One-Car Family

Carmen dropped me off at the hospital for my weekly blood test to see if my anti-coagulent level is within acceptable range. Last week it was at 2.9, just inside the 2-3 range. Today it tested at 5.5, "critically high!" so I have to skip a dose and cut back. I don't know how many more weekly blood tests there will have to be before they pronounce me stable. The whole treatment goes on for six months - until time to move again.

Carmen's co-workers were teasing her today because she left me waiting for a long time. My appointment was for 9:45 - she dropped me off at 8:00. The whole process was finished at 10:30 - she picked me up at 12:30. This is a consequence of being a one-car family in a transit-challenged town. Waiting is something I excel at, and I know not many humans do any more. I can keep myself entertained for hours and hours watching people, reading and organizing my ever-fattening folder of medical information, making notes on the notes from consultations with doctors, pharmacists, purveyors of portable oxygen etc. and keeping track of the time until the next Blessed Event - a Tylenol dose.

Being home is admittedly more comfortable than the waiting areas of the hospital, but for a guy like me who hates to turn on the TV unless The Price Is Right is on, home is much less entertaining.

How did I get to be an American? I don't want a car and I don't want a TV. Good thing I'm not a contestant on The Price Is Right!

Warm And (Mostly) Horizontal

Tomorrow it will be two weeks since my last posting. Whatever happened to my application with the spa people I'll never know. No word at all. I wonder how many of those 82 guys are left now.

Friday the 11th, after shoveling/scraping the last of the crusty half inch of snow from the driveway and sidewalk, which never enjoy sunshine during the winter, I set out walking the mile and a half to the nearest midday bus stop. Just about the time I exited the arroyo path and hit the sidewalk along Ventura, I began noticing my left calf muscle feeling tight, as if I were getting a charlie horse in one of my favorite charlie horse localities. I did what I always do: I ignored it.

I cleaned the shop at Albuquerque Little Theatre. It had been a mess since the strike of The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow on Halloween. What with everything there was to do for White Christmas, cleaning the shop never made it to the top of the priorities list. So I made a special trip. Colby wasn't there. I guess he appreciated it- I still haven't heard from him.

By the time I got home my leg was throbbing. Carmen told me I should go to the doctor, that she believed I had a blood clot. I smiled that little smile that says "fuck off" but in a nice way. When I sat in the recliner, my leg felt just fine- swollen to about twice its size, but not painful.

Saturday morning, in pain, I sat at my computer, played a Scrabble word, and checked my email. Lo and behold, there was one from the first exhibit guy I talked to back in July. He knew a guy who desperately needed help with some exhibit work. I called the guy, threw some tools in the car and took off for Corralles. I was able to do some of the work sitting with my leg up. For the rest I was in serious pain. Sunday I dropped Carmen at church and went back for more. By the time I got home Sunday afternoon, the only time the pain wasn't making me nauseous was in my recliner. And the one inviolable rule of the recliner: if Dad's in it, kitties pile on!

Monday morning my plan was to take Carmen to work and head for Corralles again. I got up to feed the kitties and nearly passed out from the pain. Change of plan. She hauled me to the Emergency Room, where they heard my story and took me right in. They thought I probably had a blood clot. Within an hour, Carmen's diagnosis was confirmed (damn it!) and I was admitted to a hospital for the first time since 1977. In 1977 they weren't sure whether the passing-out pain in my lung was an infection or a blood clot. They often tested my legs for clots, but found none. Keeping that experience in mind, last Tuesday evening I began to suspect that what had started as a tiny twinge in my right lung might be a migratory clot. They CT scanned me. It is. Oh, and just to be absolutely clear, officially these are "unprovoked clots."

I won't go into the personalities and relative competencies of my healthcare professionals. Some I really liked, some I REALLY didn't. Some stayed on top of the job. One completely forgot a time-sensitive medication, which I happened to wake up and notice a half hour after the scheduled time.

My doctor was Dr. Pierce- not Benjamin Franklin Pierce, but a good doctor even so. He saw me twice a day while I was incarcerated and we got on well.

By Friday my anti-coagulants were sufficiently settled that they let me come home, dragging my little bottle of oxygen with me. Since then I have been a warm and (mostly) horizontal cat bed in the recliner. Today is the first day Carmen is letting me use her oldest of three laptop computers. No kitties allowed on the computer!

Whew!

My hand still hurts from my job application today. If I get it - and who knows if all 82 guys in front of me have jobs yet (see "Another Defeat" from August 31 in this blog) - I'll be building hot tubs, spas and outdoor buildings like sheds and such. I looked at their stuff, and it looks interesting to build.

First I had to hand write the list of previous jobs covered so well in my resume, which they also have. Then I had to list FIVE personal references! I went with people whose numbers I have in my cell phone. AND THEN! I had to take a fifteen page test on vocabulary skills, number sequences, word scramble things, cryptograms, pattern recognition- all the stuff you need to be a good carpenter. Well, I'm pretty darn good at that stuff, so maybe those 82 guys will eat my dust - in which case it was a wonderful test. But my hand still hurts. Arthritis, you know. I'm old.

And speaking of old, I suddenly got in the mood to listen to the Gershwin on my Media Player music list. An American in Paris just finished, and Rhapsody in Blue just started. I love that stuff. I was reminiscing just the other day about the time back in the eighties when we went to the Tupperware Auditorium in Kissimmee to hear an evening of Gershwin, and the guest pianist couldn't play the Rhapsody worth a crap! What a disappointment that was. I'm betting the rest of the orchestra hated it even worse than I did.

Remus J. Lupin wanted his own Facebook page, so we tried to get him signed up. At first we put his real name and his real date of birth. Facebook locked us out for a day - evidently they don't cotton to six-year-olds on FB. Once they let us back in, we tried a different birth year, and that was fine but they wouldn't let the name Remus Lupin pass. So we tried Yin N Lupin, and they loved it. So now, in addition to everything else I do for those kids, I also have to share my computer with them. What the heck, they've been stealing my chair for months.

Anyhoo, Carmen is home from her three-day ministers' retreat, and will be home tomorrow and Saturday - two days in a row! It's been weeks since that happened. Maybe I'll paint the ox head tomorrow, if the weather warms up. Christmas eve is in two weeks, you know, and we don't need no stinking naked ox in the pageant. Not that I'm going, hell no.

Who'da Thunkit?

I now have four Facebook friends in Albuquerque, two of whom I never see, one of whom I see sporadically, and one is Carmen, whom I see a lot of, but not lately. She got home from San Francisco Sunday afternoon, after being gone since Wednesday afternoon. Yesterday she left at 8:30 and got home at 9:30pm. Today she left at 9:00 and will be at a retreat center until tomorrow sometime. She has a wedding to perform this Saturday and the church office holiday party Saturday night. The kitties and I miss her.

Speaking of those kitties, they haven't asked to go outside this whole month. They are content to bask in the sunshine on this side of the glass doors to the back patio. That's good, because I have to be out there with them, and baby it's cold outside! We had another big scary winter storm last night. It dumped about an inch and even covered the roads this time- until the sun came out. Now the driveways on the north side of houses all still have snow on them, and the ones in the sunshine are clear and dry.

I used my newly acquired computer prowess to create our first annual newsletter. It has to be proofed by Carmen when she has time, and then they have to be printed, inserted into some sort of snail mail technology, addressed, postaged and sent. Don't hold your breath.

So that's the news. Over on the other side of the blog wall there is a post named "Holes In the West." It's a long one. See? I'm trying to keep up with it.

Ministerial Ballbuster

Today is the big momemt we've all been waiting for. This afternoon Carmen stands before the Ministerial Fellowship Committee, delivers a ten minute sermon, and is harangued for a half hour about her fitness for ministry - as if there is a question about that! If (when) they give her a #1 rating, she can immediately begin her search for a settled ministry, and eventually we'll find out where we'll be moving in June.

One of my projects recently has been to put together photo montage pages for sections of her search packet. I have, during this blessed time of unemployment, learned a lot about my computer, including how to manipulate pictures and do other fancy things in Word. So that's ongoing.

December is a ballbuster month for ministers, as well as ministerial interns and ministerial intern spouses. Yesterday I finished up her music CD for her "Reliving The Christmas Event" service she's doing in a week or so, and cleaned up and updated the script sent us by Marni P. Harmony, formerly of Orlando. I also created a fancy CD label with a picture of our snow-dusted holly tree ghosted behind the music list. It's beautiful.

As soon as the weather warms up, I'll paint the ox head for Christmas Eve Service #1. We still have to decide on how we're accomplishing the body of same. The prevailing thought is to cover a couple of bean bag chairs with a hairy blanket that attaches to the head. It'll be wonderful, whatever we do.

Meanwhile, there is a possible wedding coming up and a memorial service, both paid projects for the intern, and we are going to see White Christmas on the 18th! January will be here before we know what hit us!

PS - We're Number One! We're Number One!!!!!!!!!!!!

As Professor Hinkle Would Say...

Busy busy busy! I went with Carmen to work this morning so I could drive home, load up my sneezy girl and haul her to the 9:30 vet appointment. Before leaving, I brought a cat carrier from the 40 degree garage into the house to warm up some. It rattled. Cats scattered. I was glad to let the hink factor settle down some before 9:00.

I also responded to the two mobile vets before departing, letting them know that we had made an appointment with a stationary vet during the twenty hours it took them to respond to my calls and emails. I guess I should have let them stew for a day or so, but I didn't.

ReLu was centered under the bed when I got home to get Yin. She was under the dresser, her little orange striped tail poking out in full view. I stroked it, and she ran out. She ran out of the bedroom so I closed that door. ReLu had full access to food, water and litter boxes from the bedroom. I opened the top lid to the carrier and left it in the hallway before going after my quarry. She was under a chair in the living room. I rousted her out of there and she ran to the hallway, smacking her little blind face into the carrier, then on to the bedroom door, which she also smacked. On her way back I grabbed her and stuffed her in. They don't call me a world class cat juggler for nothing.

The new vet was very nice and she fell in love with Yin- who wouldn't? She took the dreaded anal temperature. It was normal, so no infections. She pumped some flluid into my 5.25 pound girl, installed a topical mite killer on her back, and reintroduced Yin to an old "friend," Neopolydex eye drops, with which we had tortured her for five years of her life in Orlando. All in all, it was a good vet visit (my opinion, not Yin's) and I hauled her home to recuperate in her fleece bed- where she resides at this moment.

