Friday, November 29, 2019

Hey, Thanks!


Can't we just enjoy all this food without all this being thankful crap?  

But, in all honesty, the theme behind Thanksgiving, not the history is one of my personal favorites and I value the time spent in repose, pondering what it is we have to be thankful for, making our lists of gratitude either in written form or mere thought over the month of November.  In all truth, its something that should not just be done one month or even merely a day in the year, but every day, to take that pause to reflect, to notice, just what it is one is grateful for. 

Like perchance today, when I was stranded in the hills above Ashland, the truck I am driving precariously resting upon a chunk of ice that left myself and the dog by my side in the situation of either careening into the house below or sliding into the parked car near us, and then three angels emerged from the snowy woods of which I had only recently came from myself.  Okay, they were just three hippie-like citizens of Ashland, but they took their time and had the compassion to lend a hand, even after I swore profusely up and down when I slammed the tip of my pointer finger in the back door, blood spurting everywhere onto the snow.  They patiently chatted to help me out, while I dug through the mess of the truck cabin trying to find some thing to create a make-shift bandage to stem the blood so I could assist their assistance.  And, yes, I found the napkin and taped up my finger, yes, they got me safely off the mountain, as one joked with me, "You are having quite the day." To which I replied, "No, its just a moment."  But, the kindness and non-judgment in that emotional moment for me was what I needed to get back on course.  As I drove off, they chirped, "Til next time" and I responded, "Next time I help you!"

Yes, its pleasant moments like that that remind us that the idea of "the kindness of strangers" is actually a reality. 

So, back to the matter of thanksgiving, eating the grub, and all that about what being grateful.  Indeed, I truly have much to be thankful for this year, having the loving support of many a friend, a warm roof over my head, the cutest kitty ever that sleeps in my bed, being able to create art both onstage and onscreen and see its fulfillment alongside some beloved souls, being paid for what I love to do which gives me a new feeling of appreciation that I cannot fully express or comprehend as of yet, and finally finding the return of the love and magic of life and Ashland. 

But, that is not the arena of thankfulness that I want to discuss right now.  At present, my mind falls upon those individuals who came into my life and proved to be less than beneficial and in some to many ways, toxic in a variety of way.  Yes, I am truly thankful for these individuals and circumstances for showing me that I had the strength to set the boundary and could survive, that I could graciously step back, watch them fade away, and then to see the myriad of strong, loving supportive beloved souls who came about to lift me up as I had lifted them.

It is not only the moments of high achievement and success that I am grateful, but also the moments of hardship, of emotional turmoil and upheaval, that cause me to stop, look, ponder and work through, coming out the other side with a fresh understanding of my own self, my own capabilities, and self worth. 

I wish all the same for you, dear reader, and am deeply grateful for each of you taking the time to read my blogging words.


Wednesday, November 27, 2019

Love What You Do


Janice sat down i the cold conference, windowless room at the oval grey table.  She pulled out her pink pen with the streamers and her snappy black hand held notebook.  Across from her sat Toilet Bowl Man who could plunge a toilet in less than 5 seconds.

He wore a red cape, blue jumpsuit with a picture of a toilet bowl emblazoned across his chest, overflowing with a line and a circle covering it.

"Let's begin with your name," Janice asked, getting right down to business.

"Toilet Bowl Man," he promptly answered and then was silent.

"Uh, do you have any other name?" She asked furtively, feigning flirtatious innocence, hoping for a bite.

"None of your business!" he answered sharply.  Janice buried her head in her notebook, sheepishly.  She had heard about the temper of Toilet Bowl Man, when pressed, it could erupt and cause messes that would spill out to places unknown.

"Okay, first question then," she finally said, with a reluctant sigh.  "How long have you been plunging toilets?"

"Since I was a kid," he began with an air of wistful nostalgia and could it be a wisp of a fart fluttered through the air from his direction.  "My mom used my powers then to help her with clogged toilets.  I didn't know it was a super power then, just something I loved to do, felt good."

"That's interesting," Janice pried.  "Why does it feel good?"

Toilet Bowl pondered his answer for a moment.

"It's rewarding," he said at last.  "Watching the toilet de-clog, stuff go down.  Very relaxing!"

Then, he smiled.  And, Janice couldn't help smiling too.

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

Love Your Body

Lexie Richards from Dixie Swim Club at Barnstormers Theatre

On New Years Eve, entering 2019, I held a happy and somewhat quiet little shindig at my home.  One of the activities was to design vision boards for the year to come.  On mine, I placed a magazine cut out of a woman's large breasts wearing a lacy bra. No, this wasn't because I was wanting to dabble in any sort of homosexuality leanings, not that there is anything wrong with that, I just don't swing that way.  But, no it was because I was asking the Universe, God, what have you, to bring into my life all that is needed for a breast reduction.  I was ready to do what it took to reduce the balls of flesh hanging from my thin frame.

The thing is, in order to get the procedure covered, you have to prove that its a physical health concern.  And, in some ways, it is, I think. I mean, I do have back pain issues and find it increasingly harder to wear a bra for a considerable amount of time and have to frequently look for new bras as the chest size keeps enlarging itself, although the rest of me appears to lose weight.

Then, in late February of this year, something amazing happened. I got cast in a play that will forever live in my heart, for the character I played (see above photo), the other characters, the bond I formed with the actresses whose stage I shared, the director and crew, and the story-line.  It was at my beloved Barnstormers' Theatre in Grants Pass, Oregon and to date my most beloved role on that stage yet.  The character, Lexie Richards, is a devoted friend to her college swim-mates yet can appear a bit vain, as she continually seeks to stem off the tide of aging by increasingly going under the knife; anything from plastic surgery, breast implants, and buttocks implants.  To this, I joked with my cast and crew, I, the actress, am wanting a breast reduction.  They laughed with me.

But, Lexie, among a myriad of other realities this year, helped heal and transform my views on my body in an unique and powerful way.  Lexie was proud of what she could do to improve her body, yet she was not lacking in intelligence, commonsense, or compassion.  She was a steadfast and loyal confident and companion to each of her four sisters.  She was capable enough to weather many a divorce and to hold a successful business.  In short, she was no ditz.

I took that into my being, as I do any character who truly I become one with, as I continued on in the year.  In my mind, I was still wanting that breast reduction.

But there was a shift in my understanding that affected my desire for the reduction.  I realized I, myself, was hating on my body by wanting this reduction.  I realized that there were still some hold over feelings of disgust from the years of abuse from the church, who basically preached rape culture in that if a guy looks at me lustfully, well, its my fault, and so much more. 

This, and developing feelings for an old flame, led me to a deeper and deeper appreciation of my body as it was given to me.  I have joked with friends that I got my body from my Grandma (who died this last winter).  She, too, was of the top-heavy sort, large breasts, thin every where else, the Barbie Doll Body Variety!  My mother confided in me once that Grandma always had wanted a breast reduction, like me.

But perhaps there is a deeper lesson to learn, one that my dear grandmother Margaret, never was truly able to comprehend.  My large breasts and "Barbie" doll body do not reflect anything negative about me.  My body, this skin suit, that carries all my inner organs about with me, is part of me and always has been.  I can be truly proud as the years have progressed, that I still look as healthy, perky, and, to be blunt, sexy as I do.  This doesn't mean I'm easy or stupid, its just who I am.

For that, I am grateful.  Do I want or need the breast reduction? Time will foretell, but for now, I am growing increasingly more content with who I am and how I look.




You don't have to try so hard
You don't have to, give it all away
You just have to get up, get up, get up, get up
You don't have to change a single thing

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