Football Frustration

Andy Reid drafted a quarterback. Why? We don't need another QB this season. What we do need are starters both offensively and defensively. We need to strengthen our defensive line and our receiving corps. He didn't think about this season. He thought about 3 seasons from now. Why, why, why???? Even Donovan doesn't want to talk to him. Donovan needs help on the field THIS season. So frustrating.

Maybe Reid thinks he'll get a starter cheap in free-agency. That's a hell of an assumption. Ugh!

Still, I can't wait for football season. Sigh...

Sunday recovery

I think of Sunday as the day of recovery. I do my best not to make specific plans on Sundays so as to be free to do whatever I a) have the energy for; b) needs to be done; and/or c) strikes my fancy. Such things might include anything from the obvious (reading the paper, doing laundry, grocery shopping, vacuuming) to the ambitious (creative projects, exercising, mopping the kitchen floor) to actual recovery from activities the night before (nursing hangovers, recapping with friends, napping, eating lots of chips, writing in my journal).

What am I doing today? A little of each. Currently, for instance, I'm dying my roots while catching up on my blog. I have written in my journal, talked to friends, eaten a fair amount of chips, read the paper and went to Walgreen's for shampoo, t.p. and Propel water (my favorite new recovery beverage).

See, last night's activities require some recovery. I'm not hung over (though I did smoke too much, for which a price must be paid). I'm a little groggy, considering I didn't get home until 3am. That I can handle. It's the disappointment that has me struggling. I had hoped last night would go differently, and I'm bummed. I thought the guy (it's about a guy, as if that wasn't obvious) was going to stay sober and he didn't. He said he quit drinking, and I believed him. He got drunk—so drunk he didn't realize how drunk he was, so tried to deny it. Hence, the fun, light, romantic, sexually-charged romp I was looking forward to didn't happen. The mood was killed. He blew it!

I'm sure it's just as well, and I'm better off, and all that. My heart's not broken or anything. Still, I need a day of recovery ... so thank goodness for Sunday.

Thursday night TV

Ever since I was a kid, Thursday nights have been THE night for planting yourself on the couch. According to Wikipedia, "Over the course of two decades, NBC's Thursday lineup featured such popular shows as Hill Street Blues, The Cosby Show, Family Ties, Night Court, LA Law, Frasier, Seinfeld, ER, Friends and Will & Grace." Other channels have gotten in on the act too, with Scrubs, CSI, Without a Trace, Gray's Anatomy, and my personal favorite SURVIVOR.

It's the one show I can't miss. Ever. I don't care what else is going on, or who offers me what should be a better, social alternative. I gotta be home for Survivor. Yes, there are times I have to tape it, but those times are rare. It's never the same taped. Like watching a football game taped. No good. You want to feel the action while it's happening.

No matter how many seasons have passed, and how many reward challenges, and how many times Jeff Probst says the same stuff over and over (his most repeated phrases include, "c'mon in guys," "wanna know what you're playing for?" and "I'll go tally the votes")... none of that calms my fervor.

The show is so much more than just a reality show. It's about as true a social experiment as you can get on TV. These people have seen the show, some of them have studied the show thoroughly, yet they still do the same things every other alliance has done in all preceding seasons even though it doesn't work. It's fascinating!

May 13 is the 3-hour finale, and I've already posted it in my calendar so I don't make other plans. Woo hoo! Can't wait!!

It's not just mud

I could go on and on about my relationship with clay -- from the first piece I ever made in grade school (a clown face paperweight), to learning the art of throwing, to the beadmaking class I taught in Maine that caused me to collapse of exhaustion, to making production tiles for 4 straight years. It's been a long and winding road, much of which has been rife with enormous self-imposed pressure to make great stuff of importance and greatness (whatever that means).

I've tried over the the years to take pottery classes at local art centers just for fun, but would inevitably get bogged down by my own expectations for what could be accomplished.

All of that has changed, thank goodness! I'm currently enrolled in a class called "Creative Tableware" at the Perkins Center for the Arts in Moorestown, NJ, taught by David Gamber. After only 3 sessions, it has already been a revelation.