I pounded down some breakfast and lit out for the church once again, to bring home my other girl so she could pack for San Francisco. Two hours of rushing around ensued before we loaded the car and headed to the airport by way of our favorite Albuquerque restaurant, Zea's, where we had a nice liesurely late lunch. Then on to the airport to check in, check a bag, and hang out together people watching until Carmen felt it was time to do that Security thing and head for the gate. Then I drove home, arriving about 6:00. I have been checking the US Airways Flight Status page. Everything has been on time so far, so she should be on her connecting flight in Phoenix awaiting departure at 9:14.

Other than that, not much going on today.

Sneezy

Despite phone messages and emails to several mobile vets, I have not heard anything from them. I understand that procrastination is a New Mexico thing. It wouldn't fly in Boston, but we're not in Boston any more. But we now have an appointment for tomorrow morning at a stationary vet nearby.

My little blind girl has been sneezing recently. Years ago she had an upper respiratory infection that kept her from eating- they won't eat what they can't smell. She's still eating fine, but we're hoping to avoid a crisis situation, especially since the big MFC interview is this week, and we're trying to avoid crises on all fronts until that hurdle is cleared. Meanwhile, Miss Yinny Yin Yin is sleeping comfortably in her fleece cat bed, completely unaware of the flurry of anxiety raging on around her.

We decided to try a veterinary house call due to our current status as a one-car family, plus her long history of frequent visits to the vet. Two weeks after we rescued Yin and Yang, dumped by a breeder at four weeks old, our vet bought a new Lexus. Coincidence?

Yin used to have itchy skin. Sometimes she would make herself bleed from pulling out her hair. One time I called the vet to ask about treatment. He said, "Can you bring her in right now?" I said "Sure!" and hung up the phone. I looked where she had been two seconds ago, and she was gone! I searched the whole house. I looked in all of her best hiding places- in the tub, between the shower curtains, under the bed, behind the sectional sofa, under the recliner, in the kitchen cabinets, behind the washer and dryer- to no avail. After a half hour of searching I stopped to think about where she might be. The only place I could think of that I hadn't looked was in the three-inch gap between the kitchen wall and the back of the refrigerator- but she couldn't even fit in there, could she? I got the flashlight and looked. There she was, crammed in the far corner. I closed every door in the house and slowly rolled out the fridge. It was forty five minutes after my phone call before I ran to the vet, carrier in hand.

She's a wily one, that blind girl. And how did she know I was talking to the vet? Did she hear and recognize his voice? I'll never know. Nowadays she hasn't been to a vet in almost a year. She's still hinky about being picked up or even being approached. She'll come to us if we're sitting or lying down, but we can't walk toward her without triggering the vet alarm. And if she hears the cat carrier rattle, forget about it! And I'm sur she has all of her new hiding places mapped out in her cute little head. Tomorrow will be interesting.

The Season

I went another round with the job search machinery. It's a desert out there. And it's not even a pretty New Mexico kind of day. It's cold and windy, with dark clouds that threaten rain and/or snow. The news people have been trying to scare us with a severe winter storm warning for days now. If I hadn't lived in Florida with hurricane warnings every other minute from June through November, I might have been scared. Plus, the last big scary winter storm that blew through here dumped almost an inch of snow on us. After four years in Massachusetts, anything less than eighteen inches is a flurry.

So White Christmas opened Friday night at Albuquerque Little Theatre. I got my (tiny) check and my six comp tickets Friday afternoon. I wish I hadn't picked up a program while I was there and seen that my name was never mentioned for building almost the entire show. My Facebook friends are outraged over that oversight. I must admit I'm disappointed. I was going to mail it to my parents. The review, out today in the Abq Journal, is very complimentary about the show, but never mentions the sets. They seldom do, I suppose, unless the sets are the best thing about the show. We'll be seeing it in a few weeks, after the dreaded MFC interview, coming up this Friday.

Carmen flies to San Francisco this week so she can stand before the Ministerial Fellowship Committee and be grilled about her fitness for ministry. This is a big fat hairy hurdle, one she's been preparing for for several years. If (when) she passes that test, she can begin earnestly searching for a congregation that is searching for a minister. The Unitarian Universalist Association has a whole online system in place for that process. How did they used to do it? On horseback?

I have the last of the music in hand for Carmen's "Reliving The Christmas Event" service. That I can wrap in a few minutes. More problematic is the ox for the Christmas play. I promised that the head would pivot back and forth. Now I have to figure out how to make that work. BUT- I have more time now that I don't have any sets to build. Assuming I don't suddenly get a job out of nowhere- because nowhere is where the jobs all seem to be at this time.

The good news for you five- I'll be writing much more often in the weeks ahead. "Dial M For Murder" is the next show at ALT, and it ain't no White Christmas.

Thanksgiving 2009

I'm thankful for many things today. First and foremost, the cats are fed, the litter boxes are scooped and the kitchen is clean, including a freshly clean load in the dishwasher. Second and fivemost, Carmen is cooking her famous honey-mint carrots to take to somebody else's house for dinner. Who knew she had a famous dish in her tiny cooking repertoire?

Four years ago I heard an advertisement on the radio for a live theatrical production of Irving Berlin's White Christmas at the Wang Theatre in Boston. We bought tickets for the Christmas Eve performance. I had some trepidation about it. I was sure they would have rewritten the movie (which has been on our Favorite Christmas Movies List for over twenty years) to adapt it to the stage. Would they ruin it? Our favorite moment is when Phil and Judy dance their way out into the Florida sunset for "The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing." That had better be good! And there were some awkward things in the movie that I would have deleted if it were me rewriting the script. We went and were blown away. The basic story is the same, but the awkward stuff WAS deleted, the story details are better than the movie, the production numbers were spectacular, and it was better than my wildest hopes.

So Bob and Phil go to Jimmy's Back Room to see the Haines Sisters. The set is small and intimate, in the center of the stage way down front. After the "Sisters" number, all four sit at a table and talk for a few minutes, then Phil and Judy get up to dance. As soon as they're off the set, it splits in two and leaves the stage to both sides, leaving the stage empty with a sparkling star drape across the back and sides. Fog blows in, and there they are, Phil and Judy, with the whole stage a dream world where the best things can happen while they're dancing. Then, at the end of a beautiful and exciting dance routine, they dance their way front and center, the set moves back into place, and they sit down again with Bob and Betty. Double you oh double you!

The next day after we saw it (some folks would call it Christmas Day) I was online ordering a ticket in the balcony for New Year's Eve. I had a big head in front of me the first time around, and missed some scenery changes. It came to pass, however, that I couldn't make it that night, the closing night of the show.

Two years ago I heard an advertisement on the radio that White Christmas was coming back. We got four seats in the balcony and went with our friends Misty Dawn and Jenna. I was able to see everything, and during the two years in between, I had worked on a couple of Show Motion projects with automated scenery technology, so I even knew the mechanics of all of the magic onstage. This knowledge would spoil the effect for some (including Carmen) but it just gets me excited to know that I am capable of creating that same magic.

So now we fast forward to October, 2009. I walk into the scene shop at Albuquerque Little Theatre. Colby Landers, the Technical Director, is cautiously hopeful about my coming. Once Sleepy Hollow is staged, he has to build eleven sets for Irving Berlin's White Christmas, and here I am, a huge fan of the show and a professional scenic carpenter unemployed in Albuquerque.

It's almost enough to make me think there might be a god.

NAAAAAAAAH.

But it does make me thankful that all these insignificant elements of the universe found their way to this happy union. And tomorrow I can pick up my check. For that I'm very thankful.

That's What I Get...

So last week the construction was finished for White Christmas. Since then I've worked all day Thursday, all day Friday and all day today on- you guessed it- White Christmas. I'm going back tomorrow, too. What there was to do was stuff I didn't know about, like trim all the way around the exteriors of the flats on the pivoting platforms, wainscotting on the interiors of the flats on the pivoting platforms, changing out the casters for bigger, locking casters on the tap-dance piano, shoring up the supports under the tap-dance piano, fixing a chair the actors broke in rehearsal, fixing a table that broke in rehearsal, installing mini blinds on all six train windows, cutting down a too-big existing flat for the roll-aside barn door, building a hang-like-a-picture window frame, you know, little things. Oh, and getting my paperwork squared away for my 400 bucks Colby is paying me out of his production budget. That's a biggie.

My other Christmas projects, the ox head and the music for Carmen's "Reliving The Christmas Event" service were moved ahead over the weekend. A week ago, while I was enjoying my two-day vacation from the theatre, I cut plywood to the shape of the top view of the ox head and shaped chicken wire (oh excuse me, Poultry Netting) into the head, horns and ears. Saturday and Sunday I covered it with plaster cloth. Then I took Carmen's "Reliving..." script, graciously provided by Marni P. Harmony, and sought out all of the music specified for it. Some we had in stock. The rest I ordered by MP3 download, from Amazon. Before she got home from her afternoon church event, I had a CD ready to plug and play with all but one piece of music, which is not available by MP3 download- I ordered the CD.

Add in my cooking, cleaning, scooping, cat juggling, grocery shopping and Star Trek watching, and it's no wonder I haven't blogged in a week!

Broken Covenant

As you five well know, if I'm home during the day, all the mammals in the house get to go outside for a spell- sometimes several times a day. Today I crammed three big bags full of leaves from the back yard. Add that to the two yesterday from the front. Anyway, it took about three hours to carefully rake leaves from the gravel parts and sweep and cram and tie and set out front to take to Colby (mulch boy) in the car next time it goes to the theatre.

Little Miss Yinny Yin Yin didn't much like the sound of the rake or of the cramming of leaves into bags, so she didn't spend much time out there. Professor Remus J. Lupin, on the other hand, was pretty much out there the whole time. He spent a lot of time along the side of the house, gazing longingly at the gate. Gazing is allowed.

I glanced down there periodically to see where he was and what he was doing. The last time I looked he was sitting up on the four foot high adobe column that the gate attaches to, gazing longingly at the street. I didn't want to go get him, lest he jump down on the other side to elude capture, and maybe run out into the street. So I went back in the house, propped open the front screen door, and came at him from the front. He hissed at me as I approached. I grabbed his ass and lugged him inside, while he writhed and struggled against me. Me, a World Class Cat Juggler! Needless to say, he wasn't allowed out any more. He's mad at me now, and sleeping in my desk chair. Boo freakin' hoo.

