Something New

While I have had things to do (build sets at Albuquerque Little Theatre, for example) I have never had a job and a blog (or three) at the same time. One would think that a twenty or so hour a week job would have little impact on my life, but one would be wrong. The morning is all about getting Carmen and me out the door on time. The evening is supper and recouperating. The blogs were all about a lot of time on my hands. It's just not there any more.

This week I work Monday through Thursday, five hours a day. Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday I'm off! I'm thinking my big Year In Review posting is coming this weekend! Woo hoo!

In the meantime, I still have three wasted mornings and evenings to use for thinking about what I want to say about 2010. Should be a good one. Can't wait!

For those of you who come aboard hoping for cat news, all I can tell you is that ReLu and LuLu are even closer buddies than before. Remus has developed a special little "Come play with me" call, and they have a wonderful time chasing each other all over the house. When it's time to rest, they often curl up together on the back of the sofa or on the bed, frequently complete with licking each other to sleep. Getting Lucia for a companion for Remus has turned out to be the best idea we've had in a long time.

Back in a couple of days - I promise.

Blow Out

You'll remember, I'm sure, the previous post in which I described my angst about my payroll deposit. I went to work anyway, and had a fine day delivering two gallons of paint and putting away the last of Wednesday's truck. After work I walked home and got the mail on the way in. There was an envelope from Sherwin Williams Corporate Payroll containing a paper check for the amount I was expecting. Yay.

Saturday I packed the ox head and the donkey parts into the car, with some tools and touch-up paint. Carmen set the stage while I assembled and touched up the donkey. Afterward we had a late lunch/early supper at our fave Meadville restaurant, Montana Rib And Chop House. I had the grilled tuna. Yum yum. We stopped at KMart and Big Lots on the way home, giving us a reminder of why we try to stay away from shopping opportunities during December.

Back home we watched a Christmas movie, then I retreated to my office for some "Family Feud" fun, when suddenly I had to run to the bathroom, barely making it in time. I was feeling nauseated until suddenly I had to throw up. Remember Vinny going home with the stomach flu? I think he passed it on to me first. The scenario played itself out many more times during the night.

I stayed in bed most of yesterday, giving my boy Remus an unusual opportunity to stick his claws in my face for an afternoon feeding time. Yay.

I tried to remain standing for a while this morning, washing dishes and such, but it soon became apparent that, while the worst is over, I'm not out of the woods yet. The good news: I called in and Vinny answered the phone. He understood completely.

A Disappointing Post

I woke up at 6:08 this morning and bounded (as much as these artritic old bones can bound) out of bed. I turned on my computer before warming up yesterday's leftover coffee. With eager anticipation I went to my online banking site. Last night at midnight was my first scheduled direct deposit since June of 2009. I zoomed through the gauntlet of passwords and identity checks and landed at last at my checking account. And there was my available balance - the same as it was twelve hours before. I clicked on the details link, and sure enough, there was a posting from Sherwin Williams Payroll - for a whopping $0.00!

It was my understanding that, yes, my wage was going to be much lower than it was working in show biz in Orlando and Boston, but still higher than volunteering at the theatre. I could have stayed home and racked up $0.00 - I've done it - recently!

My boss, Diane, told me she has never had a problem with payroll in her twenty eight years with the company (at that same store!) As usual, I am the exception. Today is her day off, but Vinnie went home yesterday with the flu, so she'll probably be there. I hope this is a mistake that can be ironed out easily. I'm still training, sure, but I know I'm worth more than $0.00.

The Week In Review

My last posting, a week ago (!) was, it turned out, the calm before the literal storm. Sure, it had been snowing nonstop since Wednesday, but as of bedtime Saturday night, the roads, driveway and sidewalks were clear. At cat feeding time, 4:30am I looked out and there were six inches of accumulation on the aforementioned surfaces. The new Sno-Thro came out for its debut performance at 8:00 Sunday morning. I did the driveway and sidewalk from the far side of Donnie's yard to the far side of Cheryl's yard in about seven minutes, in plenty of time to get to church by 9:00.

After church and the congregation's annual meeting, we returned home to find a high ridge of snow across the driveway entrance, plus about four inches of new snow. I "snew blew" again. Carmen backed into the garage, and the front wheel drive had trouble pushing the RAV4 over the packed snow left by the thrower. I also had to push. So I got out the snow shovel and scraped the driveway and sidewalk down to bare concrete. The whole neighborhood was out shoveling and operating snow removal machines. We bonded.


By Sunday evening I had drawn the outline of the donkey flats for the Christmas pageant and had it approved by the director/ producer/ minister. Snow was still pouring out of the sky when we went to bed.


Monday morning I snew blew and scraped again before Carmen set out for work, salting more for traction than for any hope of keeping them clear. I looked at the walkway from the front sidewalk up the steps and around the grassy knoll to the front porch. There were deep depressions in it from the newspaper delivery to inside the front storm door that morning. I felt bad for him and the postal person, but the path could not be cleared of its foot of snow by a Sno-Thro, and would take a long time with twentieth century wide-thing-on-a-stick technology - more time than I had. I got Carmen off to work, showered, changed and got myself off to work.

You'll remember I had some trepidation about working with Vinnie. Well, we had a fine day together. He imparted a lot of his hard-won wisdom about the job, and was very patient with my nearly complete lack of knowledge.

By the end of my workday Monday, the parking lot in front of the store was in need of a touch-up, so I snow shoveled the critical areas (as outlined by my buddy Vinnie) before I went home to start again on the critical areas at the house. I saw no evidence that anyone had muscled through the foot and a half of snow to the porch. No mail today. I guessed I'd better get it cleared. And yes, it did take a long time. Once again, I salted all areas for traction. Carmen had no trouble backing in.


Tuesday morning was the same routine. I blew and scraped for almost an hour, showered and changed for work, and shoveled the parking lot at the store. Snow was still pouring. Back home, same thing. Seven solid days of snow dumping on us, and still going.

Wednesday morning I got started earlier than usual. The plumber was coming at 8:00 to (FINALLY !) hook up the sink and toilet upstairs. When I looked outside I went into shock! There was nothing falling from the sky. So I scraped and salted the concrete surfaces as usual, then dug a trench across the back yard to Cheryl's back door. I hadn't been in to check on things in well over a week. All was well. I figured, while I was there, I'd read her gas meter, since she had asked me for a reading every month since September. So I came back, got out of my snowy boots and such, and wrote Cheryl an email describing my care of her sidewalk and my report on the gas reading etc. While I was attaching pictures to the email, I saw my inbox gain a "1" indicating that a new message had come in. So I sent the one to Cheryl, and the inbox appeared complete with a message from Cheryl asking me to "tunnel over to the house and get a gas meter reading." I thought it was funny, anyway. Oh, and by then it had started snowing AGAIN!

Wednesday at work was all about deliveries. The truck came in as I approached - Wednesday is its usual day - and there are usually items on the truck that customers have been waiting for, so Wednesday afternoon is pretty much a deliveries kind of day. I'm pretty much the delivery boy. So, Vinnie and I got things sorted out for four deliveries, loaded the van and were ready to go by 2:00. We set out into the pouring snow, and immediately blew off the delivery deep into Amish country many miles away. We got stuck in the first place we went, sacrificing a sand bag to the traction gods. The second place I never would have found on my own - a huge industrial complex out in the hinterlands. Vinnie had to call the guy to find out where we needed to go. The third place was the Red Lobster restaurant near the Walmart, where a contractor was working. There were some things Diane needed from Staples right nearby, and the last stop was at the Valu Home Center for more sandbags. Winter, after all, has only just begun.

Wednesday evening was snow blowing and shoveling again. That night, the snow stopped, and to date, I have not shoveled anything since Thursday morning - that's forty eight whole hours now!

Thursday we both had days off. I loaded and ran the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen. Carmen started work on her Sunday sermon. Our little girl Lucia had a vet appointment at 1:30, so we dashed out to do some shopping in the late morning before taking her in for her next round of shots and such. Then we pretty much came home and made ready for the "6:59er" pot luck at church. There we ate, sang carols and I danced with Miriam until she fell and broke her pelvis. Yes, it's all fun and games until somebody falls and breaks a pelvis.

Yesterday I did my monthly volunteering at the Soup Kitchen before I went to work. Once there, Diane was telling me about how I would be putting away stuff from Wednesday's truck - until Vinnie reminded her of three pending deliveries. So I loaded the van and set out on my first solo delivery adventure. I only made two wrong turns, which I thought was a pretty good first try. The last stop was where Jim Snyder works. He was on the search committee that brought us here, and he's a mover and shaker with the Community Theatre. He was standing right there when I brought in the stuff. "Well," he said, "you're in the history books now. You took down Miriam."

SO! Today I must must must get to work on my critters! The ox head needs much more papier mache, and the donkey flats need to be cut out and painted and assembled into a double-sided rolling donkey. Enough ruminating, I must get fabricating!

Family Dynamics

Cats love to play. Professor Remus J. Lupin is no exception. He loves it when I chase him through the house. He loves it when the belly rub morphs into a wrestling match. W-e-e-e-l-l-l there is one thing that loves to play even more than a cat, and that's a kitten. Getting ReLu a kitten has turned out to be an excellent move.

I have already mentioned the thundering hoofbeats throughout the house these days. They wrestle, they play the chair game and the door game. Now they have started curling up to sleep together, and they've even been observed licking each other's heads.

Lucia (some folks calls her Pickles) loves Carmen more than she loves me. For one thing, I don't make myself available for her to snuggle with. The main reason for this kitten was to have a cat that likes Carmen. That also worked out well. She'll come to me in a pinch, but she'll go right to Carmen if the opportunity presents itself.

So a tiny little black and white girl kitty hath wrought great changes in our household. Long may she wave.

Change Of Life

I worked four half days this week. Hell, I worked a lot more hours during more days when we were busy at Albuquerque Little Theatre. But there I was a volunteer, doing exactly what I wanted to do and no more. It's very different having an actual job, where the boss is boss and I am the part time new guy nobody. And there's a lot I have to learn before I'll be an asset to the company.