For once in my life, the clay studio is actually an escape from the pressure instead of being a different type of pressure. I'm making cups, bowls, beads, bells and anything else my heart desires ... with absolutely no pressure. It's wonderful! The day's anxieties melt away and my head clears for a few hours. I come home refreshed and relaxed.

I'm accomplishing a whole lot more than just making pots. More on this in the days and weeks to come...

Spring Top 5

Here's my spring-infused Top 5 Reasons Why I Love Collingswood, NJ (my new hometown)

1. A mere 15 minute drive gets me to the Perkins Art Center in Moorestown where I can play with clay.

2. My landlord hung the awning that protects my porch from the elements, and now it feels like I have another room!

3. Cooper River Park. It's fantastic. Plus, my city friends come out and walk with me there. Exercise, fresh air and girl talk... sigh...

4. Quiz Night at the Pop Shop. Local and city friends come together to share the stuff we know, along with fries and ice cream.

5. The ceiling fan in my bedroom. It's a first for me, and my sleep has never been so slumberful.

2 things I know

1. The doors on commuter trains are NOT like the doors on elevators. They don't reopen when they sense (or even feel) human flesh in between as they are closing. Yes, I learned this the hard way. Yes, I have bruises.

2. Closing your eyes while power-walking on a treadmill is a very bad idea. You could fall, hurt yourself and make everyone in the gym rush to see if you're alright. Trust me, it's embarrassing. So don't let that really cool White Stripes song on your iPod lure you into forgetting where you are. You're in the gym. There are lots of people around. Plus, falling hurts. Yes, more bruises.

Ode to the Rerun

We all have favorite TV shows. Shows we can't miss. Shows we make dates to watch. Shows we discuss and dissect with friends. Shows we tape/Tivo/Netflix /on-demand. It's usually important to watch such shows in sequence so that the trajectory of the story is cohesive. This makes reruns frustrating and annoying when you're dying to get to the next plot point.

When I got hooked on Six Feet Under, the show had completed its run on HBO. I had heard it was good, so I Netflixed the first few episodes ... and was immediately and forever hooked/devoted/fanatical. The goings on of the Fisher family consumed my waking hours for weeks. (To this day, I get wistful when I drive by a funeral home with a residence attached.) If I had been watching while it was airing, reruns might have rendered me insane.

But now I've seen every episode in proper sequence, and the Fishers' lives have been resolved in satisfying narrative. I even know how each of them dies. No unanswered questions. What a relief!

This makes reruns (now airing on Bravo) sweet, because I'm no longer desperate for the next development. I can relax and enjoy the nuances of Ruth's self-discoveries, Claire's drug experimentations and Keith's anxieties about becoming a parent (not to mention the exquisite camera work, the clever turns-of-phrase dialogue and the ingenious casting of guest stars whose characters are not long for this world), while not freaking out about what the hell happened to Lisa.

All this to say, hoorah for the rerun -- in its place. It can bring a whole new level of appreciation to already beloved shows. AFTER we know what happens, that is.

Ciao Umberto!

Damp day? Who cares! Rain? Humidity? No worries. For the first time in my adult life, I found a hair product that defies moisture in the air. Praise the Lord for Umberto Giannini.

I stumbled upon his hair serum in Rite Aid on Broad Street. Don't ask me why I bought it ... because I had given up on ever finding a product that would work. My hair has gotten more and more frizzy over the years, and humid days are the WORST.

Thankfully, I took a chance, and I've never been so happy with a hair product, and I've tried 'em all. This magic elixer is called Sleek & Chic Blowdry Cream. But I'm also a fan of the Curl & Twirl balm for days when I want to leave the waves be.

Sadly, his webiste is annoying because it's all in flash ... and I haven't been able to find his full line of products in most of the usual places ... but he's worth digging for, trust me.

http://www.umbertogiannini.com

I'm all 4s

I just turned 40. They say it's the new 30, and I'm banking on it. My birthday is April 4 ... so I turned 40 on 4/4. And apparently the number 8 comes up in my numerology, so I'm all 4s like crazy. The woman who recently read my tarot cards (and my palm, and seemingly my mind) said that means, unlike most Arians, I crave structure, predictability and organization. This often gets in the way of my creativity and passion. And how.