Endings

Tomorrow, after I visit my financial planner to work out the last piece of my new IRA that combines what's left of my savings from 401Ks from Image International (1988-1994), F/X Scenery and Display (1996-2005) and Mystic Scenic Studios (2005-2009) into one account, I'm going to Abq Little Theatre to finish up the last of the construction of the quick-change set pieces for "Irving Berlin's White Christmas." I may go back to add details like plugs for the switchboard and attachment technology for the ski lodge front porch- stuff like that. Painting will be done mostly by student interns (if they show up- they sort of have trouble in that area,) and Colby is still thinking about seat cushions and table transportation methods.

I poured on the steam this month, even working two full Saturdays, because the cast needs the pieces to rehearse with, and the scene shift crew needs to practice the fifteen fast and fluid scene changes. The show opens a week from Friday and runs through Christmas Eve. I will be paid in comp tickets to the show. I hope it's REALLY good.

"Dial M For Murder" is the next show, and I'm invited to work on it, but I'm taking some time off. The White Christmas set pieces not onstage will be stored in the shop, so there will be little room to work anyway. And I'm still hopeful that I'll get a job soon. Hope springs eternal.

Meanwhile, I've applied to six jobs this weekend and kept up with cat feeding, scooping and cooking for us humans. I have sadly neglected my blog, and the trees around the house have dropped a buttload of leaves which I'll be cleaning up this week. It snowed overnight last night, so they're wet and frozen at this time. They'll be warm and dry by Tuesday, I'm sure.

The kitties are missing their outside time, although I did let them out this morning. It was 42 degrees, so they scampered back inside pretty quickly. They'll be happy to have me home during the days again. And I'll get to watch The Price Is Right!

As much as I have enjoyed building nearly all the pieces for White Christmas, I'm glad to be done with it. Seeing them in action will be the best reward.

Time

Carmen and I went to the little desert town of Edgewood Sunday. The tiny congregation there meets in a yarn shop owned by one of the members. It's a satellite congregation of the Albuquerque church, and they usually just watch the sermons from First Church on DVD and discuss them. This week they got a live in person intern. Nine people were there to hear it, including me.

The title of the sermon was "A Fulcrum of Time." The crux of the message, for me anyway, was that we must change time into life. It started out with a comment on our times here and now, including the fact that her husband has been unemployed for five months. That's me! She quoted William Ellery Channing, Henry David Thoreau and others who advocated self-culture, improving ourselves for the ultimate improvement of the world.

The congregation passed around a "talking stick," and when it was passed to her unemployed husband, I went on at some length about the wonderful things I've been able to do with my windfall of time- and I didn't even mention my ongoing Scrabble games on Facebook or my ability to watch The Price Is Right.

Three things are paramount: I'm volunteering in a real theatre for the first time since the 80s, I'm writing more than I have ever written in my life, and I'm walking more than I have since I left Vero Beach in 1987. All of this is a treasure for me. I'll be glad to finally get a paying job again, but I'll always look back on this time as a precious gift. Sure, I've been sadly neglecting my blogging lately, but the scenic work I'm doing is just as important to me. And when I finally get to see my work as part of a highly entertaining show, it will be a watershed moment, comparable to seeing my news sets on TV.

Walking has always been a spiritual practice for me, time away from everything that distracts my train of thought. I went to the bank and the grocery store this afternoon. A forty minute walk to the bank, ten minutes to the store and thirty five minutes back home. An hour and a half on the road, off the leash. It was wonderful. Of course nowadays, my cell phone leash is with me, but it never rang.

But now, Remus tells me, it's time to feed kitties. And this time it really is time.

Chug-A-Chug-A Motion

So Monday I arrived at Albuquerque Little Theatre ready to finish my cabinet for the switchboard, and whatever else happened along. Colby came at (about) 8:30 and told me he was going for plywood as soon as he could get away, and if I finished what I was doing on the switchboard before he got back, I should bolt together the four four by eight platforms on stage into two eight by eight. Then I would be putting straight (non-swivel) casters on the bottom side such that the platforms would pivot. Then I would flip them over and put another layer of plywood across them to solidify them big time.

All of this came to pass. The HMMMM moment came in mid-afternoon when I had lag bolted all twenty four casters to the bottom, each at ninety degrees to the line from the wheel to the pivot point. I told Colby I was ready to flip. He looked at my casters and said, "Is that gonna roll?" I told him it's the way I'd always done it. So we flipped one and it pivoted like gangbusters. Hey, I been doin' this a long time.

Tuesday I finally started on the train set. It's three benches with windows behind them and a luggage rack overhead, which clamp together in an eighteen foot long bench. Each has straight casters running forward so that when the scene comes up, they can be rolled downstage as the lights are coming up. Today I finished the construction, clamped them together, and everybody liked it. Yay. I went home early in celebration.

On the way I stopped into the Home Depot to investigate chicken wire. Rev. Robinson at First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque asked Carmen to ask me about creating a talking ox and I just wanted to see what was available and for how much before I proposed my plan. Well damn it, my plan was dashed. There on the floor below the rack of pristine rolls of wire was a beat up, dirty, squished one for half price. I bought it, because you never know when old gnarly roll of chicken wire will come in handy, ox or no ox.

So now you're up to date at last. Boy this working thing (paid or not) sure cuts into my blogging time.

The Biz

I read my previous postings and had to laugh. I've worked in show business for twenty two years, and still I have the temerity to try to predict what will be going on tomorrow. I went to the theatre Friday ready to finish my 12 foot jacks for the barn wall and start on either the barn or the train. Of course I did neither. There is a lot of business with a telephone switchboard at the ski lodge, so Colby and I dug out an old TV cabinet, disemboweled it, mounted a switchy thing on it, built a cabinet around the switchy thing, and voila! a switchboard. It's magic!

The big news is that last night I went for the strike of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. An hour and a half of unscrewing and unbolting later, the stage was clear. Now we can stand up the barn walls, hang a traveler track for the cyc, and mount the pivoting set platforms.

Also in the news: Colby's purchasing account has been replenished, so he can buy plywood for the train car set and other needs. Things are poised for action. Now if he can only convince the Board of Directors to pay me for the run of the show, we'll be all set, because if I happen to get a job (I'm applying for two of them as soon as I finish this) he'll be hard pressed to get it all done for opening November 27th.

The one thing I know is that I don't know anything, and that's plenty.

Suddenly Winter

It was pouring rain when I left the house for the theatre yesterday morning at 7:00. I trotted out two pieces of technology unused since my public transit commutes in Boston: my Red Wing waterproof boots and my desert camouflage poncho. When I bought the poncho four years ago, I laughed at the desert camo. "This is for all those desert rain storms," I said. Well, yesterday I would have been invisible in the Albuquerque landscape.

The number two bus was right on time as usual, and I played my hand-held Free Cell game as usual on my way down Ventura, east on Academy and south on Eubank. Long about Interstate 40, I looked up from my game and thought I saw a snowflake hit the bus windshield. I kept watching, and soon there were nothing but big fat flakes everywhere. I called Carmen. "Is it snowing there?" No, it wasn't.

I got off at Central Avenue (Historic Route 66) in a blizzard. I put my poncho back on and made my way to the bus stop for the next bus (route 66) and by the time I got to downtown, the snow was rain again. The only visible sign of all that snow is the picturesque dusting of the Sandia Mountains that line the eastern border of Albuquerque.

It's 34 degrees at this time. The kitties have not asked to go outside this morning.

I Love A Piano

One of the big production numbers in Irving Berlin's White Christmas is "I Love A Piano." When we saw it (twice) in Boston, the set changed three times during that song and dance extravaganza. Colby at Albuquerque Little Theatre is hoping to maybe change it once,

Today we finally finally were able to get started on White Christmas. My project today was to modify three pianos. The little prop piano will have kids dancing on it, so I added four more legs to it to keep it from flipping over when they dance. The baby grand is an old real piano that will have adults dancing on it. I added some structure under the lid and attached it to the heavy duty dolly. The console piano will be used in the rehearsal scenes. I changed its straight casters to swivel casters.

If the plan holds, Wednesday I'll either be building the three-section railroad car that will roll on and off stage, or the back wall of the barn with the sliding doors.

I love real theatre. It's good to be back.

What's The Buzz

I don't believe I've mentioned yet that we live next door to The Snake Man of Albuquerque. His license plate says "Slither" He's been telling me for months about his rattlesnake-hunting expeditions, and about the feature story about him upcoming in New Mexico magazine, but until a week ago, I had never seen any evidence. Monday night he came home after a weekend jaunt, and called me over. He unloaded a tall wooden box out of the back of his SUV. It hit the driveway with a thud, and the box began buzzing.

He carried it into his garage, right up to the chest freezer, which he opened. There were a bunch of plastic "burlap" bags in there, which he said were all frozen rattlesnakes, all still alive, and a plastic 5-gallon bucket with a four-inch hole in the center of the lid. Dave opened the end of the wooden box and thrust his snake-catching stick with a loop on the end into the box. He snatched the loop tight and pulled up a five-foot rattler by the neck. It was writhing, rattling and biting the stick all the way to the bucket. After many tries, Snake Man finally fed the tail end into the bucket, which he said they couldn't escape from, and dropped the rest of the snake in. He repeated the process for two more future snakecicles. The fourth one wriggled enough to pop the lid off of the bucket! Dave looked in and saw that one of the first three had gotten out of the bucket and was trying to escape the freezer. He slammed the lid down on his stick, let loose of the fourth snake and snaked the stick out before any could escape the freezer. He smiled and said, "I guess the lid wasn't on very good." I guess not!

At least now I know that the Snake Man of Albuquerque is on top of things next door.

The Furnace Man Cometh

Carmen and I were at a small dinner party last night at a fancy dancy house up in the foothills of the Sandia Mountains. Just before everyone arrived, our host dropped a six-pack of beer in the garage, and was in the process of cleaning it up when we arrived. This reminded me of a classic Emerson moment from January of 1968 in Odenton, Maryland.

My dad had a tooth pulled on this bitter cold Saturday morning. The dentist stuffed his mouth with gauze and sent him home. Our furnace was on the fritz, so we built a fire in the fireplace in the basement, and my dad was lying on the couch recovering in front of the fire. I was also in the basement, playing with my new birthday present, a road race set.

The furnace man was coming sometime around noon, so my mother went to the grocery store right after bringing home the tooth-pullee. They liked to watch Saturday Night At The Movies with a tall glass of Squirt spiked with gin to drink, and they were out of gin, so she also went to the liquor store. She came home and carried in the groceries through the basement and up the stairs to the kitchen- only the handrail snagged the paper bag, ripped it, the gin bottle fell out and shattered all over the basement floor.