There's a lot of computer work. It was a good thing that I spent so much of my unemployed time on my computer, so that learning curve is shorter. Our time clock is the store computer system. There are training CD ROMs to plow through part of each day. The bulk of the paint mixing is computerized. All of the sales are entered into the computer. Any delivery that includes hazardous materials has to have a bill of lading that includes every item being delivered, and the computer generates that as well. I have an idea that I'll be doing most of the deliveries. I delivered to three places on Tuesday.

Wednesday morning I gathered up all the trash and took it out to the dumpster. In the afternoon I swept, mopped and vacuumed the store before I left. Any day now I'll be cleaning the bathrooms.

Thursday afternoon Diane (the manager) took me around the store and talked about the ptoduct information on the display fixtures ("You don't need to memorize all of this if you know where to find it.") Then she started talking about her plans to rearrange the store and modify some displays - "Now you're talking my language!" I said.

Anyway, I'm happy to have a job and so far I like everybody I work with. The assistant manager, Vinnie, was on vacation this week. He's the one who tried to scare me away when I was applying for the job. I anticipate some challenges on Monday when he is back. That's okay, I've had challenges before.

The real losers have been the kitties. ReLu has had me home all day most of the time for a year and a half. Poor baby, no-one to pester for food for three hours every afternoon. And the blogs are suffering as well.

We'll get over it.

A Long Time

If you had told me any of this on June 11th, 2009, I would have scoffed heartily. I mean, I knew that we were in the throes of the worst economic meltdown ever, but I was sure that, with the help of members of the Albuquerque congregation, I would find a job somewhere doing something. The pay rate or the tasks expected of me were not an issue. Distance was an issue but not an insurmountable one. If I found a good enough job that required me to buy a car, I would have bought a car.

So a year went by. I was an extra on Breaking Bad for a day. I was an extra on Crash 2 for a day. I was paid a stipend for my work on White Christmas at Albuquerque Little Theatre. I worked two days on a museum exhibit for the Albuquerque Museum of History and Science.

Then I had my deep vein thrombosis - five days in the hospital, a month on oxygen - and then it was February. There were five months left in Albuquerque before we moved again. I was an extra on In Plain Sight. I was paid a stipend for my work on The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas. Then in June I was able to work two days, with the company I worked for in Ocoee, Florida for nine years, doing an installation at a TV station in Albuquerque. That's it for one year.

In mid-July we came to Meadville, Pennsylvania, where the house we bought required a LOT of work. But once that work was pretty near completion, I poured on the steam to find a job.

Today I begin my new job, starting work for the first time since June of 2009. I'm a little nervous about it. Is that normal? I forget.

Thanksgiving

My boy didn't wake me up until after five this morning (yesterday it was 2:30.) I fed the kids in our new style. Before Yin died, I used to feed Remus in a separate room, to prevent him from bullying Yin out of the way and eating her food before eating his. For a couple of months we got used to feeding in the regular food dish location. Yesterday morning, Lucia (Aunt Karen calls her Pickles) came nosing around the canned food distribution operation, so I scooped out some for her. She gobbled it up, then went after Professor Lupin's dish. He cast me a wounded look and walked away. I grabbed his dish from Lucia and put it in the separate room, and here I am again with two separate feeding stations, for the opposite reason. The good part is, Lucia doesn't take very long to eat, and neither does Remus. I let the boy out and went back to bed for a few more hours.

We awoke to thundering hoofbeats. Lucia and Remus were chasing each other from one end of the house to the other, up the stairs, one end to the other up there, back down the stairs and around again. They really seem to have fun together when they are both in the mood to play.

My next gig was to get the percolator going and make breakfast - 0atmeal for her, peanut butter sammich for me - then start cleaning the kitchen. We have company coming from western Massachusetts tomorrow. Then we called and talked to my mommy and daddy in the Georgia mountains while I loaded sixteen more Lucia pictures onto my computer and posted them on Facebook.

A shower and a change of clothes got us ready to drive ten miles north to Cambridge Springs for Thanksgiving dinner at The Riverside Inn there beside the river. It was good, and somebody else cooked and cleaned up which made it even better. So now the kitties are fed for the night, and my Neal Stephenson book is calling my name.

That is what I am thankful for today.

The Whole World Is A Toy

I knew this. It has always been thus. A kitten comes into my life, and suddenly everything in the house is swatted, nudged, pounced on or bitten to see what caliber of toy it is. Lucia has swatted the floor to see if it will skitter away for chasing purposes. Furniture, windows, doors, cabinets - none of them make very good toys.

We did have one calamity this morning. Even without claws, (her previous humans had her hands ruined) she can leap up onto the high backs of our dining room chairs. Fifteen pound Professor Remus John Lupin saw her do it and tried leaping up there his own damn self. The resulting crash of the chair careening over backward scared the living crap out of all four mammals in the house early this morning.

Yes, Remus has stooped so low as to actually play with our new little girl on rare occasions. She chases him through the house, attacks his tail, and plays the chair game with him between naps. With her boundless energy and his massive bulk, I can see how walking into the house after work is going to be an adventure every day for a while.

Back To Basics

"Confessions Of A Cat Juggler" started out with stories of my cats and our cats, and kind of evolved into just an online public diary. W e e e e l l l l. . . as of an hour ago, we begin a new chapter. Her name is Lucia.

When Yin died, she left a big empty space in our lives, especially Carmen's. With Remus as our only kitty, Carmen could never have a lapfull of cat, because, for whatever reason one might conjure, Remus just doesn't like her very much. People heard about our loss, and many knew people with kittens to give away. We resisted for a while, but then last week it was time. When we went to a parishoner's birthday party last Saturday, Carmen met a woman with a kitten she had rescued at three weeks old and nursed to robust health. Problem: she and her husband are going south on a sailing adventure until spring and don't want to take ten week old Lucia along.

This afternoon they brought Lucia over, complete with food and her dish and her large complement of toys. It was obviously very hard for them to give her up, but they stayed with us for a half hour or so and were assured Lucia had entered a cat-friendly household.

Soon after they left, Remus J. Lupin came out to investigate this new arrival. Overcome with curiosity, he slowly approached this tiny little girl. She let out a growl that sounded like a foghorn, followed by a hiss, and Remus backed away. I guess she showed him!

We were hoping a kitten would knock our bratty little boy off of his high horse. I think Lucia has already done it.

YAAAAAAAY ! ! !

YAAAAAAAAY ! ! !

Sherwin called at 2:55 and offered me a job. A year and a half later.

The Limbo Rock

Today is the fourth cold and rainy day in a row, welcome to northwestern Pennsylvania. The Meadville Tribune classifieds sported zero jobs which I might conceivably fake my way into. The CWDS (Commonwealth Workforce Development System) website has had nothing that I haven't already applied for. The plastic mold assembly/cleaning entry level jobs I applied for last week have been filled, leaving the geezer high and dry. Craigslist has nothing. I even tried the Tribune's employment partner Monster again, despite repeated disappointments at that site - disappointed again. Just like last year, many places advertised UPS seasonal driver helper jobs available here, but just like last year, I jumped through hoop after hoop to the end of their gauntlet only to be informed that there are no positions open in my area. What else can I do? Go door to door in the rain begging for a job? Can you spare a dime?

Yesterday I made myself useful by getting the toilet and vanity as ready as possible for the plumber to do her/his thing and doing a little cosmetic finishing on the throne platform. Last week I did the chicken wire sculpture of my annual ox head for the Christmas play, now waiting for a half gallon of glue for the papier mache skin. I could install plastic over the outside of the french doors, trapping rain water in tight spaces until May or June, but my Spidey sense tells me that drier is better, so wait for a non-rainy day - in May or June?

Limbo. Come on, Sherwin Williams! Rescue me from limbo!

Stronger

My Friday interview with Diane at Sherwin Williams went really well, as far as I'm concerned. I'm hoping to know how she thought it went by the end of the week. I told her I'd bug her Friday afternoon if I haven't heard anything by then.

Meanwhile, we hosted the UU Church of Meadville Search Committee part two Friday night - five guests for dinner. Once again, Carmen cooked! What the hell?! Anyway, they were all properly impressed with our funky house and the monstrous bookcases.

Saturday we cleaned up the place for our Sunday event while we had the chance, because we went to a 70th birthday party for a church member Saturday afternoon. On the way home we stopped at the grocery store for supplies for our Sunday event, put them away and went to the church "Dinner of Thanks" until late in the evening.

Sunday morning was the church service, which I recorded as usual, and then I walked home while Carmen met with her committee. I did some more cleaning and rearranging for our open house for everyone involved with the pledge drive. Forty people RSVPed that they were coming. We were ready for them, too. But it turned out to be a cold and rainy afternoon and evening, and only ten people showed up. The last one left at 9:30. We put the food away and crashed.

So our much-anticipated weekend has come and gone, and it didn't kill us. Did it make us stronger? I guess it did.

Today I spent pretty much the whole day washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, then Carmen called wanting to go to the Humane Society to look at kittens and cats. She didn't see any that called her name. Believe it or not, we came home empty handed! That never happens!

So now it's back to job hunting, in case Diane takes leave of her senses and hires somebody else.

A Breakthrough!

Carmen asked me to let this be known to my vast readership. I have not mentioned this before in this forum, but our boy Remus J. Lupin is my cat almost exclusively. He spurns Carmen's affections regularly, unless she has the bag of cat treats in her hand. This was not a biggie when Yin and Yang were around. She could always conjure up a lapfull of kitty. Since Yin died, Carmen has poured on the steam trying to win over this Mozzarelly Belly brat - who is, at this moment, perched on my desk, hoping to convince me that it's two hours later than it is (four thirty feeding time.) She has the electric blanket on on her side of the bed, but he sleeps on my unheated side. She tries to pet him and he runs away.

Last evening I was busy fixing supper and the boy was following me around like a puppy (our little dog Remus) so I picked him up and put him in Carmen's lap. He stayed there for a long time. So maybe her hard work is paying off. I hope so. This cat adoration is definitely a double-edged sword!

