And hope you have a wonderful 2017!
Hello, darlings! Well, another show has passed – this past Wednesday, 11/20 – and it was great, rollicking fun! If you missed it – how could you? – you can find it in the archives at BCTV.org
Now, there are times, however, when the very thing which gives the show its vitality, ie: our quick segmentation, which I would not give up for the world, disallows the full pursuit of a line of thought. This last episode contained one of those moments.
A caller responded to our segment on the dismal turnout for the recent elections. She stated that she no longer believed in voting, as she felt that the system was corrupt; there were no good candidates for whom to vote.
Certainly, one can argue that the system is broken and imperfect; that by the time one rises to a level of electability, there are too many things and people to which the candidate is beholden; that the money it takes to get elected is too great not to influence the candidate. Yes, I agree, as would, I imagine, any thinking person, that the system is far from ideal and in need of some serious TLC.
But, and here is what I would have liked to discuss with the caller, I do not understand how throwing up ones hands, withdrawing from participation in our Democracy, no matter how flawed, is a rational solution. How is doing nothing doing anything to fix the problem?
As a general rule: Broken things don’t fix themselves.
So indeed, I would truly like to understand the thought process that finds abdication of responsibility a viable, adult, answer to a real problem.
But enough about what I want. And truth be told, for years I wanted a pony. Then I got one and I couldn’t have cared less. What does that mean? Don’t buy me a pony.
So, shopping, yes. Thanksgiving! Stores will be open on Thanksgiving! My goodness; the horror! People should be with their families, not other people’s!
Well, in an ideal world, perhaps, yes. But I do have to wonder how many of those same deeply offended, gentle folk will be dining out for turkey day dinner. I’m betting quite a few. I believe that what could be wafting from out the restaurant kitchen, delicately scented with cinnamon and spice, is the delicious smell of hypocrisy.
Just know that you might catch sight of me dining out with dear friends on Thanksgiving day; you will not, however, catch me at Walmart…on Thanksgiving, or any other day. But no, I’ve nothing against shops being opening on Thanksgiving or any other holiday. Read into that what you will.
Darlings, I think I’ve poured enough fodder into the trough for one sitting. It’s time to cold cream my face and put myself to bed.
Happy Thanksgiving, darlings! And remember: No ponies!
Oh heavens to Gershwin… I have just removed my sleep mask and peered blearily at my alarm clock…I am horrified to discover that I have been out like a sailor with a weeks pay since the wee hours of New Year’s Day 2012!
How did I know the day from looking at the clock, you wonder, and your confusion would be indeed justified. Well, my sly little pusses, there you have me. I was condensing for dramatic effect! The truth is that upon waking and looking at the clock, I thought to myself, “Heavens, I’ve overslept! I’ve missed part of the Rose Bowl parade!”
So I hopped, or rather unfurled, out of bed, started a pot of extra-strong Joe, grabbed the paper…s. Paper…s? Was there a special extra New Year’s Day edition?, I wondered. Paper…s? And then it started to dawn that something was amiss. The Eagles had landed in too great an abundance. There, in my, now ink-stained, hands was the proof: I had been locked in Morpheus’s embrace since my New-Year’s-Eve-into-New-Year’s-Morn Bacchanalia had come to a crashing, and I realize now, unremembered, finis. Days, of – it now seems required – sleep-filled recovery, had passed! And here it is, Tuesday, and I have missed not only my beloved Rose Bowl Parade, but my Monday posting here!
And now, although there is no way to reset the clock and watch those millions of flowers roll by, I can write of my surprise, and chagrin, at having missed my posting day (and several others), but I live happily knowing that my dear friend Ellen will not mind splitting and sharing her day with me.
Yes, it is a Tuesday with double helping of the ladies of TWSS! And I am sure I speak for us all when I say, “Happy New Year! May you find new mountains to climb, and new comforts to enjoy! Happy 2012!” (Though I am still bitter about the parade…)
Happy New Year Darlings!
My goodness! 2011 is almost a memory and, if we are to believe the scuttlebutt, the last year of our lives is about to begin! I say, “I’ll drink to that!”
Let’s all resolve to enjoy this wacky trip toward the end of the world. Live each day with gusto; drink in every last drop of possibility from every moment that you are alive.
Let’s all work together to make this next year the best year of of lives! Why shouldn’t we? Optimism is so much more productive, and fun, than the alternative.
Be bold, exciting, be a positive force to be reckoned with in 2012!
Happy New Year!
Is it Monday? Already? Where have I been?
I’ll tell you where: Asleep. Asleep for three days. Well, not asleep for the entirety of these last three days, but much, much of them. “How is that possible,” you ask, and you would be right for asking.
As it turns out, all you have to do is make the mistake of not having turkey for Thanksgiving! I know, it is a sacrilege… But yes, I was taken for Thanksgiving dinner by some lovely friends. At a lovely restaurant, but not so lovely that I’ll name it.