Princess, my big ol' German Shepherd dog had two pet peeves: people who came in trucks, and the ringing of the door bell. So when the furnace man came, he racked up two strikes with the dog. Princess was already growling and barking when the door bell rang, and she ran to the front door to refine her warning. My dad bellowed, "Get the dog! Get the dog!"

I ran up the stairs in my socks. Oh yeah, did I mention that my mother had just waxed the floor at the top of the stairs? So I hit the wax, fell and slid across the short stretch of floor until I was stopped by my shin bashing against the corner of a doorway wall. "Waaaaaaaaaaahhh," I screamed in severe pain. (I still have a crease in my shin bone at that impact point.) Dad was still yelling "Get the dog! Get the dog!" with a big wad of gauze in his mouth. I grabbed Princess' collar and opened the door.

I wish I had had a camera handy to capture the look on the furnace man's face. Here was this teen-aged boy, limping and howling in pain, barely restraining a big German Shepherd that was barking and growling and straining to get at him, my dad bellowing unintelligibly from the basement, and the house reeking of gin. He ran in, dashed down to the furnace, also in the basement, fixed it in no time flat, and got out of there as fast as his legs could carry him. We would love to have heard what he told his wife when he got home.

Shopping Tips

Yin didn't finish her scoop of canned food last night, which was a good thing because what she left in her dish was all the Yin food I had left in the house. This morning I served up that last bite before I got ready to finally walk to the grocery store after rainy weather kept me home for two days. My list had grown so long during those two days, I knew I had to fire up the Old Lady Grocery Cart for the first time in Albuquerque.

One good thing about all that rain: the path beside my shortcut arroyo (a New Mexico thing- it's a paved drainage ditch that can contain flash floods through the city) that leads to the main road would have most of the dog turd land mines washed away. They're not a problem for walking, I can watch my step and be okay. But Old Betsy's wheels would be more problematic, as the path is narrow and the mines are usually along the edges.

I took my Old Lady Cart to the store many times in Massachusetts, along paved pathways and sidewalks all the way to the store. The biggest problem was that smaller items, such as cat food cans- did I mention I was out of canned cat food?- would fall out of the cart while shopping unless I loaded stuff into my reusable bags at the bottom of the cart. I'd been cogitating about this disasterous consequence these couple of days, and came up with a brilliant solution. Do you know those big, wide blue bags you can get from Ikea? Well, it just so happens that we have a couple of those. I lined the bottom of OLGC with one, and it fit perfectly! I tied the handles to the cart to keep it from collapsing, loaded my reusable bags inside and was off!

While the land mine situation had indeed improved since my last trip along the arroyo, there was another intermittent problem I'd never encountered in Albuquerque: mud! Usually any water that hits the ground dries the instant the sun comes out- but the sun hadn't come out yet at 7:30 this cloudy morning. But we persevered and made it to the store, my Old Lady Cart and I.

Starting with canned food and other structurally secure items, I filled my Ikea bag to the brim, topping it off with produce, eggs and a loaf of bread. I got to the checkout, and thought, "Hey, maybe I can just lift that sucker out of there and unload the cart in one swift fluid motion." This is what is referred to in literature as a best-laid plan. It was a motion, well, a series of herky jerky motions, accompanied by a lot of grunting, not a little cursing, and the little woman behind me in line trying to hold onto the OLC, which was flopping around like a big, ungainly rattletrap fish. I did get the bag out, though, and set it on the belt, a satisfied smile on my beet-red face.

The trip back was the same as the trip out, with the addition of fifty pounds of groceries in the cart. It sank in the mud once, and grazed a freshly supplied land mine, but we're home now, groceries are put away, Cat Juggler is almost posted. It's time to invent a South Beach Diet friendly pumpkin goo dessert! Life is never boring for a minister's wife!

With Apologies

I have been having so much fun writing about my adventures on the road in The Gospel of Rand McNally, I fear I have been neglecting my huge fan base for Cat Juggler. The sad truth is that there has not been much to write about in my life recently. We all know that Carmen did her first full Sunday flying solo a few days ago, and that she did a great job. Monday I finally got Yin on video rolling in the sunshine. Yesterday's big project was gutting, peeling, cooking and pureeing a pumpkin for some yummy South Beach Diet friendly desserts yet to come, with toasted pumpkin seeds as a by-product. I was going to walk to the grocery store for a long list of stuff for the dessert and for the rest of our nutritional needs, but a huge storm blew up and ruined that plan. Today it's chilly and rainy- rare in New Mexico- and my primary function (I've already fed the kitties and scooped the litter box) is waiting for Colby to call from Albuquerque Little Theatre to tell me he's ready to begin in earnest building for White Christmas.

The kitties heard me open the back door this morning and came running as usual, but when they discovered the state of the weather outside, they high-tailed it back inside. We're all hoping for clearing skies and a return of that sunshine to which we've become accustomed. I have four pounds of pumpkin goo waiting for sweet transformation. And I'm out of peanut butter! We got trouble right here in the Land of Enchantment.

Some of my favorite moments await me at the blog next door, The Gospel Of Rand McNally, and I'm itching to get back to it. Once Colby calls, my huge raft of free time will slip out from under me. Much as I am ready to get to work at a paying job, this blogging thing has busted loose a logjam of words that are aching to be typed!

Caught In the Act!

Rolling Rolling 2

My girl was outside today, and I was able to get to the camera in time to catch her in the act of rolling around in the sunshine! It only took three weeks for her to get comfortable enough outside to roll and for me to have the camera handy enough to catch it!

A Glimmer

As some of you know, I have been volunteering at Albuquerque Little Theatre these past few weeks. Yesterday I was hoping to start on the next show, "Irving Berlin's White Christmas" but Colby hasn't yet had his designs approved by the powers that be. There are eleven sets for this show, in a theatre that has no fly capability, almost no wing space, and a very small stage. Any set not in use has to roll out the back into the shop. A big job, and four weeks to get it all ready.

So yesterday I was going down the punch list for "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow," which opens on the 23rd and runs through Hallowe'en weekend. I shored up weak areas of the big 24' X 7' ramp which I built and Colby installed onstage. I built some small platforms on the backside of the big tree on the set so actors can stand behind it and act from the treetop. I built a mirror on a stand for Icabod to do a routine with. I was done at about 3:00, and waited in line to talk to Colby.

When everyone else had scattered to do their thing, I asked Colby what our next move might be. He said, "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but...you know White Christmas is a hell of a lot of work. I'm submitting a contract to the Board to hire you on just for this show, because it needs to be a real nice job, and I can't do it by myself if you get a job or for whatever reason can't volunteer enough hours to get it all done. If they approve it." I smiled and said, "I won't hold you to it. And thank you." Woo hoo! Somebody wants me to build scenery in Albuquerque!

Rolling Rolling

My little blind girl was siezed with the compulsion to roll around on a sun-baked area of our back patio yesterday. She flopped down on her side and rolled over on her back, feet flailing in the air in her first moment of total relaxation outside. It was heartwarming to watch her be comfortable and joyful outside for the first time in her life.

Tuesday afternoon she heard a little butterfly (or was it a moth?) flying nearby, reared up on her hind legs and swatted in the direction of the sound. The insect landed on a flower and she lost track of it, but swatted a few more times in the direction of the last place she heard it. It was very very cute.

On both of these occasions I was camera-free, or there would be pictures posted over there. I guess I'll just have to start taking a camera with me every time we go outside.

Infection

The cat juggler in me won't let this moment pass without mentioning that our little blind girl, Yin, now comes running when she hears the back door opening. She still hasn't relaxed out there on the back patio, but she hurries out the door and wanders for a long time where a couple of weeks ago she feared to tread.She has the heart of a lion.

The infection mentioned in the title is, of course, in the computer I depend on for email, job hunting, Facebooking and blogging. It reared its ugly head early Friday morning when I first fired 'er up. The worst one called itself Windows Police Pro Anti Virus. It attached itself to Internet Explorer, stopped me from going online "until I paid for the service" which involved my credit card info. If I weren't so hinky about credit card transactions on the internet- indeed if I weren't suspicious of everything on the Internet- if I were naive, in other words, I might have been bullied into complying. So I tried to delete it with the Control Panel, but guess what- the Control Panel was completely disabled as well.

Luckily, Carmen had just purchased a copy of Norton 360, which I loaded on Saturday evening after the Balloons Flailing In The Wind show. First it uninstalled AVAST!, which had done nothing about the infection after repeated attempts to root it out. Then it scanned out and fixed FOUR viral problems. Saturday night I was back online and able to load my balloon pix onto Facebook, play a word in my Scrabble game with Cyndie, check my email, post the previous Cat Juggler story, and finish the London story on thegospelofrandmcnally blog. I shut down, then on Sunday morning fired up again, only to find EVERYTHING disabled including Norton. I read my Norton booklet this morning, looking for a phone number for support. I was told that I could get my phone number from their website. Aaaaaaaaaaaugh!!!

What fixed it (for now, anyway) was to start the computer with the Norton disc in the drive and reboot starting with the Norton disc. After I did, it reported another virus caught- another virus in Anti Virus clothing. So for now I'm back in business.

No wonder my dad hates his computer. One of my pet peeves (there are so many!) is a tool that makes your work fast and easy, malfunctioning so that all of your time and energy is taken up trying to make the tool do anything useful. Technology. Whatever happened to stone knives and bear skins?

Fun In Albuquerque

Our friend Karen from Orlando arrived yesterday. We picked her up at the airport, had a very late lunch at one of the hundreds of Mexican restaurants and came home. The Sandia Mountains lit up bright pink at sunset while the women were out for a walk. Afterward the prudent thing to do was to go to bed early in preparation for our 4:30 wake-up call for the Balloon Fiesta.

The Park-And-Ride lot was less than a mile away. We arrived there at 5:30, boarded a school bus and headed for Fiesta Park. First order of business: Carmen was told by locals to be sure and have a Breakfast Burrito. She and Karen have an amendment to that rule: DON'T have a Breakfast Burrito. Second: buy blankets and gloves at the Walgreen's tent. It was COLD!

A bunch of balloons were inflating as we arrived in time for the Morning Glow. As soon as they were standing ready to launch, the Master of Ceremonies (who could talk nonstop about balloons for hours at a stretch- we can vouch for that) called for an "all burn," and all the balloons lit up with a burst of flame. Then M.C. Yammer called for a "flicker burn." They all did short blasts to light each balloon for a second per blast. This went on for a while as balloon after balloon rose into the still-dark sky and did bright burns on command until they had drifted far away.