Woo Hoo

The nice lady at the local Sherwin Williams store has been too busy to look at my application and resume, therefore she did not call me yesterday as promised, therefore I called her today. Harried and hurried, she made an appointment for an interview Friday morning - my first interview since Marshalls in Albuquerque a year ago, and my fourth since leaving Massachusetts a year and a half ago. Here's hoping it leads to actual paid employment. It's part time and within walking distance, and it doesn't get any better than that!

I told the guy at Career Concepts Staffing Service that I feel like I have fourteen strikes against me, and I haven't even been up to bat. Number one: thare are always many many applicants for every job I've applied for; two: I'm the old guy they can eliminate quickly; three: I gots no eddycation past high school; four: I haven't been employed since June of '09; five: I had four employers from '05 to '09, although two of them were during a Mystic layoff; six: I've moved four times in five years, covering four states; seven: my career during the past twenty two years has been in an industry that does not exist in or near Meadville (maybe Pittsburgh?!) eight: I have "benign essential tremor" which causes my hands to shake, which I believe is perceived as a drinking problem, of which I have none (although I do drink a heavily spiked egg nog at least once every December;) nine: I have no vehicle, which was an asset in Boston but is perceived as a severe liability in Albuquerque and Meadville; ten: I am overweight, which is a consequence of a) not working and b) quitting smoking; eleven: I have applied for, probably two hundred jobs during the past year and a half, and had replies back from about six of them, which makes me angry that these companies will make me (us) jump through so many hoops to submit an application to them, but can't be bothered to call or email a notification that they've even received it! twelve: I am very disheartened by all of this, and I fear my cynicism might show. Ya think? So that's twelve. I'm sure at least two more will occur to me as soon as I publish this.

So that is why an interview is such a big deal. I hope I can go in there and calmly convince her that I have the physical and emotional durability she is looking for, even if I am an old geezer!

This Masquerade

I'm sequestered here in my office (wow, can you believe I've got my own office?!) while Carmen continues to work on her sermon for tomorrow. Good thing the clock is falling back tonight, because it's midnight. That extra hour will come in handy. Anyway, I've got, I don't know, maybe a thousand of my all time favorite songs on my computer, and headphones so I don't disturb any sermonics.

George Benson is playing - one of my top ten favorites - and once again I was gobsmacked (one of Neal Stephenson's favorite words) by a song, written by Leon Russell, I first heard by The Carpenters in the early seventies, and done very differently by Benson on his "Breezin'" album in '76. It always makes me melancholy because it was the (Carpenters) song that forced me to realize that my first love with the girl who used to live next door was - stick a fork in it - done. The line "Thoughts of leaving disappear every time I see your eyes" was the lullapalooza, because that was the thing I couldn't reconcile with the "Searching but not finding understanding anywhere" part of the situation. Being lost in a masquerade is a hard thing to face up to, but I did it and I ended it. That was the trigger for the deepest, blackest depression ever, spiraling down from April 1974 to Christmas Day 1976. Coming out of it was nothing short of miraculous. I was lying in bed, tired after working all day, and a strange feeling came over me. I didn't recognize it for a long while, but slowly it dawned on me that...I felt good! That hadn't happened in a long long time, like ten years. If I was going to make up a story to explain it, I'd say it was "This Masquerade" by Benson on the radio that snapped my head around that late December.

I consider myself something of an authority on depression. My brother was plagued with it for fifty years or so, and spent that whole time blaming our parents. I came to realize that it's a chemical thing more than anything, and the best way to fight it is to let it come and go. I spent ten years clinging to it, making it worse by succumbing to it and eating a lot of crap.

Anyway, when I hear that song it reminds me of lost love and a whole lot of lost time. I've enjoyed my life so much during the past thirty years, it makes me sad to remember the many long years of making myself miserable. I won't do that again.

Library Bound

I haven't posted in a while because I've been determined to do two time-consuming things - find a job and finish volume three of Neal Stephenson's Baroque Cycle. I got the first book, "Quicksilver" for my birthday in January, 2009. I read it and "The Con-fusion" during my weeks of unemployment that January and February. "The System Of The World" I have been checking out of libraries and trying to read ever since then. While living the life of a minister's spouse, I've been vacating the minister's study (742 Chestnut Street) for whole days (such as right now,) spending many hours reading (and using the computers) at the Meadville Crawford County Library, finally arriving at the two hundred fifty page climax of the many intertwined stories last week. I checked it out on Monday night and finished it (!) yesterday, between applying for and calling about a half-dozen or so jobs within walking distance of 742 Chestnut Street.

The best looking job in a year or more is a "Sales Associate" position at the local Sherwin Williams store. The one guy who works there tried to scare me off with the strenuousness of the work, lifting cases and buckets of paint, loading the van for deliveries. He's obviously never seen me work! The manager says she'll call me on Tuesday. Fingers crossed!

Is It November Yet?!

I think it's over now, the month-long Hallowe'en Extravaganza. Last night was the Meadville Hallowe'en parade, the largest nighttime parade in the commonwealth of Pennsylvania. The UU church had a table selling coffee, hot chocolate, hot cider, bottles of water and various cookies. We didn't sell much, because the church is situated just past the end of the parade, where the various entries split off in different directions and disassemble themselves.

This morning on the way to church, we saw the remains of pumpkins smashed all up and down Chestnut Street. The sidewalks are still littered with the spills of candy here and there and wrappers strewn everywhere. Humans is humans, even in meadville.

Next time I walk downtown I expect to see the yard four houses west cleared of ghosts, skeletons, black cats, coffins, mannequins and headstones. I'm guessing he'll blow everybody away with his Christmas crap, and he'll probably start on it as soon as the Hallowe'en crap is safely stored wherever it is he stores it.

Luckily, the over-the-top decorating thing is not mandated. Some do and some don't. I'm coming down on the side of don't.

High Holy Days

In Meadville, Pennsylvania, "High Holy Days" means the whole month of October, leading up to Hallowe'en. Decorating actually starts in September. In the City of Meadville, Trick Or Treat night is the Thursday night before Hallowe'en. The kids are out of school on Friday. The huge Hallowe'en Parade is Saturday.

Last night from 6:00 until 7:30 people brought their kids from miles outside of Meadville to Chestnut Street, the trick or treat capital of Crawford County. The street was crammed full of kids in costume (or not) and containers ranging from plastic grocery bags to the fanciest plush candy-hauling technology I've ever seen. Parents with babies sleeping in strollers collected candy. Teenagers who needed a shave begged for candy. Little ones who were as yet unable to say "Trick or treat" got candy anyway. I ran out at 6:55. My next door neighbor saw he was running out, sent someone to the store for more, and still ran out at 7:10. Two neighbors keep a count. The one on the north side counted 387; the guy across the street had 422. All I know is - it was a lot!

Yesterday late morning I was still thinking about what I wanted to do. I didn't want kids coming up to my porch. At last I pulled out some scrap plywood from the bookcase project and built a portal for the sidewalk at the top of the lower steps leading partway up the hill. I painted it with leftover purple paint from the living room project, stapled our orange lights around it and stationed myself in a chair beneath it. It worked great - until 6:55.

Next year: twice as much candy and more decoration. I'm posting a picture of the yard four houses west of us. Now that's Hallowe'en!

A Reason To Explore

Karen is here visiting for a few days. She and Carmen met at a big law firm in Orlando in 1988 and have been best friends ever since. She has visited us in two houses in St. Cloud, Florida, our house in Orlando, our apartment in Watertown, Massachusetts, twice during our Albuquerque year and now Meadville, Pennsylvania.

Karen flew into Pittsburgh and rented a car to drive the ninety miles to Meadville on Saturday morning. She's sleeping in the living room on two Aero beds stacked like a box spring and mattress. These can be turned up on their ends out of the way during the day, then laid down quickly and easily for sleeping. Easy peasy.

Although she's Southern Baptist, she nearly always comes to church with us when she visits, especially if Carmen is preaching like today. She has a fairly good grasp of the Unitarian Universalist mindset, having hung out with Carmen since we first joined the Orlando church in 1990, and stayed with her through Lesley University, Andover Newton Theological School, and ordination in Albuquerque.

So now we get to see the sights of Meadville with her. Today we ate lunch at Montana Rib And Chop House, our favorite local restaurant, then drove around the area to places I'd never seen before. Then we walked part of Woodcock Dam, and stopped at a wonderful ice cream stand on the way home. It's good to have company. And the weather! It was seventy degrees and sunny, probably the most pleasant day weather-wise we've experienced here.

Rain is forecast for tomorrow and Tuesday, but we are going to try to go to Pymatuning Spillway, where the ducks walk across the backs of the fish (look it up, I'm not kidding.) We've heard about this, evidently the premier attraction in northwestern Pennsylvania, since we first started talking to the Search Committee in January. Several locals have threatened to take us there, but we've held out so far. Looks like tomorrow might be the day we become official residents, having passed the rite of Pymatuning.

Maybe we'll hit a deer on the way back. That's the other thing we haven't done.

Another Hard Lesson

It's easy to get disheartened with this blog business. I hear others talk about their blog as if it's the greatest thing in the world, and I have absolutely no desire to check it out. Therefore, I can perceive my three blogs in the same light - something I am very proud of that I want everyone in the world to read, while everyone in the world is blithely ignoring them due to total lack of interest.

Then, suddenly, I go to the sites and see comments, and the comments tell me that someone out there IS reading them and even getting some sort of enjoyment and/or enlightenment from them. Who knew? And tonight I even got a personal email from a friend. I didn't even know that she had ever heard of Cat Juggler, yet there she was, telling me how reading it had changed her perspective on an issue we are both struggling with.

Years ago in Orlando, I wrote and delivered over a dozen sermons about issues I was struggling with. After the services were over I would stand at the door as people filed out, receiving hugs and handshakes and hearing people telling me what little piece of my message had touched them. Now, as the minister's husband, I am not in a position to do that. My outlet for that part of my psyche is Confessions of a Cat Juggler. No hugs. No handshakes. Only very rarely a comment or even any indication that anyone is reading it.