It turns out that at this particular establishment, one can order things other than the holy bird. Who knew this was possible? Not I. And so I thought to myself, “Jane, you are in a holiday rut; you need to shake things up!” And so I did. Throwing caution to the wind, I ordered the prime rib! And it was delicious.
But it was not turkey.
And on the ride home, (my dear friends had graciously driven so that their dear Jane did not have to drive after dark) I began to feel that I had betrayed this most American of holidays. And I began to have a guilty hankering, or yen, well, really, a strong desire, urging, no, need, to make things right.
And so, after they had dropped me off at my little abode, waving bye-bye to the boys until they were ’round the corner; I hopped, perhaps “hopped” is a misnomer for what I did, but let me have my few delusions, into my darling Citroën 2CV, and off to the grocery store I went!
Once home, arms laden with the makings of holiday amends, I got to work. I mixed, I kneaded, I baked, and roasted! By 6 am the following morning my feast was complete, and I, well, I was a complete mess! But I felt so very redeemed.
After a short nap, I dug hungrily, and thankfully, into my after-holiday repas.
And there, my dears, is where the trouble began.
I ate, fell into a tryptophan haze, woke, ate some more, fell back into my tryp-snooze..woke, ate, snoozed. And there it was, from Friday until just moments ago: wake, eat, tryp, wake, eat, tryp, wake, eat…and on.
And here it is, Monday; the turkey, and all the fixin’s are gone. Yes, in the last three days I’ve eaten an entire 24 pound turkey and its corresponding side dishes! I’ve been a fiend, alternately eating, then sleeping. I’ve wasted an entire weekend in a chemically, and gluttony, induced semi-wasteland. But now, I’m awake. It is a new day. I am a new woman.
And I’ve learned never, never, to eat steak on Thanksgiving.
I hope you all had a safe, happy, and love-filled holiday!
Hello, my dear little chipmunks!
I thought it would be nice, if, wholly, unoriginal, to use this week’s space giving thanks. Now I would like to think that, on a daily basis, I am a fairly thanks-giving woman. But even I am self-aware enough to know that days, weeks, well, to be truthful, sometimes even years, go by, wherein I haven’t though beyond my own personal realm. And so, the day of thanks and gluttony fast approaching…
First and foremost, I thank my mother. While not, by any means, a warm woman, she would have done anything to see me grow and thrive. She lives on in my heart, and also on a plaque in Poughkeepsie, New York.
Thanks to family, whether real, acquired, or extended. Family is not necessarily what you were born with, it is what you make, and I am grateful to have created the best family for which one could wish.
Thank you to loyal friends: What would this world be without you? The support and love, laughs and tears, shared with you…the value is immeasurable.
Also thanks to worthy foes, who in trying to tear down, only manage to build up. No mettle is truly tested and proved inviolable without strong opposition.
Thanks to whatever higher power one believes in, and if that is none, then to yourself. Creation is magic, whatever the source.
Thanks to the cosmetics industry, which has kept me looking relatively
young, youthful, handsome, well into my later years. While it was a tiny emotional earthquake the day I realized that it was necessary to make the leap away from light-coverage foundation, I am thankful that full-coverage was there to catch me on the other side of that particular crevasse.
I am thankful for the Arts, and entertainment in all forms. My life would never have been possible, well, the life I wound up leading, at any rate, without the Arts. They helped me escape my humble beginnings in Poughkeepsie. Took me to places of which a young girl, and then older woman, could only dream! Alas, they were also the cause of my first, and lasting, brush with the disillusionment and rancor that love can bring. But I shan’t think of that at the moment; I’m happy!
Taking a side path for a moment…Speaking of entertainment, I, yes I, am a semi-fan of the television show The X-Factor; not a big fan, mind you, but I watch. If I may be allowed to exorcize some of the rancor that has come flashing back into my mind by merely alluding to my late husband above, and I hope, below: I do not at all like that fellow who hosts. He dampens every moment he is onscreen. I am eagerly awaiting the episode in which he will be voted off.
But I do love that little Chris Rene. He reminds me of a young Tom Waits, whom I adore. I remember sitting with him, Tom, not Chris, in a less than reputable boîte in, if memory serves, Oklahoma; what can one do, one takes jobs, and sustenance, wherever one may. I remember I lifted a glass to him and said, “Oh, Tom, there will never again be anyone like you!” To which he mumbled something in reply. But I was wrong: I predict that Mr. Rene will have a long career singing honestly of life in America. There is nothing better than a good storyteller…well, perhaps a well-made Manhattan.
One more step on this path of digression. I cannot wait for Hugo to be released; what a visually stunning treat to the eyes those trailers have been!
And now stepping trippingly back onto the main path. I am very thankful for this lovely group of women with whom I find myself in such close company. “In no particular order,” as that vapid man from the X-Factor would say: Ellen, Sheila, Christina, and Martha, a girl couldn’t ask for a better group with which to share time and bandwidth.
And finally: To life. No, it is not always easy, never predictable, and ofttimes somewhat frightening, but my goodness, what a wonderful ride it continues to be.
Be safe in your travels, be they down the path, across the country, or from room to room.
Thanks and Love to you, too,