Meanwhile, many hundreds more balloons were being inflated. By the time the sun came over the Sandia Mountains, the sky was packed with bright colors. The Darth Vader balloon went up to loud cheers. The Creamland Dairy cow took off. Nemo, Pepe Le Pew, Humpty Dumpty and a couple of bees became airborne. By 8:30, they were pretty much all up- all five hundred or so.

We left and went to breakfast, came home and took a nap. Arthur and Bethany from Boston called about 2:00 to arrange meeting up for a very late lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Old Town before we all went back for the evening Fiesta Festivities. There wasn't a balloon in sight when we arrived this time. There were probably fifteen kites in the air, and the balloon crews were arriving on the field, unpacking and setting up for the Evening Magic Glow. Within an hour there were about a hundred balloons standing, tethered, waiting for dusk. Before dusk, however, a gusty breeze kicked up. The balloons all began flailing back and forth, falling over and deflating. Soon the call was made to abandon the glow show except for the "candlesticks," the gas flamers shooting fire high in the dark sky without balloons on top. When they ended that show, we left as the moved-up fireworks began. Arthur and Bethany went back to their Bed And Breakfast, and we came home. I downloaded 128 new pictures onto my computer, fired up Norton to chase some malware out of my Internet Explorer, and here I am at last, after two days cut off from email, Facebook and Cat Juggler. It's good to be back.

Aging Well

Somehow, in the last three moves and four years of lendings, our copy of The Honesty Room by Dar Williams evaporated- or maybe slipped into another dimension. So this week I bought it again. I am listening to it as I write. I had to click on the Cat during my favorite song, "You're Aging Well." I first heard it played and sung by Cyndie G. Cox many many years ago. Since then I've seen Dar in concert twice (once in Cambridge, MA) and still, that song brings tears to my eyes. I think of my mother, who halfway believed the signs the signmakers made, and my wife, who could have heeded the signs but didn't. Carmen could have stayed in Arkansas, married a good old boy and been barefoot and pregnant ever since. What a criminal waste of material that would have been.

I've never heeded the signs. Of course, that's why I'm unemployed now. No college, still getting dirty every day at fifty six, but with a thousand stories to tell. I wouldn't trade a minute of it. Luckily, my current predicament is merely a minor setback instead of a disaster, but even so, there are many good things that have come out of this period of too much time on my hands. I learned Powerpoint; I joined Facebook; I am a valued volunteer at the theatre; and I have very much enjoyed writing this crapola. I'm thinking of starting another blog devoted to my hundreds of travel stories. There are some good ones.

I'll find a job here, I know I will. I hope it is less strenuous and time-consuming than my past twenty two years. Those days of ten to sixteen hour days didn't give me time to amuse myself so completely. The signmakers keep trying to tell me I'm doing things wrong. My sign reads: If You're Not Enjoying Your Life, You're Not Doing It Right! So there, amen.

Ass Whippin'

The ramp for Sleepy Hollow is built. Some high school kids were scheduled to go to Albuquerque Little Theatre today and put a base coat of paint on it. Colby likes grey. He's the TD (Technical Director for those of you not in show biz) and he's happy to have me around. His other volunteer carpenter Matthew is 86 years old and can only work one day a week.

The December show is the one Colby is really worried about. They're doing Irving Berlin's White Christmas, a show with eleven different sets. They have no fly space, very little wing space and no budget to speak of. Colby's excited because Carmen and I saw it twice in Boston- once with MD Fogg and spouse- and I've done automated scenery before, as well as other forms of moving set pieces. We're going to have to pull every trick in the book to do this show justice with the time and money and space available for it. Good thing I'm not in The Secret Garden.

The title of this posting refers to yesterday, a nine hour day volunteering down at ALT. At about 3:30, Matthew and I finished building and assembling the 7 foot by 24 foot ramp. Matthew went home, and I crawled around on the floor for three more hours cutting and attaching 36 legs to make it show-worthy. A nine-hour strenuous day after three months of sitting at my computer just about kicked my ass. For a lot of my show biz career, a nine-hour day meant we were going home early. Maybe I'm getting older. Maybe I could get used to ten to sixteen hour days again. Truth is, I don't want to get my ass whipped like that any more.

What The Flux!

My Sunday morning musings were skewed today by two things: being busy busy busy, and my self-torture over yesterday's audition for The Secret Garden.

I have two jobs here at home, apart from the job of looking for a job. I fix South Beach Diet friendly meals for Carmen (She's lost 18 pounds in two months) and I clean the house. So from 6:30 to 8:30 I was cooking breakfast stuff and salad toppings for lunches for the week, and washing dishes. After she left for church, the way was clear to change out the litter boxes, vacuum the whole house, mop the bathrooms, hallway, foyer and kitcken, dust and put everything back together. Then I did my regimen of slogging through job search web sites. All of this was woefully behind because of my re-immersion into the wacky world of theatre. Wednesday I went to Musical Theatre Southwest to talk to them about scenery production, then to Albuquerque Little Theatre to talk to them about the same thing. Thursday I bought my first monthly bus pass before heading to MTS to pick up a loaner script for The Secret Garden. Things take a looooong time by bus here in Albuquerque. Friday I built part of a 24 foot ramp for The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow at ALT.

Saturday I did my vocal audition. I was flabberghasted by how nervous I was. My last audition, back in 1986, I was a little nervous, but it didn't affect my performance. Saturday I was appalled by the sounds coming out of my mouth. I have no idea if I was really as bad as I sounded to me, but I know fo sho that I hated it. The raw shame has subsided some now, but I also know fo sho that for the rest of my life, whenever I am reminded of that audition, I will cringe unto paralysis.

I might still get the part of the gruff but cute old gardener- he is a minor character part who doesn't have to sing pretty. I still fit that bill, I think. Meanwhile, I have a Sleepy Hollow ramp to finish and the Secret Garden sets to start, if the Technical Director ever contacts me.

Meanwhile, I might get a call for an interview with the New Mexico School For The Blind, and from some anonymous cabinets etc. shop downtown that advertised on Craig's List Friday. So I might be busy busy busy all the time soon. Or I might just be moderately busy building scenery on a volunteer basis. At least I'll be doing something outside the house. That's a good thing.

Finally!

After nearly three months living in a house with a walled-in back yard, our little blind girl has gone outside twice in the last three days. Thursday it was too late to catch any rays, but this afternoon we went out just as the last of the sunny spots were walking away. She circled the patio, taking care not to walk on the gravel (ouch!) that surrounds it. She walked into a ray and stopped, sniffing and turning her face to her first blast of real, unfiltered New Mexico sunshine. I didn't get a picture of it because the camera was in the house and I didn't want to spook her by going inside until after she'd had her fill.

Professor Remus J. Lupin stalked and attacked her a couple of times, being that there were no snails to beat up on out there. This did not concern her. RJL has been stalking and attacking her multiple times a day for six years. She barely notices any more.

Nobody wanted to come in when it was time. I had to pull the old "open a can of cat food" trick. That one almost always works.

Back In The Saddle

Just to stay in the spirit of the blog, I'll begin by mentioning that Yinny Yin Yin is back in the habit of inhabiting my desk chair. I tried the dry food in the dish trick, but she didn't fall for it. So I'm back on the back-killing bench. Some juggler I am!

It has been decades since I've done any real theatre. Sure, I've built set pieces for theatrical productions, but in a huge shop with twenty other non-theatrical things going on at the same time. I went to two little theatre shops today, where the stuff I build will be set up behind actors who will be rehearsing while I work. One is for The Legend of Sleepy Hollow at Albuquerque Little Theatre, and the other for The Secret Garden for Musical Theatre Southwest. I'm excited to do theatre again.

To top it off, Carmen and I talked it over today, and I'm auditioning for Secret Garden on Saturday. There is a part for a gruff but cute old gardener who sings in my range. It doesn't get any better than that. So I'll be working on scenery and (possibly) acting in the same show. I haven't done that since the early nineties, and not in a real theatre since the mid-eighties. Having something productive to do is wonderful enough. But OOOHHH how I've missed doing theatre!

From 1980 to 87 I was immersed in it. I was working on scenery and rehearsing two parts in Damn Yankees when I met Carmen in 1986. Twenty three years later, I'm doing it again. If I get the part. How can I miss? I'm a gruff but cute old guy who sings in my range!

Bustin' Out

For years I have been working in a business (there's no business like it) which features totally unpredictable hours and days. There was no way I could commit to anything like a theatrical production. I could have volunteered to help build scenery for a show, but who wants to build scenery all day and then build more scenery during precious time off?

For two months now I've had my name and interest in volunteering my scenic production skills on file with two groups here in Albuquerque. After the apparent fall-through of the only two jobs I've interviewed for, I sent emails to both groups asking what was up with that. Rule number one in volunteer organizations: if someone volunteers you don't leave them hanging, even if hangin's too good for 'em. And then, on Craig's List, there was a call for people who like to sing Broadway songs to audition for upcoming "paid" gigs in Broadway revues at various venues around town. I answered that on Sunday afternoon.

Everybody responded. I did a preliminary phone audition for consideration for a real audition some time during the next couple of weeks. Within seconds after that, both theatre groups invited me to come check out their facilities in preparation for both groups building sets for their next shows. It never rains but it pours.

My next ray of hope came from an ad for a Facilities Tech/Groundskeeper at the New Mexico School For The Blind. It just so happens I was Facilities Tech for the house we lived in in Watertown, Massachusetts, owned and occupied by the Volunteer Coordinator for Perkins School For The Blind. Mike said he'll give me a rating of 17 out of 10 when they call him. So I'm guessing I'll be a busy busy boy soon, even if I don't get the Facilities job. That's a very good thing. One more week of slogging through the dozens of online job search sites, and I'd be slinging this fancy-dancy computer into the Rio Grande.

Sunday Morning

Carmen left at 8:00 this morning. She's doing church stuff until 2:00, stopping at the grocery store, and coming home about 3:00. I don't envy her.

I have a long-standing tradition on Sunday mornings. Since my rejection of religion 42 years ago, there has been a vaguely melancholy hole in my life around this time of the week. Susan Werner sang about it in her song "Sunday Mornings" on The Gospel Truth album. I have long spent this time musing on the meaning of things, when the opportunity has presented itself. Like today.