Evidently, there are quite a few stealth readers out there. I guess this means I'll have to keep writing the damned thing!

Changing Seasons

When we arrived here in western Pennsylvania after a year in New Mexico, we were kind of blinded by green. Everywhere we looked the world was green, very different from Albuquerque.

Lately, one by one the trees have been turning bright yellows, oranges, reds and golds, filling the scenery with blazing color - even the ground. Today we went out to Woodcock Lake and walked across the dam. The air was crisp and cool, making the warmth of the sun a welcome thing. There were a dozen or so people walking or jogging or scootering. And, yes, we even saw someone we know from church! Such is life in a small town.

Therein lies part two of the changing seasons. Rightly or wrongly, it has slowly dawned on me that, along with giving up show business as a breadwinning pursuit, along with the sudden realization that I have become a geezer, and along with trying to figure out what this geezer's next breadwinning pursuit might be in this wrecked economy, I also need to get over myself.

Many of the one or two of you who might still be reading these ramblings know me as a smart-ass with a penchant for leaping as far as necessary to drive home a smart-ass remark or a silly notion. That is who I am, it seems, and it is who I can no longer be. I can no longer be the minister's wife. I can no longer be "Damn it, Jim!" I can no longer be "old, beat up and tired" as my status. My position, under the microscope of the congregation we serve, in this small town where we cannot go anywhere without seeing someone we know (or who knows who we are) is that of the gracious, courteous and discreet minister's spouse, with a tightly reined in sense of humor.

Is it possible that I'll bite my tongue enough that it will turn bright yellow, orange and red, then fall to the ground?

Kitten?

Kittens are cute, there's no denying. Even Remus J. Lupin was a cute kitten once. Now he's a huge overweight cat.

For twenty four years we've had at least two cats, and sometimes as many as four. Even if they hated each other, they still kept each other company. I remember good ol' Peanut - he didn't get along with Harvie, Itty Bitty, Yang or Remus, but he loved our little blind girl. They curled up together whenever he came inside.

Lately we've been contemplating getting Remus a kitten, whether he wants one or not. We're thinking, if nothing else, a kitten will help the "Mozzarelly Belly" weight loss program. Nothing keeps a grown up cat on his toes like a kitten.

We know of a dozen or so people with kittens to give away, and they all know our little girl died recently. So far we've managed to stave them off. But it's just a matter of time. ReLu needs a kitten.

Frog Tape

We had a professional painter paint our living room and foyer. The living room is orange with a yellow ceiling, the foyer is red. The plan was to paint the inner faces of the archways purple, the fireplace brick purple, and four inches down around the top of the walls purple. He kept telling us about this great new stuff called Frog Tape, for masking off color changes such as the purple border he was planning. So he finished the orange, and tried to tape off the border.

The tape wouldn't stick! He talked to the Sherwin Williams people. They said that the paint needed to dry for three days. He came back yesterday and put some tape up on one part of the living room - the part where no furniture needs to move. About an hour after he left, the tape started falling down.

There is something about that deep base used for the orange - Frog Tape won't stick to it! so the living room walls are going to be orange all the way. Personally, I'm glad, but don't tell the design team I said so.

Lost And Found

In January of 2002 I voluntarily went to our therapist solo. I was in great distress, as you would have surmised if you knew me well and learned that I went to any form of doctor voluntarily.

A year earlier I had dusted off an old 1993 sermon entitled "Life And Death Tangled In The Interdependent Web," updated it with a couple of excellent books that had been published in the interim and renamed it "Leading The Way To Hope." In it I described our disastrous environmental situation, and ended up by describing how Unitarian Universalists were poised to be the leaders of the movement toward sustainability and responsible stewardship. At that moment I could see the tipping point ahead, where we would lead the world into a better tomorrow.

I already had a small local circuit that I toured: our Orlando UU congregation; the lay-led University UUs - a congregation birthed from the loins of the Orlando church; and the little lay-led Eustis congregation. If one of my offerings was well-received in Orlando, the others would hear of it and invite me to speak. Lay-led congregations are always hungry for speakers, even if we're just lowly carpenters (and who ever heard of a carpenter being a religious leader?!)

This particular sermon was so well liked, I was approached at District Annual Assembly by a representative of the Nature Coast congregation on the west coast of Florida. He had been asking around the other lay-led congregational representatives for suggestions of speakers. This sparked a germ of an idea in me. I had a District Directory that told me the names of all of the people in charge of lining up speakers in the district churches and fellowships. I printed up a flyer describing my sermon and mailed it out to every congregation in the Florida District, knowing that even churches with settled ministers had periodic lay services during the year and usually during the whole summer. Well... I got a pretty good response. Many had heard of me, and those who hadn't were directed to the many congregational leaders who had already experienced a Jim Emerson sermon.

During the spring and summer of 2001 I was out of town nearly every Sunday. I went to Lecanto, Ocala, Port Charlotte, Clearwater, Bradenton, and even Key West. Ocala asked me back for a date in early October, and Daytona signed me up for mid-November. I was on top of my strange little world, riding a wave of appreciation for my writing and my public speaking skills.

And then those damned four airplanes got hijacked into a huge high-profile big body count attack on the very same American wasteful value system I had been envisioning being phased out by peaceful example-led change from within. At that moment I watched my vision of a sustainable culture crash, explode, burn and die.

I was scheduled in Ocala to deliver a talk about humans and the blurring of the lines that we have drawn around ourselves separating us from the other animals. I tried to write that - really I did - but I couldn't pull my head out of my despair. So I wrote about what I really felt. What a mistake that was! Yes, I stayed for the "talk back" portion of the service, and felt as though the mood of my audience would have been more eloquently expressed by a barrel of hot tar and some feathers. Were these the same UUs I had recently invested with so much hope?

In November I mustered the gumption to go to Daytona and deliver "Leading The Way To Hope" as scheduled, but I did so with a very heavy heart. That is when I learned that I did not believe it any longer. My hope was gone.

Doctor Hughes listened to my tale of woe, and did what he could to help me dig out from my despair. He told me that EVERYONE had lost something on September 11th, 2001. I had lost my hope.

Life gradually got better for me, although I became more reclusive, and I was pretty introverted before. I withdrew from Unitarian Universalism just as Carmen was poised on the threshold of her quest for ministry. As we moved to Massachusetts and became immersed in the history of the UU movement, I gained a huge amount of respect for the things about it that I had admired years before, but now saw with mine own eyes. We visited dozens of churches that had been ongoing since the 1640s and directly involved in many upheavals in our culture.

At church this morning, Carmen's sermon was about the dynamics of cultural evolution, resistance to change and fiery determination to take it to where someone thinks it ought to be. Religious freedom and religious pluralism was the focus of the sermon, and the events leading up to recent anti-muslim sentiment were spelled out. Her point was that Unitarian Universalists were poised on the threshold of tipping the scales toward real religious pluralism, because this is what we are all about and have been for decades. I was forcefully reminded of the events leading up to the day my hope was lost.

Today, I think I found it again.

The Geezer of Meadville

On March 11th of this year I posted "The Conquering Geezer Returns," a slice of my new life as an official geezer (the tipping of the scales was the hearing aids.) On March 11th, on my way home from getting my aids tuned up, I had to wait an hour for the next bus to my neck of the desert (in Albuquerque.) I walked into Wendy's at 11:00am and found myself surrounded by geezers. So I turned up my hearing aids, adjusted my trifocals, hitched up my compression stocking and limped in on my orthotic arch supports.

Today I walked down to the Area Agency for Aging, where I was hoping to get some help finding a job. I was walking past the Wendy's at about 1:15 and realized I was hawngry! Well guess what - it was filled with geezers. I felt right at home.

After eating I went on down Park Street to the address of the AAA - in the Senior Center. I went inside and walked from one end of the building to the other. Nobody was home, even at the welcome desk. I guess they were all at Wendy's.

So I walked over to Market and Chestnut Streets to the Pennsylvania Commonwealth Workforce Development office, hoping for some help there. I found a couple of geezers there. I think they were volunteers. Their "job" was to help people look for work on the Workforce Development website. It turned out that I knew more about that than they did. I did a little looking on their computers just to be polite, then walked on home. My computer is faster than theirs.

It was a nice walk, anyway.

Only Kitty

When Professor Remus John Lupin came into our lives, he was the youngest of four kitties. Big bad Peanut was outside most of the time, and when he came in he would take nothing from Remus. Yang avoided him as much as possible, and Yin wasn't much fun to hide from and pounce on, so R.J. Lupin slept a lot, ate the cheese Aunt Cyndie fed him and grew that famous Mozzarelly Belly we know and love.

In 2005 Peanut went to live with my parents at their mountain cabin in Georgia. In 2008 Yang died. As long as Yin was alive, ReLu had to be fed in a separate room and kept there until Yin was finished eating - otherwise Remus would eat her food then his. Yin was always underweight, so we kept a good supply of dry food in a bowl for her to munch between feedings - which kept Remus' mozzarelly belly in full bloom. Now that Yin is no longer with us, the perfesser is on a diet! He doesn't much like it either. He howls at me to put down dry food between meals, and I put down ten or twelve nuggets. He looks at me with a puzzled, contemptuous expression.

It's been over a week since Yin did any eating. I've been feeding Remus "where the white kitties eat" this whole time, but he still goes to his quarantine room door when I set out to feed him. Critter of habit.

Sometimes he howls for no apparent reason, and we have to wonder if he's grieving for Yin. After all, she was good for a pounce and roll every now and again, or a game of "under the door" or "the chair game." And they often shared the sunshine streaming in through the back doors in Albuquerque and here. I'm certain he misses her.

He has never been an only child before, taking the brunt of both of our affections. But he seems to be getting used to it.

The Heart Of A Lion! - A Eulogy

Yin died tonight at about 8:30. For several days she has done little but lie there breathing, with that heart of a lion pumping. She was in Carmen's lap when it finally stopped.


