Red Sox, mmhmmm, yeah, very good


That’s the response you’ll get if you ask Jack who his favorite baseball team is. At the tender age of four, he can name at least seven “active” players. If you ask him who his favorite player is he’ll say David Ortiz, aka, #34, “Big Poppy”.

Back in 2004 when The Red Sox won the world series, Jack and I watched those games from our living room in New Haven while he sucked energetically on a Red Sox pacifier given to him by my parents. I saved it in his baby box.
Jack has been indoctrinated as a Red Sox fan by my folks, who by birth are Bostonians. I could honestly, to quote my mother, “give two flying figs” as to who wins the World Series, but for Jack’s sake, I hope, now that he’s a fan by choice, Jack gets to see a World Series that he can remember.

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Happiness is……..


A cold beer, a good book, a hot sudsy bathtub, and good tunes….. mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm……

Seriously, I had a pretty shitty week. I’ve spent far too much energy hunting down a check for a gig that I spent far too much energy organizing rehearsals for, and as a result of that missing check and the fact that I handed over a shitload of money that I worked my ass off to make to my new landlord, I’ve been REAL poor, like my checks were bouncing off the walls poor, and think I may have gone 24 hours without eating between yesterday morning and this afternoon… I also dealt with some real petty bullshit in a rehearsal this week that was so incredibly childish and immature it does not warrant describing, and I was called a slut while walking down my street. Kensington does not share the same appreciation for my love of fishnets.

I still haven’t figured out how to be superwoman yet. This week I had myself pretty convinced that I was a shitty Mom, a crap-tastic lover, a fair-weather friend, a scatterbrained sister, an invisible daughter and a dangerously close to being out-of-work singer. I was so down on myself that tonight, when an A train (which had no business being where I was, and confused a lot of passengers besides myself) appeared at the Broadway-Lafayette stop , I sort of wondered if I was supposed to throw myself in front of it….. Ok, not really.

At the end of the day, my bathtub doesn’t judge me, and it’s amazing how good you can make yourself feel when for one moment you are the only person whose needs you are responsible for…….

But ya know what? That’s the thing about relationships, whether they be mother-daughter, friend to friend or the harder kind…. it’s always easier to take care of your own emotional and physical needs because they’re your own. It’s quite another to undertake the well-being of a friend struggling with depression, an autistic son, or a relative struggling with cancer… But it’s a real lonely life when we don’t reach out and try to share in each others joys and sorrows.

So tonight, I retreat to my bathtub, and pull the covers up over my head, and remind myself that it’s okay to fail day in and day out at life, because I’m still in the game, and I refuse to meander mindlessly through the motions. Tomorrow’s another day, and I’ll still be playing.

First class lingerie

I just spotted a book of stamps in my makeup kit and have this vague memory of fashioning a strapless bra out of seven first class postage stamps to wear under my dress at a wedding in Maryland… I don't remember very much after that… I remember it was quite the topic of conversation at the reception, I definitely remember talking about my bra with a gay man, and I fear I may have flashed my contraption at him …. And I kind of remember it hurt when they came off…..
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Virginia ain’t fer Lovers

If you haven’t heard yet, read it here:

In a nutshell, on Tuesday, Hampton VA resident Daniel Riase was sentenced to five years prison time, with thirty years suspended, for crushing up the abortion drug RU-486 and giving it to his 19 year old girlfriend in a glass of milk. I-Shari Best told Riase of her pregnancy, and, well… he did not react well…. His first reaction was to yell and punch her in the stomach, and then he figured he’d play it cool, so he pretended to be excited about their future child….. and everything was all roses and butterflies until the milk incident last February.

Best, who at the time was 11 weeks pregnant, drank a glass of milk given to her by Riase and began bleeding, and was told at the Santara Clareplex Hospital that she had miscarried. Best didn’t think anything was up until she came across an e-mail receipt for the abortion pill misoprostol on Riase’s computer…..

Even more twisted than the boyfriends behavior, was the low, low, LOW strategy of attorney Ronald Smith, who tried to illicit sympathy from the jury on his client’s behalf by using the information that Best had already had two abortions……ummmmm…… I know my Law& Order from the 12 weeks I was on bedrest…….Objection?? Irrelevant???? Nice try.

Let’s make something clear here for douchebags like this attorney, or drooler’s like Riase…. in those other two cases, Best CHOSE to end her pregnancy…. not so much here. In fact, she had considered the abortion earlier, and had CHOSEN to go through with the pregnancy. Riase pleaded guilty in August to one count of aggravated malicious wounding leading to the involuntary termination of a woman’s pregnancy, and one count of adulterating a drink. It is ironically, one tragic moment where Pro-Choicers and Pro-Lifers just might see eye to eye.