After cleaning the kitchen and the litter box area within an inch of their lives and sweeping the back patio, checking email and catching up on Facebook, I couldn't wait to navigate here to muse 'out loud' to my faithful followers- all four of you.

I was a devoted Unitarian Universalist atheist for about ten years. It was an opportunity to share with a (mostly) caring and open minded community. I put together some of the more popular lay-led church services, delivered passionate god-free sermons, sang in the choir and used some of my vast array of talents in service to said community. I enjoyed it, mostly. But I have one fatal flaw that eventually caught up with me, even there: humans make me crazy.

It comes as a shock to me every time I see on my Facebook profile that I have, as of today, 49 friends. Who, me? I have friends in Vero Beach, St. Augustine and Orlando, Florida. A few are in Maryland, land of my birth. I have a bunch in New England and one in New Zealand. A new one- someone I've never met but who reads this fascinating crapola- added herself to my list today. She lives in New Jersey. How did this happen?

Possibly this next piece of information helps: I have none in Albuquerque other than Carmen. I'm pretty sure that before we leave I will have added one or two here- maybe more. Even if I never find a job here, I plan to get active in the large local theatre scene as a volunteer. I have already sort of connected with a couple of Background Actors. But it seems to be distance that keeps the fires burning. I am an introvert to the nth degree, which surprises people who know me by my wild and crazy persona at work or my love of performing in front of audiences. I get a big rush out of entertaining, but my sanity, such as it is, comes from solitude.

So therein lies the paradox. I need people in my life. I even enjoy being around many of you in small groups. But I need to be alone even more. So come and be my friend- then go away!

Keeping My Eye On The Ball

I guess I can be pretty sure now that the job I really REALLY wanted, Facilities Service Tech in the Biology Department at UNM, has gone to some younger, more Facilities savvy person. There were probably hundreds of applications for it- I know that the job was posted nearly everywhere Albuquerque jobs are posted, which are a lot of places- and I should be proud to have made it as far as the interview. I am. But pride doesn't pay the rent.

Working one day a month as an extra on TV shows doesn't pay the rent either. Some groceries maybe. And now I can't work on Crash or Breaking Bad for a long while, because they don't want to use the same people over and over.

Even Marshalls, who called me in for an interview two weeks ago for a possible part time merchandise restocking gig hasn't called me back. That doesn't disappoint me.

So Thursday, when I was going around the circuit of movie/TV casting websites updating my acting resume, I came across a production company I'd never heard of: Chiliwood Productions, based in Albuquerque. I emailed them for information, sent them a scenery-building resume, and cooked them up a wacky acting resume and sent that. I don't know if anything will come of it, but they are wacky guys and I think I'd enjoy working with them.

The lesson here for me is that there is always another layer to peel back when I think I've reached the bottom of the possibilities for employment. I tried to keep that in mind yesterday, when I was trying to narrow a job search on Helpwanted.com, and the imbedded search engine took me to...Helpwanted.com. Keep looking, keep expanding my parameters. Something will come along.

Busy Week

I was recently directed to someone's blog site to read his fascinating postings. It is my fervent hope that my entries are way more entertaining than his. Perhaps this is a vain wish.

Since my last writing, I have had what I consider to be an interesting week. Monday and Tuesday were spent on Turtle Watch and Phone Monitoring, hoping to see Buckbeak and Fluffy on the back patio, and hoping for a call from UNM inviting me to begin working in the Biology Department. Also, Tuesday afternoon I was supposed to get a call from Crash 2 Casting about my Wednesday gig as a background actor. I was only halfway disappointed. Bucky came out both days as soon as it warmed up out there. Crash 2 called at 7:25 Tuesday evening.

I had been seeing casting notices on Craig's List for a while. There were two main categories: homeless people and millionaires. I was hoping to be advised as to which end of the wardrobe spectrum to prepare myself for. By 8:00 the night before, I finally knew that I was to be a millionaire. An hour after that, I knew to be at the Albuquerque Hilton at 2:00pm. Plenty of time to put together three millionaire wardrobe choices and haul them to the Hilton. Too bad they didn't get some footage of one of their millionaires arriving on the bus.

Wednesday went as expected, after my Breaking Bad experience. Lots and lots of waiting. There were 43 of us itinerant millionaires hanging out at the Hilton, shooting the breeze, eating the free junk food, waiting to be called into the ballroom where the scenes were being shot. I took a picture of Dennis Hopper with my phone. If you look closely, you can almost tell that the grey blob in the picture is a human-like shape. Shooting actually started around 6:00. There were five or six scenes, each shot from different directions, with a half hour or so between set-ups. We were finished at 1:30am, and I called for a cab home.

Remus Lupin was sympathetic to my sleep deprivation dillemma. He let me sleep until 6:15- almost four hours of sleep. He's a good boy.

Yesterday, after my daily job search regimen and Facebook catch-up, I looked out back. There was Fluffy, her first appearance since Sunday. Buckbeak didn't come out.

Carmen left work around 2:15. We went to the New Mexico State Fair for a couple of hours, and then finally had our anniversary dinner at Zea's, our favorite restaurant in Albuquerque.

Today it's back to job search, Facebook and Cat Juggling. It's a fascinating life...I hope.

Turtleversary

Everyone knows, I think, that 23 years is the Turtle Anniversary. If not, it is now. A nice lady at Carmen's church brought us two box turtles- a full-grown male we named Buckbeak, and a cute little female we named Fluffy. They are living outside as I write, scouting the perimeter of the walled-in back yard for a way out. Bucky has at least three times stormed the gate near the front of the house, but the cat juggler he's dealing with had put up a (I hope) turtle proof barrier. Fluffy is trying the other side of the yard.

We were told they will eat the snails that "run" rampant all over the patio and surrounding plantings. Bucky actually saw and went over to sniff one, scaring it to death, but he didn't eat it. They are both too freaked out to eat yet.

Remus J. Lupin has watched them from the safety of the living room, very curious, but he doesn't really seem interested in going out to meet them. He's a chickenshit boy. So now I have two turtles to juggle. I trust that this new task will prove as rewarding as cat juggling. And I'm pretty sure Buckbeak and Fluffy won't be getting me out of bed at 4:00 in the morning.

Happy Anniversary, Baby!

It was 1986. She was twenty three, I was thirty three. We had both seen and heard about each other for months. We actually met while working on the scenery, designed by my dad, for the Vero Beach Theatre Guild production of Damn Yankees. She had already become friends with my dad while I was rehearsing my two roles in the "men-intensive" baseball musical comedy.

I was an actor who worked on scenery, a rare bird in theatre. She was in charge of the scene shifts- there were seventeen of them- and I was the only actor certified on scene shifting. We fell in love backstage. Six months later we were married. My promise to her: the road will get bumpy, but life with me will never be boring." I believe I've kept that promise.

Our first adventure was moving to St. Cloud, Florida, starting fresh in a new place. I started working in show business, and she invented a new kind of law firm. We joined the Unitarian Universalist church in Orlando, where I became a rising star in the choir, in church plays, designing and building wacky party decor, and doing a dozen or so highly entertaining Sunday services. She was backstage, subconsciously working on a coup.

Today, after four years of seminary in Massachusetts, she's onstage in Albuquerque, and I'm backstage, pack-muling, photographing, researching, printing, publishing, fabricating in support of her role as a rising star in the Unitarian Universalist Association.

We have both had many great moments on our respective stages over the past twenty three years. Everything we do we do together in some way- support, reflection, allowing space. I wouldn't trade a minute of our fascinating journey together.

Albuquerque Critters

This is a different world from the places we've inhabited in the past. The climate is wonderful, but I've covered that. The big difference I want to tell about now is the critters. Our first night here, I went outside to experience the cool dryness of a desert night. I wasn't disappointed. But the bestest bestest thing- No mosquitoes! No biting bugs of any description.

Day two brought us our first critter problem: ants. The cat food dishes were full of them. Big black ones. Although they provided some limited entertainment for the kids, a certain female human member of the household was not amused. Luckily, in one of the utility room cabinets, there was a selection of three styles of ant bait left by the previous tenants. So this was not a new problem. They helped. A lot. Also, we soon discovered, there was a small cadre of spiders living here, feasting on the ant population. We decided to share our space with them. Then one day suddenly the kitchen counters were infested with tiny brown ants. The baits that worked so well for the black ones did nothing. So I tried the liquid bait. BAM! Gone in a day. Another morning I discovered a twelve-foot trail of little browns in the living room, feasting on a dropped pecan piece on the carpet. Liquid bait. BAM!

Crickets don't last long inside. Remus Lupin has made it his job to be our cricket monitor, leaving me only the job of removing the carcasses after he's done playing with them. I do so cheerfully.

Out on the back patio there is a largeish population of snails. Carmen was telling a parishioner about this, and was advised to get turtles. They love to eat snails. So today we are scheduled to hook up with a congregant who has a turtle overload. Hopefully, today, our twenty third anniversary, we are going to become turtle jugglers!

Back To Cats

It has been a while since I wrote about cats. Last night Carmen reminded me of one of the most intensive cat juggling episodes of my career- a three-week car trip from Massachusetts to Albuquerque.

After the huge ordeal of packing two sixteen foot PODS, dispersing the rest of our crap, cleaning the apartment and cramming the car brim full of easily accessible stuff, it was time to load up the kitties. Luckily, my cat juggler's eye had noticed when spelunker Remus J. Lupin snuck into the end of a rolled up area rug. I was able to magically produce him when Carmen asked where he was hiding. Poor Yin was out of places to hide. We packed them into their carriers, packed the carriers into the car, and off we went. The date was June 24th, 2009, four years and two hours after Carmen's arrival in Massachusetts.

For the first hour on the road, we heard the constant whining of two cats: "Are we there yet? Are we there yet?" Not for three weeks, kids. We bought gas in Sturbridge, before jumping on Interstate 84 toward Scranton. When we were ready to go again, I grabbed Remus from his carrier and sat in the car with him. He dove for the floorboard and stayed there. Carmen then handed Yin to me, and Carmen got in the driver's side. This system seemed to work. The whining stopped, and all I had to do was prevent Yin from meandering over Carmen's way while she was driving- a cat juggling trick if ever there was one.

We spent the night in Scranton. This is where we learned that we needed to use those extra motel pillows for the purpose of sealing the gap under the bed between the bed base and the wall, where both kitties immediately scurried.