The vet told us when we rescued her and her brother that they were damaged goods and we shouldn't expect them to live longer than three or four years. Yang died two and a half years ago at nine years old, and Yin made it to eleven and a half. She was always an inspiration.


At four weeks old when they were dumped by a breeder, they would both fit in the palm of my hand. After they were nursed back to health, they were regular kittens, into everything, exploring everywhere. Yin had no pupils in her eyes so we knew she was blind, but she was determined to go wherever Yang went, climbing up on chairs, desks, sinks and dressers. She used to run down the hall, turn into the bedroom and leap onto the bed - until we moved the bed. After that she would never jump up on anything unless she could feel the top of it with her front paws. She would jump down off of anything, though, trusting that the floor would always be there. She landed in a waste basket or two, but mostly that procedure worked. For that reason, we were sure to always close the lid on the toilet - and were aghast when a visitor would leave it open.

She had a mental map in her head at all times and in all places we lived - she lived in five houses with us - and changed the map when the furniture moved. If she heard us talking about taking her to the vet, she could hide faster and more bafflingly than any other cat we've had.


When she was young we had a bent wood rocking chair. We're not sure how it got started, but she had a frequent game going where she climbed up into the chair, ran up the back so it rocked down and up and down and up, until it stopped, then she would run back down to the seat and back up the back to ride the ride again, sometimes eight or ten times before she moved on to some other entertainment.


In Orlando our back pool deck was completely fenced in, so one day we let Yin and Yang outside to explore and sniff and feel the sunshine. For about a half hour it was paradise. They circled the pool, smelled the bushes, swatted at lizards and rolled around in the sunshine. Then they came on back around, looking like they were ready to go inside. I got up to open the door, and my chair made a loud scraping noise. Yin bolted away from the sound - directly into the pool! Carmen jumped in after her, grabbed her and tried to hand her to me - a sopping wet furry buzz saw of claws! We were both bleeding from several wounds by the time we got her calmed down and dried off. The next time she went outside was in the walled-in pool-free back yard in Albuquerque.

She saw us through Simply Organized, Inc., Lesley University, Andover Newton Theological School, the Albuquerque internship and the beginning of the Meadville ministry. I guess her work was done. We shall sorely miss her.

Big Doins in Meadville!

In the past five years and five months I have lived in Orlando, greater Boston and Albuquerque before moving to Meadville. What I've noticed about Meadville is that things that would attract very small crowds in very big cities are per capita very big draws here. The first example is one we haven't seen yet, but we are assured that we must: there is a dam hereabouts where people feed the carp bread, and they have grown so big and so numerous that ducks walk across their backs. That's entertainment.

There are three theatrical entities in the city plus a few out in the hinterlands - we have been to shows put on by two of them already.

Thunder In the City, a motorcycle and classic car festival, was in the city the second weekend in August. The UU church put on a pancake breakfast that Saturday morning and nearly broke even.

The County Fair was last month, and every place we went people asked us if we had gone to the fair yet. (Don't tell anybody - we never did go.)

This week The Tall Ships are in Erie, and the chatter is all stories about times folks have gone up there to see them in years past, and/or plans to go see them this time.

This past Wednesday we were invited by a church member to the Crawford County Historical Society's presentation by a man who has done a lot of research into the history of the Medal of Honor with an emphasis on the two Meadville residents who were awarded the medal for their valor at Gettysburg in 1863. There were about seventy people there.

And today was my second session serving the homeless at The Soup Kitchen over at the Methodist Church across the street from the UU church. There were five of us from the UU church (the second Friday of each month is our day) four non-UU volunteers and after a while we were joined by about ten members of the Allegheny College Gators football team.

What I'm saying, I guess, is that in those places I used to live, this sort of thing is overshadowed by the sheer mass of events and activities available on a daily basis. Here in small town Pennsylvania, this is what there is to do, so many people do it. It's kind of refreshing, really.

I like it!

Wrong Again?

Those who've known me for a long time know that I am often wrong. Those who know cats know that they are expert in the field of making liars out of us. The freshest example that comes to mind is the food Yin just ate - a chunky bits in gravy kind of food that, until a few weeks ago (when Carmen bought some by mistake) I vehemently said that Yin will not eat. She eats it now.

The other possibility is that she overheard us talking about veterinarians, and decided she'd better snap out of her "declining" behavior. I've seen that before, too. She has been on enough vet visits to have figured out the drill.

Anyway, the bottom line is that she has perked up and is no longer acting as though the end is near. So - disregard the previous post.

Sad Times A-Coming

It appears that our little Miss Yinny Yin Yin is winding down. She hides in her little cave a lot, she hovers over her water dish for hours at a time, and most telling, she doesn't struggle when we pick her up.

As you'll recall from my early postings last fall, she and her litter-mate brother were dumped by a breeder at four weeks old, as soon as their eyes opened. Yang was a wall-eyed Siamese, and Yin has no pupils in her eyes - bad ju-ju for a breeder

Our vet told us not to expect either of them to live longer than four years. In fact, Yang died once on the operating table and was resuscitated when he was three months old. He died again two years ago at the ripe old age of nine. Yin is eleven and up until a couple of weeks ago, was still going strong. Now she's losing weight - and she was always underweight - and looking kind of ragged like her brother did before he died.

We are being intentional about giving her quality lap time these days, and doing everything we know to do to make her feel loved during her last days, weeks, months - whatever. It's hard to say good bye to one who has been such an inspiration to us - a blind little girl kitty with the heart of a lion! Our friend Colleen described Yin's legacy this way: she showed us that being scared is just the first step toward being brave.

Where Does The Time Go?

Almost three months ago I was looking down the barrel of the cannon that would shoot us to our new home here in Meadville, PA. Since then I've been taken off anti-coagulants (which means I'm back on ibuprofen,) we closed on our house, Carmen was ordained, we packed up all of our stuff for the movers, who came right on schedule on July 5th, drove four days with two cats, the movers arrived about six hours late (not bad, really, as movers go) on July 10th, and since then we've been alternately unpacking and remodeling our cute little house here.

I'm sitting in my office - you heard me right, MY office - I can shut the door and everything! Carmen's office, meditation space, artsy fartsy room and primary closet are upstairs in the former attic that was sold to us as a "Master Suite" because it was scheduled to have a bathroom. Someday it will have a bathroom. I promise. My other domain, besides the kitchen, is the basement, a wet and musty-smelling place that Carmen is happy to let me rule. Early in my reign I donned a hazmat suit, put bleach in my squirt tank, and hosed down the whole interior of my basement.

The yard is huge compared to anything we had in Boston or Albuquerque. We bought me a lawn mower and a battery powered weed whacker (I LOVE IT!) first thing. Today I bought a 24' extension ladder to fix a small leak around the vent pipe. I've hung three ceiling fans, two regular doors, three bifold doors, two accordion doors, one window air conditioner for the attic space, two sets of mini blinds and three sets of "regular" blinds, and walls, floor and ceiling in the new attic closet since we've been here. And painted. There's a lot more, but those are some highlights.

And the kitties? Well, the big french doors face south toward Pittsburgh, and the back yard is home to birds, bunnies, squirrels, dogs and about five neighborhood cats who use the former owner's horseshoe pits as outdoor litter boxes. Anyway, the kids can sit in the sun and watch the show (or listen to it, in one case) which can entertain them all day while chaos reigns around them. In addition, there are new rooms to explore, including a basement, new furniture to test-rest, and the magic fountain of food still flows twice a day.

What more could a kitty want?!

Close Encounters Of The Bird Kind

In my previous posting I mentioned my intention to go for long walks in an attempt to build stamina for my two 10-hour days next week (10-hour days kicked my ass even twenty years ago.) Yesterday I was fulfilling that promise. I walked the arroyo path to Ventura and was fixin' ta walk to Harper when the bike path caught my attention. For many months I've wondered if that bike path went all the way to Wyoming Avenue, but until yesterday I was either headed for Academy Road or was in too much of a crunch to risk a time-consuming adventure that might turn into a dead end. Yesterday I was walking for the sake of walking, so an adventure was just the ticket.

Well, it turns out that the path almost makes it to Wyoming - just a few parking lots in between. It actually ends at the Cherry Hills branch of the library. Anyway, it was a much more pleasant walk than Harper, where the dogs bark and sometimes even snap at me over the concrete block walls between their yards and the sidewalk, mere inches from my new hearing aids.

So I was walking along, trying to keep up a brisk pace, when a big ol' roadrunner came running up the path straight at me. I stopped. It stopped about thirty feet away and stared at me for about ten seconds, then it turned around and ran away. I guess I'm pretty scary looking. Good thing I'm not a coyote.

The Long Good Bye

My work on The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas is finished. At the end of this week I'll pick up my check for $500! Woo hoo!!!

Most of the landscaping in our yard is weeded for the big wing ding on June 5th, when the folks coming from out of town and the folks participating in the Ordination ceremony (some are both) will be here in this little house and back yard - all thirty-some of them. This project also entails getting the sliding glass door (we call it the screeching glass door) fixed. Oh well, Marilyn would have to get it fixed before she could sell the house anyway. The rollers are gonzo!

Tomorrow is my big day. At 1:30 is my appointment at the Coumadin Clinic. Ahn will poke my finger and get a reading of my anti-coagulant level. Then I'll have my first (and last?) appointment with the mythical Dr. Garcia, in whose name all of my prescriptions have been written (in Ahn's handwriting.) I'm hoping he takes me off the "rat poison" after six months, as was explained to me back in December.

Then I "race" home on the Albuquerque transit system to get ready for the Ministerial Spouses Dinner with William (Rev. Christine Robinson's husband) and Carlos (Rev. Angela Herrera's husband.) It doesn't sound like my cup of tea at all, but I figure I'll live through it and it will re-enforce my ministerial spouse identity - something that will come in handy for being a ministerial spouse that is active in the congregation in Meadville, PA.

