choose from phantom fears and kindness that can kill
I will choose a path that's clear
I will choose free will.

Reminder

(Martha Raye & William Katt in "Pippin.")


"No Time at All"

When you are as old as I, my dear
And I hope that you never are
You will woefully wonder why, my dear
Through your cataracts and catarrh
You could squander away or sequester
A drop of a precious year
For when your best days are yester
The rest'er twice as dear....

What good is a field on a fine summer night
When you sit all alone with the weeds?
Or a succulent pear if with each juicy bite
You spit out your teeth with the seeds?
Before it's too late stop trying to wait
For fortune and fame you're secure of
For there's one thing to be sure of, mate:
There's nothing to be sure of!

Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

I've never wondered if I was afraid
When there was a challenge to take
I never thought about how much I weighed
When there was still one piece of cake
Maybe it's meant the hours I've spent
Feeling broken and bent and unwell
But there's still no cure more heaven-sent
As the chance to raise some hell

Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

Now when the drearies do attack
And a siege of the sads begins
I just throw these noble shoulders back
And lift these noble chins
Give me a man who is handsome and strong
Someone who's stalwart and steady
Give me a night that's romantic and long
And give me a month to get ready
Now I could waylay some aging roue
And persuade him to play in some cranny
But it's hard to believe I'm being led astray
By a man who calls me granny

Oh, it's time to start livin'
Time to take a little from this world we're given
Time to take time, cause spring will turn to fall
In just no time at all....

Sages tweet that age is sweet
Good deeds and good work earns you laurels
But what could make you feel more obsolete
Than being noted for your morals?

Here is a secret I never have told
Maybe you'll understand why
I believe if I refuse to grow old
I can stay young till I die
Now, I've known the fears of sixty-six years
I've had troubles and tears by the score
But the only thing I'd trade them for
Is sixty-seven more....

Oh, it's time to keep livin'
Time to keep takin' from this world we're given
You are my time, so I'll throw off my shawl
And watching your flings be flung all over
Makes me feel young all over

Asking permission

Sally, Paul, David, and I went to Christine Lavin's concert at the Barns of Wolf Trap last night and during intermission I got to distribute Christine's homemade Barackolate Chip Cookies.* She gave away copies of the recipe as well and I've written her an e-mail asking for her permission to post it here because it sounds yummy and is fun to read.

Fingers are crossed that permission is granted because, well, read this excerpt and you'll see what I mean:

"Mix all the chips together in a separate bowl, stir them around -- look, all different color chips! And they're all gettting along peacefully, like our Founding Fathers hoped we would."**

Clearly this is the cookie recipe American needs this week.


*Guess how she'll be voting on Tuesday...

**Formatting Chistine's.

Words of Power

Ever wonder how I end up going from show to show to show? I finally figured it out. Using the phrase "I'm not doing anything right now, so my time is wide open" brings any "theater break" to an end within 48 hours. I might as well be lighting black candles and sprinkling chicken's blood around me in a circle.