We settled into a routine on our second day. Pack them in their carriers until lunch time; let them out in the front seats while we ate lunch, with the litter box and some water on the floor on my side; pack away the litter and hit the road for the long afternoon. A cat juggling extravaganza in busy, noisy parking lots with two ultra-hinky kitties.

After three days on the road, we were ready for a week in Georgia with my parents. We were able to let the kids explore the cabin, and renew their relationship with Mr. Butter. But by the time they got over the shell shock of the road trip it was time to pack them up again.

It was the fourth of July when we spent the night in Biloxi. Not only were there amateur fireworks around the motel, there was a horrendously violent hours-long thunder storm that knocked out the power for several hours. All four of us were miserable.

Then there were four days in Crosby, Texas with Carmen's family. Cat jugglers they are not. Cat jugglers don't leave doors ajar. Cat jugglers are ready to block cats when they open doors. Cat jugglers don't keep caged birds in accessible locations. I was a busy boy, trying to keep the kids fed, scooped, out of harm's way and away from the caged birds. It was a long four days.

The next two days on the road were surprisingly uneventful, considering we had a pink-haired, cell-phone-texting thirteen-year-old girl riding with us. The worst of it was Oklahoma City, where we hit rush hour traffic, the temperature was 105 degrees, our hotel reservationist gave us bad directions, and the room on the third floor never did cool down. The best thing about Oklahoma City was when we got on Interstate 40 westbound the next morning, and the GPS said "drive 435 miles and exit right." We did.

We were many days in Albuquerque before the kitties settled down. But settle down they did, and I'm back to just routing juggling. Whew!

Busy Busy Busy

So two things happened yesterday. We opened a checking account, and I applied for one of the strangest job descriptions ever.

First the checking account. You have to have proof of residence to do that. Carmen wanted to wait until she got her driver's license. Fourth time's the charm. The first MVD trip was when we were told we didn't have the correct documents to prove residency. The second time I got my license, but she saw it was a temporary license while one waits for the real one in the mail. She needed a real ID the next day, so she kept her Massachusetts license. The third time she was told that they couldn't accept her Social Security card because she laminated it about thirty years ago. So yesterday she went to the SS office and got an acceptable document, and then she went to the MVD for a driver's license, then we got a checking account- two months and one day after arriving here. Yay.

Now the job. Exhibit Technician, the ad said. Someone who can help us build and install computer-based multi touch tables and custom exhibit installations. Someone with fabrication shop skills, electric skills and some experience with computers. Someone with strong organizational skills to help manage our tools, equipment and small shop space. Additionally... detail oriented, strong verbal and written communication skills, experience with Word and other Office software, basic drafting and design skills, familiarity with CAD, experience working with optical equipment, an understanding of the Windows operating system, a basic understanding of networking and components, programming skills, experience in museums, and an engineering or physics background.

If they don't hire me, I want to meet the person they hire. I figure I've got about 80 percent of what they're asking for. The other twenty usually don't come with a person who operates the saws, routers and drills. I've never met anyone who measures up to what they are looking for, but if I did, I bet they wouldn't want to work for the pay these guys are offering. I would- it's good pay for what I do. But a physics background? I mean I understand the basics of physics, but not to claim as education or experience.

If nothing else, I want to meet these people, just to see if they're as nutty as they sound.

Blank

Ah, the intimidation of the blank page. What to write today? I owe my followers- all three of you- a new posting.

The kitties have been cute, of course, that's their primary function. How much cuteness can we stand? Remus caught a leaf this morning- not much there. Yinny Yin Yin still wouldn't come outside. Nothing new. They got me up at 4:40. Big whoop.

I've applied for about seven jobs since Wednesday. Things seem to be picking up in the post-summer carpentry market, but there are at least 82 other guys after every one I apply for. Persistence is the key, I guess- once those 82 guys are working it will be my turn. Right?

I'm up to 43 friends on Facebook- Who'd-a-thunk-it? Not me, I'm flabberghasted. The strangest thing, though, is that many of these friends don't seem to be open to extra-Facebook communication. Maybe "friends" is a bit too strong of a term for our Facebook connections.

So life goes on here on the high desert. Maybe something worth writing about will happen today.

All Hail!

Remus J. Lupin was sitting at the back screen door, longing to go out this afternoon. The skies were blue with a few puffy clouds; the back patio was bathed in sunshine, balmy breezes blew. Then suddenly the dark clouds rolled in, and there was a clap of thunder. Big Bad Kitty was under the bed in a flash. Seconds later the rain started. Seconds after that, hail began hammering the skylights- my first New Mexico hail storm. BBK stayed under the bed.

I watched the hail stones, the size of peas, bouncing off the driveway and street. It was a cloudburst of Orlandoan proportions. Then it stopped, the sun came out, and less than two hours after it started, the world was dry again. It's almost chilly out this evening. I like New Mexico weather. Remus is not so sure.

Just Cuz

Through a convoluted series of events, including the fabrication of a Facebook account for my dad (who couldn't give a crap about Facebook) I emailed a couple of pictures to my cousin Evelyn, the family historian. She said that she was glad she was sitting down when my email appeared in her inbox. Why? Because the last time I ever had any contact with her was probably in the mid-sixties, during one of the family reunions where everyone sat in a circle in somebody's living room and talked. I was maybe twelve or thirteen at the time, all of my cousins were years older than me, and those reunions were enough to drive me nuts-- short drive, I know.

I've sometimes wondered at myself and my relations with my family. I used to hang out with a family in Maryland that I felt closer to than most of my own. They were a tightly knit bunch, and I was glad to be around them. I was best man at Michael's wedding, an usher for one of his sisters' wedding, and chauffeur for the other. When Michael died, I was a pall bearer. Carmen and I were seated at the family table at the luncheon after the funeral, and had Thanksgiving dinner with them the next day. I've never been that close to my own family, other than my parents. When my brother died I went to the funeral home and picked up the box with his ashes in it, and it's stored in my parents' attic. Touching.

I can name all of my aunts and uncles, I even think I can name all of my cousins. But I haven't seen any cousins since the early seventies, and the Delaware branch of the family- I have only the vaguest recollection.

My Uncle Jim was my favorite, and my dad's best buddy growing up. I saw him more than all of the rest put together, and he didn't provide any cousins.

So Cousin Evelyn, I can only say that somehow the importance of family escaped me, either by nature or nurture. I can easily believe I will go to my college (I don't get a grave- I'm donated to medical study) without seeing any of you again. How sad is that?

Soup's On!

It was just about eight years ago that the soup began to bubble. The meat had been there since early in her life, hanging out with her grandfather- who showed her the unsung wonders of the natural world- and her grandmother- who shared with her the joy of community service; the church services she attended in Arkansas, where the hellraisers and opressors of her small town spoke loudly of the pious life they would never actually live.

The vegetables were selected, washed and sliced as she found the satisfaction of stage managing high school theatre productions, and later, the hard work of keeping a law firm on an even keel. She encountered a man who had quit religion at fourteen and set out on a journey toward understanding the universe without the drama of gods, heaven or hell, and who believed that her journey was at least as important as his or anybody else's. We became a formidable team.

The fire was lit as they joined the First Unitarian Church of Orlando, finding a large group of humans who understood and cared about their journeys. That first sound of singing in the pot was heard when the Worship Associates program was begun, and she was learning the magic of turning an idea into a one-hour worship experience for a room full of people she cared about. Then there was Leadership School, General Assembly, and then working in the Florida District Office. Her Professional Organizing business, she came to understand, was ministry without the credentials. She wanted the credentials. Bubble bubble, toil and trouble.

She spent two years mopping up the remaining credits and requirements of a Bachelor's Degree, then four years ago began the joyful hard work of earning a Master of Divinity degree. We lived in Massachusetts for four years, she graduated with honors in May, and now we're in Albuquerque, with her name in lights on the corner of Commanche and Carlisle.

She still has to face the Ministerial Fellowship Committee in December. If all goes well there, she can begin her search for a congregation lo lead and follow- cats to herd. Good thing she's married to a world class cat juggler.

A Night On The Town!

Carmen had to work last night, so she brought me the car and her debit card and rode away with her boss. This was my big chance, the break I had been waiting for!. I jumped into the car and fired 'er up.

First stop: Jo Ann Fabrics. Nothing says wild and crazy like a trip to Jo Ann. And yes, I found what I was looking for- twist pins. Our bed skirt just wouldn't stay on without them. And just to assert my independence, I threw in a pack of chewing gum!

Next stop: Wal Mart for peanut butter, coffee filters, toothpaste, eye drops and (don't tell Carmen) a bag of tortilla chips! Then on to Smith's for groceries: fish, chicken, ground beef, veggies, all those guilty pleasures. What a night! I didn't get home until 7:05- late for kitty feeding time. And don't think they didn't know it.

Big Bad Kitty Triumphs!

We went out back again this morning, Prof. Lupin and I. He wanders through the foliage back there, nosing around, looking for the unfortunate cricket that happens to wind up in his clutches. This morning, however, he scared up and vanquished a new kind of prey.

He came strutting out of the plantings, tail held high, head erect- and something in his mouth. Yes, my boy ReLu, Mighty Hunter, Big Bad Kitty had chased down and captured a snail!

It Ain't Boston

There are many things to like about Albuquerque. The scenery is breathtaking. The climate is much more comfortable in summer than Orlando or Boston. The streets are well marked, unlike Boston, and the intersections are easily navigable, WAY unlike Boston- where an intersection nearly always includes six or seven ways to turn, none of them marked- but today I decided to try out Albuquerque buses.

As some of you know, when we moved to Boston four years ago, I sold my vehicle. Parking in Boston sucks. Driving in Boston sucks. I spent four years living and working in and around Boston using only public transportation. I heard many people there complaining about the MBTA, and I had my share of snafus during those four years. But at least I could get where I was going. I walked quite a bit, but I like to walk. I rarely walked more than a half mile at a stretch. I enjoyed it, and I wasn't shy about saying so.

Today I rode two buses from the First Unitarian Church, about four miles away, and I got home in two hours. I walked a mile and a half. Because, from 10:00am until 3:00pm, the #2 bus doesn't run the full route. Instead of getting off at Ventura and Freedom Way, I had to get off at Layton and Academy. I guess I should have known. The #2 only runs once an hour middays. I don't even want to think how long it might take on weekends. If I ever find a job out here, I might have to buy a vehicle. Is it worth it? Hmmm.

Happy Birthday!