Last Friday afternoon I filled out nine pages of paperwork for my former employer, F/X. They're coming to Albuquerque on June 2nd with a set for KRQE News. My buddy Keith suggested I talk to my buddy Brannen, the Production Manager and my Facebook Friend, about getting on the crew. Of course, the Ordination Department "suggested" I not work on June 4th, 5th or 6th. What with Union relations etc. this means I will be working the 2nd and 3rd only, approximately twenty hours. Hell, it took me almost that long to download, fill out and fax back my application package. You'll be happy to know that I sent along my letter of recommendation from their former general manager, now vice president, in my fourteen-page fax.

One thing that nags at me is that I may no longer have the stamina to work two ten-hour days. A year of NOT working, plus a blood clot have made it difficult to do a lot of anything. My plan is to do a lot of walking during these nine days. I've mentioned in the recent past that I feel as if my career in show business has come to an end. That's fine with me. I accidentally changed careers twenty two years ago to get into the Biz, now I can't wait to find out what the next accident will bring. Of course, being a minister's wife will be job one, but an income would be helpful as well. I don't believe that growing and selling chile peppers will do much in that department. I've already applied to the Meadville Home Depot, a cabinet shop, a portable horse stables rental place, a machine shop... As soon as I post this I'll be strolling over to The Meadville Tribune to see what's new there.

I returned to Facebook on Wednesday. All I did was log in, and everything was as I left it. First, I played the Scrabble move I had abandoned nineteen days earlier. Then I culled fourteen more people from my "Friends," bringing my total to an even twenty nine - including "Strange Women Lying About In Ponds Distributing Swords As A System Of Government," one of my favorite friends. Never posts anything.

Almost a month and a half left here in Abq, not enough time to start anything, and way too long to be saying good bye.

Abq Snafeaux

Two days in a row now I've missed my #2 bus connexion, arriving in time to actually see the number two bus a couple blocks north of Central (Historic Route 66) and fading fast into the distance. Yesterday it was the consequence that was the snafu, and today the missing of the conexion was the consequence of an earlier snafu. Stop me if I go on and on about really boring (to anyone but me) stuff.

Yesterday the #66 bus just had more stops than normal. It seemed as though somebody wanted to get on or off at every turquoise bus stop sign on Central. What started out as "plenty of time" to get to Eubank by 5:31 turned into a 5:34 arrival. Now there are times when the #2 runs late, but a glance at the empty bus stop showed that it had gone by. Further study revealed the back of a bus way up the street. The next one was scheduled for 6:00.

There is a small problem with the 6:00 bus. Unlike the 3:30, 4:00, 4:30, 5:00, 5:30 or 6:30, the 6:00 runs the midday schedule: instead of going Eubank to Academy to Ventura and past my development, this one goes Eubank to Layton, to Academy and back to Eubank - bypassing Ventura and letting me off about a mile from my house. The alternative: let it go by and wait for the 6:30. I opted for the walk. I like to walk.

So I'm on the 6:00 and Carmen calls. She's working until about 6:30. I tell her to look for me on Ventura and at least wave as she goes by. So we get to Eubank and Layton, and the driver keeps going on Eubank! Cool, I thought, he doesn't know about the rogue schedule. I'll just keep my baloney lips zipped and ride on down Ventura. So he gets to Academy and stops. He gets up, carrying his written route directions, and asks the two passengers if we know how he's supposed to go. We both want to go down Ventura, so that's what we tell him. He doesn't buy it so he gets on the communication device and phones home. They tell him he should have gone on Layton. "Oh well," he says to us, "I guess I'll just stay here until time to go back south on Eubank. There'll be another bus along shortly." I decided to walk.

That is how my one mile walk turned into a two mile walk. It was after 7:00 and I was almost home when Carmen called again. She was just now ready to leave work. No wonder I never saw her go by and wave.

Today, on the other hand, was a #66 glitch. We were cruising along, with plenty plenty plenty of time to make the 12:41. I was even thinking of walking up Eubank to "The Chile Addict" store to see what they had in books about growing green chiles (I don't believe they'll be as easy to come by in Pennsylvania) and maybe some seeds. There was a beautiful little 10-year-old girl in a wheelchair on the bus, and that could take some time to unload, but even so, plenty plenty plenty of time.

And then we got to downtown, to the Alvarado Transportation Center. There in the bus loading/unloading zone out front was an old beater of a car, "parked" about three feet out from the curb. In trying to maneuver to the #66 bus stop, our bus barely scraped a corner of this car. Some yelling occurred, and the Transit Police came out in force. After many minutes went by, we were told to exit the bus. We did. Another #66 would be along shortly. Suddenly, the old beatermobile drove away! So, after many minutes, we were told we could reboard the bus. We did so, but just before we pulled away, the car returned, more yelling ensued, and we were asked once again to exit the bus. This time a #66 pulled in behind, and we all boarded that one, including wheelchair girl and her family.

Of course, after all of that plus the unloading of the wheelchair along the way, we made it to Eubank at 12:43, just in time to see the back of the #2 bus fade into the distance. The next one was at 1:41.

The good news: I now have a great book about growing chile peppers and two packets of seeds!

Two More Months Of Stuff

Sundays won't be nearly as exhausting for Carmen as they have been since September. The third service, the "contemporary service" during which a band plays music from the sixties and seventies, and the sermon is dropped unceremoniously into the middle, has been discontinued for the duration of the summer. Instead of being finished at 2:00, church will be over at noon. She'll still be tired, especially since she was up late finishing her homily last night.

Soon her internship will officially be finished. From then until July 4th she will be the "Acting Associate Minister" before the newly hired Associate Minister is installed. I don't think this upgrade in her title will entail much extra work - she's already doing the job without the title. On the night of her last day of Albuquerque ministry, the whole country will be shooting off fireworks to celebrate her transition from student / associate minister to fully fledged minister to the congregation in Meadville, Pennsylvania!

Remember that I said that the plan changes often? Well, my previous posting described my journey to Meadville beginning directly after Ordination. That changed a day or two after I posted it. Now, Carmen and I are going together in the Rav4 directly after the moving company drives the truck away, probably following the same routine we followed with the kitties on the way here. The Gospel of Rand McNally includes a detailed description of this procedure, which involves listening to them whine in their carriers during the morning, and letting them join us up front after lunch and gas fill-up. Four days on the road will not be as stressful as sixteen - I hope.

Less than two months to go. Most of our stuff is still packed from the last move. I've packed up our "fancy" dishes already, as well as my new Beatles boxed set and the old "Avengers" VHS tapes given to me by a church staff member last week. Carmen's office needs to be packed up, but I ain't touchin' that! There are a few more kitchen items to pack when we get closer to July, but first we have the incursion of sixteen friends and family members who are coming for the Ordination June 6th. That's the next big hoo-ha. Then Carmen goes to General Assembly in Minneapolis later in June, and will have another week in Albuquerque after she returns.

Meanwhile, there's still a lot to do for Albuquerque Little Theatre's production of "The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas" which will keep me busy busy busy until the end of this month. It opens May 28th. Y'all come!

A Momentous Decision

For weeks I've been thinking about it. Little by little I've been cutting back - I went from 57 to 43. All the hours I've spent reading stuff, looking at pictures and videos - and playing Scrabble! Holy Mackerel (it is Friday, after all.) Then there was all the discussion of information usage and privacy issues. And all the political stands and statements. I found I was more irritated than entertained. So this evening, April 30th, 2010 at 8:28pm MDT I deactivated my Facebook account.

It was a very good thing during the long siege scouring the internet job search wasteland, filling out online applications, doing assessment tests, emailing resumes and cover letters - and never hearing anything from anybody other than automated acknowledgements of receipt of said materiel. Facebook was a place I could go to hang out with friends. It was a great solace during those long days.

Now, however, I'm going to the theatre every day, leaving at 7:00am and returning home at around 6:00pm.There is some packing for the move that needs to happen. In about a month, people will begin to gather for that most momentous occasion, Carmen's Ordination (y'all come!) Moments after that's over, I'll be loading up the truck and driving my tools to Pennsylvania, where I already have more friends than I've made in New Mexico, looking for a job and finishing the house before the motherload arrives. As much as I'll miss my 43 Facebook friends, I won't have much time to dwell on it.

I think the big turning point came when I posted a picture of Snake Boy holding up his seven foot rattlesnake skin. I was expecting dozens of comments. There were three. Meanwhile, I was emailing it to my Facebook-free dad, and I decided to just go ahead and email it to the whole address book, many of whom are on FB. I got more comments from that mailing than from the FB crowd. "Hmmm," I said, "Why am I spending so much time there?" Ever since then I've been going back and forth between doing another friend purge, and simply purging my own damn self. Today I decided on the latter.

Peaceful Easy Feelin'

Carmen flew in right on time Monday. We hauled the really big suitcase and the new super giganto suitcase to the car, drove home and hauled them into the house. Carmen took a short nap, took a long post-11 hours in airports and airplanes shower, and we went to the church staff going away party for Ron, the Associate Minister here who might be going to the UU Church of Jacksonville, Florida. The party was at a small, dingy bowling alley on the east side.

The senior minister was there, and she was asking me about Meadville and the house we're buying. I gave her as complete an account as it is possible for me without writing it down. So the next day she said to Carmen that I seemed much more at ease than she's ever seen me. When confronted about this, I came to the conclusion that I am more at ease now that I know a) that we have a firm destination; b) where that destination is and c) approximately when we're going.

Of course the plan has changed several times this week, but the latest plan is that I will rent a small truck for the cats, my tools, my computer and some other stuff we don't trust the movers to move. I will leave in time to get to Meadville ten days after closing on the house, when the sellers are contracted to be out. I will assess the attic conversion project to ascertain what else is needed, buy stuff at Home Depot before returning the truck, and get to work. The goal will be to have the room ready for the honkin' heavy adjustable beds before the movers carry them off of the truck. As my old friend Mr. Charles Edward Channell would say, "It's gonna be close!"