She also promised, however, that this is the year things will begin to get easier for me ... including the fact that I'm done with picking the same scoundrel/villian boyfriend (her words) over and over again. She says I'll end up with a teacher who loves to read and is very stable, yet energetic. Bring him on, I say. I'm all fours.

Photo by Snado; art by Mr. Biggs.

Moments of Clarity

My mom is getting up in years, and is slowly, but surely losing her memory ... and her grasp on things in general. Like anyone, she has good days and bad days. Today I realized that she might not remember the beginning of a story if it takes too long to get to the end. Note to self: keep your stories short, Ev.

I took her out for a drive to see the spring flowers (she doesn't get out much these days). But she was more interested in seeing her old neighborhoods than she was in the foliage. It was really wonderful to hear the upbeat tone in her voice when she asked me to drive down the street we lived on when I was a kid, "just to see what's changed." I wondered if she would remember, but she noticed every detail that was different.

When we got back, she was clearly relieved to be home (going out always makes her a little nervous), but she was also visibly delighted and refreshed. That felt more like spring than any daffodil. Today was a good day.

I'm an addict

A few weekends ago, my dad and stepmom came to visit my new apartment. Just as they were leaving, my dad sat down at my computer and opened Spider Solitaire, "just to see what it would look like on a different machine."

I never even knew I had Spider Solitaire on my machine. Thanks a lot, Dad. Now I'm addicted. I play all the time. It's ridiculous.

The Same Game had me addicted several years ago. It's a little-known, very simple computer game that I couldn't possibly try to explain. Trust me, it's addictive. Why? Can anyone answer me???

The Good Doctors

About two years ago I had a series of health issues, none of which were serious, just annoying and painful. During the time it took to resolve each (there were 3), I spent lots of time with an endocrinologist, a podiatrist and a dentist.

The endocrinologist was quiet and scientific. No bedside manner to speak of ... which struck me as exactly what you want from someone who is sticking a needle into your neck.

The podiatrist was (and is, I still see him) a real cowboy. Charismatic as they come, pizazz to spare, tons of enthusiasm and a damn good surgeon. He was delighted by the presence of my camera at every appointment as I documented the removal of the bunion that had been my life's nemesis.

The dentist was a slight Asian man who performed what turned out to be the most painful procedure I've ever endured -- a tooth extraction and bridge installation. During the very medieval experience, I cursed at him, cried, gasped and probably even hit. Poor guy.

Fast forward two years, I was recently referred (by a new dentist) to an oral surgeon for another tooth extraction. Enter Dr. Warren Torchinsky. I never got a chance to experience his handiwork, because upon inspection of said tooth (and x-ray), Torchinsky rightfully questioned the necessity of the procedure and presented a yin to the yang of my new dentist's diagnosis.

Now, granted, the tooth is old. It's a baby tooth that never fell out because there's no adult tooth under it. And I just turned 40. It owes me nothing. That said, it causes me no pain or irritation. It's doing just fine for now. Torchinsky looked me in the eye and said, "your dentist isn't going to like that I'm disagreeing with him, but if you were my daughter, I wouldn't pull that tooth. Wait for it to fall out." (which, by the way, is exactly what my childhood dentist advised many years ago as I was headed off to college)

How's that for bedside manner? I'm grateful for his honesty, his candor and his sense of humor. It's so nice to have a few good doctors on my team!

Channeling Stevie Wonder

I'm not an American Idol fan. Let's get that out of the way up front. That said, I can get swept up in the latest craze just like anyone. I haven't tuned in yet this season (though I love what they're saying in the press about Howard Stern's crusade to get the least talented contestant to win) ... but if you watched last season (when Taylor Hicks won), Elliot Yamin stood out from the beginning. Alas (or maybe thankfully) he came in 3rd. The boy has pipes for DAYS and can sing circles around any AI alum back to Kelly Clarkson (who I also adore, so consider that when considering this soliloquy)...

Anyhoo, his record just came out, and even though it's much too R&B for my taste, there are moments on it where he is literally channeling the young Stevie Wonder. It's amazing. There is a milky rasp to his voice that makes me melt.

So if that intrigues you in the least, check him out. Songs to download if you just want a taste: track 1 "Movin' On"; track 3 "Find a Way" and track 11 "A Song for You" (his gutsy, signature cover on AI).