Not since the last century have I known the birthday of one of my cats. I guessed that Yin and Yang were born around Tax Day 1999. Mr. Peanut Butter was probably around Thanksgiving 1995. Harvie was the only one I ever knew, and I've forgotten. I think it was in March, 1980. But Remus J. Lupin was definitely born Labor Day, September 1st, 2003. He's celebrating by sleeping in my desk chair. Yin isn't as keen about this extravaganza as ReLu is. She's sleeping on the bed right behind the chair and wearing her Grumpy Face.

So this and the next entry are written from the uncomfortable little bench. Like a cheap hairpiece, it's a small price toupee for this gala celebration. Happy birthday, Professor!

Another Defeat

I took a shower- even though I had one yesterday. I got dressed in my Sunday-Go-To-Meetin' clothes (yes, the same clothes I wore to church yesterday after my shower) even though the job I was applying for would be the same style of job referred to in my previous entry. I was envisioning 500 unemployed cabinet makers applying for this job, and any advantage I could give myself would count. Even if it meant a shower and fancy duds two days in a row.

The online job search site said that the job was posted on the 26th, and applicants should be at 5401 Lomas at 10:00 Monday. I, of course, got there at 9:30 (it's a sickness) expecting to have trouble finding a place to park. No trouble. No crowds. No visible cabinet shop. I wandered from one end of the strip mall to the other, front and back, looking for any sign of cabinets or cabinet makers. Nothing. Nobody.

5401 was the number of a print shop. I saw a big, wide, goofy-looking guy in a tee shirt, shorts, sneakers and a Stupid Hat go into the print shop. I went in after him. He was standing there chatting with the guy at the counter. "Can I help you?" asked counter guy. "I don't know," I replied. "Do you happen to know anything about a cabinet maker job?" He pointed at Goofy.

"That was last Monday," said Goofy in a Texas drawl. "But come on back anyway." He led me through the back of the print shop to an abandoned office where he had two chairs and a desk with a computer on it. He took my resume and looked it over. I offered to show him my portfolio.He declined. He wasn't gonna look at the forty seven eight by ten color glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one explainin' what each one was...

The Good Ol' Pillsbury D'oh Boy turned out to be a tree surgeon who sometimes did cabinetry on the side and complained about the President full time. He had 82 applicants last week. I don't think I'll be doing any work for this guy.

As Cyndie G. Cox said, "YIKES!"

The Longest Day

Yesterday was my first visit to the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque. It's a biggun, with over 700 members. The sanctuary holds, maybe 300. To accomodate everyone, they do three services every Sunday. Yesterday, the new intern was being introduced, as well as her Significant Other, which is me. We arrived at 9:20am, in time for the first service, and left at 2:20pm, after the third. We were both "on" during the entire time.

For twenty-odd years I have worked in scenery/ exhibit/ display/ cabinetry shops where acting crazy and being loud and obnoxious is part and parcel of the job. Being charming and polite for five solid hours was quite a stretch for me. It even took its toll on Carmen, who came home (after a late lunch and shopping) at 4:30 and collapsed for several hours.

Before yesterday I had resolved to stay away from FUCA as much as I could manage. Now it's the new Prime Directive.

Big Bad Kitty

Before moving to Albuquerque, Carmen flew out here to look at the house we would be renting from members of the First Unitarian Church of Albuquerque. She wanted a real idea of the size and layout of the living space and the storage space. She came back to Massachusetts all excited because the house has a walled-in back patio where our little blind cat could actually be outside and hunt in relative safety.

Yin steps outside the sliding door sometimes, but she's still not comfortable going out. Remus J. Lupin, on the other hand, has been out back Four Times now, because he's a Big Bad Kitty.

This morning Remus and I were hanging out together back there, he was exploring his domain, sniffing the plants, kicking ass on the crickets and lounging in the sunshine. When I was ready to come in I called to him. He gave me a "Yeah right!" look and went the other way. I opened the sliding screen, which made a noise, and set the two big dogs next door to barking.

A grey striped streak flew by my legs, spun out around the big turn, regained traction and hauled ass down the hallway, and was under the bed about two seconds after the first bark.

Thirty seconds after that, he strolled nonchallantly out from under the bed and flopped casually onto the floor. 'Cause he's a Big Bad Kitty. Nothing scares him. Just ask him.

Limitations

My desk chair is no longer my own. Little Miss Yinny Yin Yin owns it now. I can entice her away from it and sit in it for a while. But as soon as I get up to get a drink, use the bathroom or stretch my legs, she's back in it. Now, after a week of her full time ownership, it is completely coated in white cat hair. Carmen cleaned it off a few days ago, but it was covered again in no time. So now I use the little bench shown in the picture over there. It isn't nearly as comfortable, but at least it's big enough to share. She and Remus Lupin both know that the chair is my preferred sitting place, therefore it's their preferred sitting place. I should be able to take my chair back, right? Cat juggling is what I do, right?

Even a cat juggler's gotta know his limitations.

I spent nearly the whole day today searching for job postings and jumping through the mountains of hoops in the way of applying for them. My back is aching because , like right this moment Remus is sound asleep in my chair, and I'm perched on this damned bench. I want to stomp over there and dump his ass out. But I don't.

Just who is juggling whom around here?

Crisis Of Faith

Being the wife of a minister has its challenges. Being the wife of Carmen the minister is no more challenging, I suppose. Being the atheist wife of Carmen the minister holds unique opportunities for reflection and doubt.

I'm not an atheist in the sense of believing that there is nothing. I merely refuse to be categorized among those who believe that "everything happens for a reason," or worse, that there is some human-like personality that controls- or indeed even cares about- what goes on in my life.

I believe that the universe is made up of matter and energy, all composed of exactly the same stuff that my wise and wonderful brain is made of. I believe that the entire universe is at least as wise and wonderful as my brain, but like way bigger, with a lot more stuff going on. My body is a microcosm of the way the universe works: each of my cells has nutritional needs, food, water and oxygen; My heart pumps without any intelligence pushing the buttons; red blood cells collect and deliver nourishment; white blood cells encounter foriegn contaminants and render them harmless. Over four billion years this system evolved because it could. It perpetuates itself because it can. Life is fire that feeds and grows and seeks the means to feed and grow. The intellect that is successful at helping the fire keep burning will perpetuate itself and grow more successful. No gods are needed for this process.

On the other hand, we are an inseparable cog in the machinery of the entire universe. As a tree stretches out its roots seeking water and nutrients, so the universe has needs and seeks their fulfillment. We express our yearnings, and the machine turns and turns, grinding and mixing and killing and birthing, and the universe feels a splash of joy when the blood cell arrives with the goods, the root finds a source of water, the orange kitten finds the porch of the cat juggler, the unwitting minister-to-be finds the guy who can awaken in her the yearning, and do battle with her through all of the challenges on the way to that fulfillment.

I believe this. I do. So why does it bother me that I haven't found a job yet in Albuquerque? Did I forget the Prime Directive? The Gospel according to Tom Robbins: Keep your eye on the ball, even when you can't see the ball.

Rainy Day

We don't get many of them in Albuquerque. In Florida there was a horrendous downpour nearly every day from April until October, and all-day rains every now and then. In Massachusetts, rainy days were commonplace. After nearly two months in Albuquerque, today we had our first rainy day.

About 10:00 this morning Carmen asked me if we could turn on the air conditioning. I looked at the thermostat. The inside temperature was 74 degrees, but the humidity! It was over 50 percent!

It's funny how we can adjust so quickly to a new environment. Especially in Florida, and to a lesser degree in Boston, 74 degrees and 50 percent humidity would have been extraordinarily pleasant days. But here, when the humidity spikes over 25 percent, we notice- and are uncomfortable.

There is standing water on the street and on the back patio. We've never seen that before. When it rains here, or the irrigation system turns on, as soon as it stops you can watch the ground dry. Not today. It's a rainy day in Albuquerque.

15 Hours At ABQ Studios

I got my desk chair back so I could use the computer. It took a handful of dry cat food in the dish. Cheap.

So yesterday I showed up for my 10:45 call at about 10:00 (it's a sickness.) I checked in with Tiffany, the Background Actor juggler- more taxing than cat juggling, and pays better- filled out my paperwork, and was herded to Wardrobe to have my two outfits checked and chosen. I was to be an Onlooker first, then an office worker later. Our instructions were explicit- Onlooker: casual; Office worker: business casual- bring options for both. Carmen had dressed me and picked out several outfits at the stores. The Onlooker outfit I was wearing was perfect, of course. Wardrobe Woman picked out my Office wear and asked about my tie. Tie? Carmen had assured me that "business casual" does not include ties. So she took my pay voucher hostage and issued me a loaner tie.

And then...the wait. As it turns out, the hour and a half wait for the Onlooker gig was short. Tiffany herded us to a doorway to the soundstage building, and we were apprised of the content scene: the air traffic controller who "caused" a mid-air collision last season being mobbed by reporters and photographers. Eventually, director Brian Cranston came along and we began actual rehearsal and shooting of the scene. It took less than a half hour. Then we were told to change into our Office duds. Before 1:00 we were ready for the Office scene.

The Office scene began actual rehearsal and shooting at about 11:30pm. In between, I was treated to a show that interested me as a scenic carpenter/stagehand. We were herded into a corner of the soundstage where we watched the technical side of the shooting of scenes inside a box set. We couldn't see anything inside the box, but outside, there were humans crawling all over. One thing the guys did was to cut a big hole in the top of the box. Then a big boom lift with a huge light positioned itself over the hole and blasted the interior with a buttload of photons. All of this was done while background actors for those scenes waited around with us Office people. Then they turned on the smoke machines. The whole soundstage remained full of "smoke" for the rest of the time we were there.

Lunch was 5:30 to 6:30

About 9:30 an unknown human came along and asked us Office people to follow him. We assumed we were going to another set in the soundstage. He led us outside. We assumed he would give us our instructions out of range of any current shooting, before going to the set. He led us to a van. "Climb in," he said. "We're going to an office building- it's close by, but too far to walk". We had all left all of our stuff behind, and he assured us there was no need to fetch it. Off we went. When the crew was finished over at the soundstage, they packed their gear and came over. As I said, it was about 11:30 before Brian actually got things going. I am very visible in this scene. The huge pink back of my head is hovering in the shot for a while until it is led away by another office guy.

We reshot the scene several times from each of several angles, finishing at 1:15 (that's what my pay voucher says) and we were soon hauled back to the studio, back to our stuff, back to wardrobe to turn in ties etc., get our vouchers signed and go the heck home. Carmen came and got me at 2:00, bless her heart.