The Life Of The Wife

Being the wife of Carmen M. Emerson is a good life. No matter what's going on, there's always something interesting and challenging to do. Of course, the latest and greatest challenge has been making public appearances with her, without embarrassing her. Colby Landers said it best. I told him we were going to Meadville to meet the whole congregation and to impress them favorably. "And she's taking you?!!!" he said.

They seemed to like me. For one thing, there's a large contingent of the congregation that is involved with the community theatre, and they are courting me big time. The Properties Team, that does repairs and maintenance for the church, has already signed me up. The choir is counting on another tenor. And of course, most importantly, I have a repertoire of "new" casseroles to introduce to their "6:59er" pot luck suppers.

Buying a house in Meadville - or anywhere else, for that matter, is a portion of pastry when the Rev. is a former real estate law firm receptionist turned secretary turned closing agent turned paralegal and office manager. She tells me what to pay, I pay it; she tells me to sign it, I sign it. Easy peasy Japaneasy. As a corollary, when we move into the house, she tells me what ceiling fan to install and where, I install it; she tells me what she wants in a built-in bookcase, I build it; she tells me what plants to plant and where, I plant them - you get the idea.

Now that the Meadville congregation has finally officially called her, now that we know that we're moving and where and when, it's all just a matter of getting the job done. Benny Van Buren sang it best: "Ain't nothin' to it but to do it." It's a good life.

Chestnut Street

Meadville, Pennsylvania was founded in 1766, after George Washington ran the French out of there. The UU Church of Meadville was established in 1825. Its new building, built in (I think) 1836, is on Chestnut street, right on "The Diamond," an oval-shaped town square. I guess about ten churches are clustered around The Diamond.

Up the road (and it's all uphill) is the house we have a contract on. Seven addresses listed in the church directory are on Chestnut, and we're not listed yet. The congregational meeting is this Sunday, the 18th, and they are voting on whether or not to call Rev. Carmen as their next settled minister. If things go as well for her the rest of the week, they'll call her for sure. Of course, we all know what a treasure she is. The only person who doesn't know is Carmen.

It's nice to be home, back in the cat juggling saddle again. And I now have a great new Rand McNally to write - tomorrow!

He's Dead, Jim!

We had a lovely Easter yesterday, beginning with the sunrise service at 6:45am. Carmen somehow - she doesn't remember how - got shanghaied into playing guitar during the service, and accompanying the singing of "Morning Has Broken," "Spirit of Life" and "This Little Light Of Mine" by the fifty-some congregants who came to watch the sun rise over the Sandia Mountains. Some yummy breakfast burritos were available for sale afterward, and then we set up for the two Family Services in the Social Hall. Moving tables and chairs around, that's what church is supposed to be all about.

All in all, there were six church services at the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque yesterday, which I think is a lot considering that most of the attendees do not believe that the dead guy became undead. I guess going to church on the first Sunday after the first full moon after the vernal equinox to celebrate a holiday that is all about bunnies, eggs and flowers - but has nothing whatsoever to do with fertility - is a habit we can't break. Anyway, diluting the 700+ members of the Albuquerque church by six services made each one manageable, unlike the SRO crowds we used to get in Orlando.

So we were there from 6:15am until 2:00pm. Carmen co-officiated the family services while the grown-up services were going on in the sanctuary at 9:30 and 11:00. I attended one of each, family and grown-up. The "Contemporary Service" (during which the band plays music from 40 to 50 years ago) had all three ministers and the Director of Religious Education involved. I took a contemporary nap.

We got to come home and relax for a couple of hours after church and before going to the house of Kathy, the chair of Carmen's Intern Committee, for a very yummy dinner with her Brady Bunch family.

The next entertainment was setting the GPS to guide us home, and realizing she still thought "home" was in Watertown, Massachusetts! Good thing we didn't just blindly follow her directions or we'd be in Arkansas by now.

Within Me, Without Me

As I write my "memoirs" of my life in show business, I feel as if it is actually over now. If I were already employed by a production company, I'm sure I'd have at least intermittent gigs, because I've been doing it since the eighties and know my stuff really well. Moving to Albuquerque in the depths of the worst economic crash in history was not a good career move unless the move was out of the career. I was the old man in the biz ten years ago. I'm still in Facebook contact with dozens of my coworkers in Massachusetts, and they have been working alternating weeks for a long time.

When I began to volunteer building scenery at Albuquerque Little Theatre, I saw my future in a man named Matthew. He's in his seventies, and volunteers one day a week when he's in town. At this moment he's in Sarasota, Florida being a snowbird. I expect him to return any week now, because it's getting ready to get unbearably hot down there. Anyway, he's a pretty good carpenter, but he's past the point where he could be a professional at it. Maybe it's not my future. Maybe I'm there.

I'm hoping to get started soon on the set for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, and I'm hoping Colby has money in his budget to pay me for it. With a week-long trip to Meadville, PA coming up in April and a move to Meadville coming up in June / July, job hunting here has become little more than a habit. I'm spending more psychic energy wondering what life will be like in northwestern Pennsylvania. I'm certainly not considering jobs that specify the use of my reliable vehicle; I skip over jobs requiring certifications, extensive training or union membership; college degrees are out of the question; and salesmanship is just out of my range of abilities. I still scour the advertisements, and even occasionally find something to apply for. But those eighty guys that also apply for everything I apply for are still there, most still much younger, most in much more need than I am. Truth be told, although our resources are dwindling, we do still have resources. I know that many of those eighty guys are in much worse straits than we are.

Meanwhile, I have my blogs to keep my mind busy. I've long wanted to write these stories of my fascinating life, but never had the time. More importantly, Carmen has long wanted me to write them. The fact that nobody else cares about them is an unpleasant truth, but onward I plunge. Life flows on within me and without me.

NEXT!

Transition time again. I was just next door at "The Business Of Show," writing about the end of the Vero Beach era, cross-fading into the beginning of the St. Cloud era. I was recalling the last show we worked on for the Vero Beach Theatre Guild, and how little I cared about it. We were in motion to move, and this show, Once More With Feeling, was just an obligation to check off the list before we left to begin our new lives together. Since then we've moved into three places in St. Cloud over nine years, one house in Orlando for another nine years, two places in Middlesex County, Massachusetts for four years and now in Albuquerque for nearly a year.

The beginning of this week was momentous. On Monday, the search committees for the three congregations with whom Carmen has been in pre-candidate status lo these many weeks all made their announcements that Carmen was their first choice. So she had to officially accept one and officially turn down two before she would clear me to make it public knowledge. Before she gave me the okay, she posted on Facebook that we are going to Meadville, in western Pennsylvania in April to meet the congregation and almost certainly get voted in as newly called minister and her wife. At last we have a destination.

Anyway, as I was writing about not really caring about the show in '87, I was not really caring about what I was writing. I wonder if it's the "short timer" mode kicking in, or whether I don't believe anybody gives a flying fig about "The Business of Show." As much as I've enjoyed writing it, I've been writing it primarily because my fan club said YES to another Jim Emerson series of ramblings. If nobody is reading it, I'm not writing it. I've got at least another thirteen years, most of it working as a professional set builder, to add to the seven years already posted. I may get fired up over it again, but right at this moment, I'm not that interested.

So I'm happy about Meadville. The salary is good and the cost of living is the lowest of the three. I don't know what the employment picture looks like there, but it can't be a whole lot worse than here. We will be there for a good long while, so maybe I'll have a place to set up a home shop - maybe get that sliding compound mitre saw I've been dreaming of... start designing, building and marketing some games and other wacky stuff.

Meanwhile, I might have some local employment at Albuquerque Little Theatre for as long as it takes to build a two-story set with a balcony and a curved grand staircase for The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas. I'm going down there tomorrow to clean the shop after the Plaza Suite strike, and to ascertain how things are going in the design and budgeting realms of the scene shop. I think I'll be in a good place emotionally for it. It's a short term gig, and I'm a short term guy.

The Conquering Geezer Returns

I went back to the hearing aid place this morning and got my aids adjusted. They're programmable, and, as a former sound technician (before the band blasted away my hearing) I knew the frequencies I was missing. I asked my hearing professional if she could bump up the upper mid range. She did, and it's a miracle! I can hear again! I'm heeeeeeeeeal-da! From there I went down to the medical supply place to get my three-month-old prescription filled for compression stockings for my deep vein thrombosis.

I went there yesterday, and they told me that they couldn't fill it because the scrip didn't include a diagnosis - they could fax it to the doctor, and maybe I'd be good to go in a couple of days. I looked at the paper, and the issuing entity was the UNM Anti-Coagulation Clinic, written by Ahn, my finger poker. I crossed the street and took the next number 11 west to UNM Hospital. I went to the clinic, gave the scrip to the guy at the desk, and within two minutes it had a diagnosis on it and I was on my way back. I gave it to a different person this time. She looked at my leg and said it was too swollen to measure, could I come back first thing in the morning? Well, first thing in the morning for them is 8:30 - I've been up and doing things for four hours by then. So she told me what to measure, and this morning, after feeding the ravenous beasts, I measured my damn self.

Wonder of wonders, this morning I handed them my prescription with diagnosis included, and my piece of paper with measurements on it, and within five minutes I was trying one on. It was great. It's still on.

Busing back toward home, I found myself at Montgomery and Eubank at 11:00, with fifty five minutes before the next bus to my neck of the desert. It just so happens that there's a Wendy's there, so I stepped inside. Evidently, 11:00 is Geezer Time at Wendy's. There was white hair and no hair scattered throughout the place, and canes and walkers everywhere. So I pulled up my support stocking, adjusted my trifocal glasses, turned up my hearing aids and walked my arthritis legs up to the counter on my orthotic arch supports.

11:00 at Wendy's: the Geezer Lunch. I'll have to remember that.

Snap, Crackle, Hiss

The Beatles are playing from my Media Player program. I've listened to pretty much everything in my Media Player music library, and until Thursday afternoon, thought that the sound coming from my speakers was clipped off at the upper frequencies. Thursday afternoon, new hearing aids installed, I was delighted to find that those upper frequencies had been magically restored. I did a Steely Dan festival that day.

Everything sounds weird after twenty five years of diminishing hearing is suddenly restored. Things have that top end hiss, that hard-edged crackle that I remember but haven't heard in many years. My shoes on the road, the traffic, the microwave, the cats' meow, the keyboard I'm typing on, my own voice - every sound is a little startling, but I'm getting used to it.

There have been a few times since we moved to Albuquerque that I have wished that our real stereo was unpacked and set up. Thursday through today, during the four hours a day I'm wearing my aids (a break-in period for my ears and brain) I've wondered how much better it will sound with my ears on. I guess I'll find out this summer in our new location.

Book 'Em!

Being a rolling stone and practically moss-free, it has been difficult to keep up with friends I've left behind - until Facebook. I now have Facebook friends I haven't seen in thirty years, twenty years, ten years, five years and one year. They are in Odenton and Baltimore, Maryland; Vero Beach, Orlando, St. Augustine, Jacksonville, and now Deland, Florida; Greater Boston, Warren and Lowell, Massachusetts; and Albuquerque, New Mexico. I even have a friend I've never met in New Jersey, a friend of a friend, who likes my blogs.

This rose to the surface of my consciousness because I recently got to thinking about my best buddy for nine years at F/X Scenery and Display. I looked him up on FB, but he wasn't there. No surprise. Then I got to comparing this situation with my best buddy from Mystic Scenic Studios for three years. A few months ago I friended his wife to stay in touch with him. And Colby Landers of Abq Little Theatre - I am FB friends with his wife. So I looked up Keith's wife, and sure enough found her. We messaged, and I sent her a friend request this morning. They're curious about how my life is going, and what more comprehensive way to tell them than to refer them to these blogs and update them along with everybody else on Facebook.

It's a pain in the ass and they make Scrabble more and more inconvenient every day, but I still love my Facebook. Over 500 million people do.

Up And Down, In And Out

Carmen is in Carlsbad this weekend. I have a Gospel of Rand McNally entry entitled "Holes In The West" that includes our second stop on the way to the Grand Canyon. I was disappointed when I saw that in order to go down 600 feet into Carlsbad Caverns, you have to drive up and up and up a 600 foot high hill. Why can't we just walk in at ground level? But that's neither here nor there. And speaking of there, Carmen is there this weekend, putting in a live ministerial appearance, instead of the satellite Carlsbad congregation's usual viewing of a DVD of Christine in Albuquerque.

So Friday I went to the theatre to use the shop tools (that don't cut square in either direction) to mill up the pieces I needed for a small (14" X 20" X 5" tall) platform for use by people shorter than Christine Robinson, senior minister at the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque. That includes nearly everybody else in the congregation, including Carmen. Of course, when the discussions at the church came around to the need for a functional yet decorative platform, whose name do you think came up as someone who could build such a thing? Let's see... someone who knows how to build functional yet decorative platforms... someone with time on his hands... someone who is married to someone who could greatly benefit from this technology...

The shop was filled with baseboard and crown molding for Plaza Suite, which opened Friday night. As a courtesy, I asked Colby if he needed any help. He put me to work on baseboard, all around the set. It took me about three hours to measure, cut and install it all. That is when I became acutely aware of just how out-of-true the tools in the shop are.

By the time I was done with baseboard and with cutting pieces for the platform, the crown molding was still in my way, and sloppy wet with paint. I took the platform pieces home, grabbing a Dion's Special pizza on the way. MMMMMM good pizza!

Yesterday I began assembly in the garage. Problem: the framing pieces were so out of square that they were unusable. The good news: they were all just a little long. I utilized my square, a board and a top-bearing router, squared everything, and assembled the frame. The beautiful outer sides covering the frame and the crappy edge of the plywood were much closer to the right size, but still not very square. The mitred corners needed a lot of sanding to fit together halfway decent. One piece is an eighth of an inch too long. I have never before wished so hard for a sliding compound mitre saw as I have since yesterday afternoon. It has not yet appeared.

So I guess I'm going back to the theatre to cut this last board. Luckily, Rudy's Bar B Que is directly on the way back!

Two hours later....

I'm back! Good Q! Board fits. Platform done. House vacuumed and mopped. Laundry done. Sheets changed. Carmen comes home late tonight. Life is good.

Weakly

So maybe that's what I ought to do - think of Cat Juggler as a weekly thing? It is uncomfortable to think about how much there was to write about six months ago and how little there is now. But, as Chance says in "Being There", "There will be growth in the spring." Maybe so.

On Tuesday afternoon I set out on an adventure, to find the Erna Fergusson Library on San Mateo and take the test for Census Enumerators. I walked the quarter mile to the bus stop, caught the 3:49 #2 bus to Montgomery, caught the 4:18 #5 and rode it to San Mateo. From there I walked another quarter mile or so. The test was scheduled for 5:45. I arrived at the library at 4:45. I went for a walk, looking for something to eat. I found Mexican food, of course, but I was dressed nicely and didn't want anything sloppy or too spicy. There was greasy fried chicken. I kept walking until I was worried about making it back in time, and gave it up. I would eat after the test. I caught a #140 bus that dropped me off directly in front of the library. I located the room just as Carmen called to ask if I was done yet.

My tester guy was impressed with several things about me: a) I was the first one there; b) I had already filled out my application and I-9 form online; c)I used my passport as my ID; d) I was the best dressed guy in the room, dressed better than he was; e) I scored a 95% on the test. If he thought I was a shoe-in, it was because he hadn't read my application where it asks if I have the use of a vehicle. The truth is I would for some of the time, but not all, and not predictably. It may not make a huge difference, but the information on the website www.2010censusjobs.gov said that exceptions might be made for people who have no vehicle. If this opportunity falls in the recent normal range, there will be plenty of qualified applicants for whom no exceptions will need to be made. I am still hopeful.

After it was over I turned my phone back on and called Carmen. It was after 7:00 and she was dubious about my plan to make it home by bussing and walking. The #2 doesn't run after 6:00 and the best I could manage was to walk home two miles from Wyoming Avenue. She offered to pick me up at Target at Montgomery and Wyoming. I checked the schedule - the next #5 was in 40 minutes. I set out walking. That is how I learned that it takes 45 minutes to walk from San Mateo to Wyoming on Montgomery. It was a tie.

For some reason, yesterday I got all motivated and posted two Rand McNallys. I even started the story of our two weeks and two days with two cats on the road from Massachusetts to Albuquerque. Once I finish that one, I guess my next will be our move from Albuquerque to wherever in July.

BLOGGER by Google offers (for a fee) to turn your blog into a book. Maybe after I write the Abq to Wherever story, I'll check that out. The Gospel of Rand McNally would be fun to have sitting on the coffee table. Cat Juggler - not so much.

Aging Well?

Yesterday afternoon I left the theatre at 2:00 so I could be early for my appointment at Sandia Hearing Aid Center to be tested and fitted for ...wait for it... hearing aids! I have resisted this for a long time, but I grew up with a hearing impaired mother and I know the signs of creeping deafness. I also know how and why: routers, drills, circular saws, table saws, grinders, planers, compressors, staple guns, forklift engines... and for seven years I rode motorcycles to work every day. Add this to my Bicentennial Cherry Bomb tinnitus, and there you have a recipe for hearing loss.

I called Tuesday for the appointment due to some persuasion from the other human resident of the household. That night I was watching Sherlock Holmes on PBS and could barely follow the thread of the story, my hearing was so bad. The time had come for sure.

The folks at Sandia assure me that in a week or so, when my new hearing aids are installed, I will be amazed at how clearly everyone around me is speaking. I can't wait - people have been mumbling at me for a long time, the bastards!

Prognostication

It was purt-near six months ago that I started this thang. I had a lot to say back then - Albuquerque was new to us, I had old cat stories and other stories to tell; I couldn't wait to get to my computer and spend a couple of hours regaling you with my witty and fascinating postings.

Nowadays, I can't think of anything interesting to say. The stuff I would write about, Carmen's search for a congregation to minister to, is top secret stuff. I've been reading packets from congregational search committees and discussing my reactions and observations with Carmen, and now she has already gone to visit one and this weekend she goes to visit another. Three more are lined up for phone interviews. Who? Where? Can't say.

I went to see Colby down at the Albuquerque Little Theatre on Friday. The show after Plaza Suite is "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas," which requires a two-story set and a grand staircase up to the second floor. These things I've done before. I don't know when we'll get started, but I will probably help him get the Plaza Suite set - just a few stock walls, doors, windows etc. - put up so the actors can rehearse with it, then start on Texas.

So what I'm saying is, erratic as my postings have been lately, I believe the future holds even less promise. I'm going to let go of worrying about keeping it current. When the news breaks about where we are going in the summer, I'll give you the whole story, I promise. Of course the move itself will fall under the purview of The Gospel of Rand McNally.

One bit of news: I had my blood tested today and for the second time in a row my anti-coagulant level was in the zone: 2.2 INR. That's a very good thing. I don't test again for three weeks. Woo hoo!

Hmmmmmm

It's snowing.

Groundhog Shadows

It's a beautiful sunny day here in the mile high desert. It's forty eight degrees at 4:30 and expected to get down in the mid-thirties tonight. After four years in New England, I can easily stand six more weeks of this winter.

Part of the ongoing entertainment here is listening to the dire predictions by the media - massive winter storm approaching - huge amounts of snow - stay off the highways - and when the massive storm has moved on through, the roads are clear in less than an hour without plowing or salt, there is a dusting of snow, and it's all melted and dry by the end of the day. The most snow I've seen has been about three quarters of an inch.

This is what we call tempting fate. Well, come on, Fate, let's see whatcha got! I'm here for one winter, and it's nearly over. I've heard stories about three feet of snow in Albuquerque a few years ago. I've waded through three feet of snow in Massachusetts on numerous occasions, shoveled it out of the driveway, climbed over the plowed-up mountains of it to get to bus stops. You can't scare me with your stinkin' groundhog!