It's All Over But the Napping

Well, my work is done.

After spending 30 hours of the last 48 creating, working, and then tearing down the magic known as my older son's Dry After Grad Extravanganza, it's all over (except for the Committee's post-mortem meeting, which I'm sure will provide a plethora of posts all on its own...).

A fun, alcohol-free time was had by all (although there were times I could have used a nice mimosa or 5), as 200 students were, in essence, incarcerated in their school from 1 - 5 AM.

They were then released back into the wild where they can once again wreak their own personal brand of havoc.

(Nah- they really are a lovely bunch of students - I see them and don't despair quite as much for my future in a retirement facility...).

What all this means is that after some more judicious napping today, I'll be able to get back to tackling some more of the fabulous suggestions I have received in my (e) mail bag .

Woot!

Until then, With Affection and Discreet Yawning,
The Baroness von B

About a Girl

Firstly, let me thank you all for your ever-wonderful suggestions. I will endeavour to get to them after this coming weekend. It's my oldest's High School Grad Dinner/Dance/After Party, and as part of the sinking ship known as a "Committee", I'm committed (oh, the irony) to making all the magic happen. I'm slammed for time, and at this point, energy.

But this post has been rolling around in my head while I've been making glitter stars and sparkly ceiling pendants.

It trumps all else right now, and I must roll it out and onto the computer. Y'all know how that goes, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I've been thinking lately about a movie.

"About a Boy".

It's based on a best-selling novel by Nick Hornby. I believe the author also had a hand in the screenplay as well.

The main character, Will Freeman, is played by Hugh Grant. Part of the reason I liked the movie so much was that this character, while charming on the surface, was a little against character for old Hugh. It was refreshing.

I also liked the clever writing. Grant's character, financially comfortable enough off that he doesn't have to work, divides his day into "units" (I think they're 1/2 hour increments - I could be wrong. Didn't have time to research this - sue me).

For example, there could be 4 units used for what he refers to as "web-based research" (surfing for porn), 2 units for "exercise" (shooting pool), or 1 unit for grooming.

I thought this was ingenious, this parcelling of time.

That was until I was diagnosed with cancer a couple of summers ago.

In Will Freeman time, I had my surgery (14 units) and recovery time (240 units hospital time, 1008 units home time).

Then came chemotherapy - a very brief 1.5 unit, once a month for 5 months/7200 units (we won't count the first month - it kinda sucked, and defied logic, time and likeability).

And now, I have come to realize, after my latest visit with my oncologist, that I live my life - not in hourly, day-to-day units - but, instead, in 3 month units.

For the next 4 years, my life will be lived from one 3 month unit to the next.

Part One of each unit consists of seeing the oncologist, of steeling myself up to arise from the reception area chair when my name is called, of calming my stomach back down from my throat to where it belongs, of willing my legs to move, one in front of the other, to walking through his office door, of smelling the air, anticipating any possibility, of trying to scan his face for any sign of a problem before he can say anything. This part concludes with a flooding of endorphins and weakening of knees upon hearing that everything looks good for this visit.

Part Two is the most bearable portion of the unit. Life floats along, ticketty-boo, and my only reminder of my 4 year plan and why I have a 4 year plan consists of acknowledging that I must get another blood test soon, and listen to the technician carp once again about how hard it is to find a vein, blah, blah, blah.

Part Three consists of the dark two weeks preceding the next appointment. Every thought can turn black on a dime, every emotion is just a hair's breadth from the surface, every unusual occurance becomes an omen, every sweet moment has a tinge of the bittersweet. The critically-panned "What If Scenario Reel" begins its unspooling, and I both treasure and loathe every moment leading up to the next appointment.

And so it will go, for 4 more years.

And if, for some reason, you think that I'm ungrateful for the gift of my life - I beg you to please not misunderstand.

I know how lucky I am. I have read the colon cancer forums in horror as people begin to document their decline, as some receive news where there is no silver lining, no upside.

In my heart, I know I am blessed to be alive.

Just try telling that to my head. And just try thinking about living in 3 month units.

It's not so charming after all.

Mosaic du Moi

So, I had a little bit of time on my hands this afternoon (think minutes, people, not hours).

And I heard via the blog-vine (through Mental P Mama, through The Cheek of God, through the oh-so-lovely Flutter), that this was a fun, easy and quick thing to do.

I can now verify that this was a, b, & c.

Here’s how it works . . .

• Answer each of the questions below.
• Surf over to Flickr and type your answers (one at a time) into the search bar.
• From the choice of pictures shown only on the front page, click on the one that moves you.
• Once the page with your picture opens, copy the URL.
• Surf over to the Mosaic Maker, set up your mosaic, and enter your URLs.
• Click “Create!”

The Questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you attend?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. Where would you go on your dream vacation?
8. What is your favorite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. Choose one word to describe you?
12. Your Flickr name?(this one ended up being a bit obtuse; those in the know will eventually figure it out...)
    

Brother, Can You Spare a Word?

So, recently the Baroness asked for some suggestions, as I needed to have about 21 days of inspiration.

I received 4. If I take a moment to speed-dial my accountant Sir Pinky McNubbin (I don't deal with numbers), he says I need 14.5 more ideas (this could explain I always have problems at the ATM).

Delurk, y'all, & help me out!

It could be a topic - it could be a word (I'm thinking "toast").

All I ask is no sex, politics or religion.

Best leave those to the experts.

Which is clearly not me.

Forum #4 - Women of Influence

Influence.

"An ethereal fluid held to flow from the stars and to affect the actions of humans"

"An emanation of spiritual or moral force"

The lovely Mental P. Mama from The Mental Pause Chronicles came up with the lovely suggestion:
"Tell us who the most influential woman in your life was/is. And not a close relative! I love these inspirational stories. "

Wow. A rather loaded question, that.

I've been mulling this for a few days now, and think I have an answer. And, in true Baroness fashion - it shan't be just one answer. I don't want to leave anyone out.

And, just to clear up any preconceived ideas - my woman of influence isn't her.

And definitely not her.

Not that there's anything wrong with them. They just didn't fit with me personally.

I have to say that the proviso that threw me for a loop here was the "and not a close relative". Because, hands down that would have been my amazing mom.

I would imagine, though, if I were to scroll through the list of women in my life, I would have to say that there are a great deal whose spirits have flown in an ethereal manner, down from the stars and directly into my heart.

There was my uncle's girlfriend Marina, who treated me not as some bothersome teenager but as a peer. She told me that I could do anything that I wanted to. I suppose I could have looked at it as yet another adult platitude, but she said it with such conviction and passion, I had no choice but to believe her.

And, to some degree, she has been right.

Whenever I face adversity, I just fall back to that evening, walking along the train tracks at dusk, when she spoke those words. I had never had anyone say something so positive and personal to me in my life to that point. It was a pivotal moment. That single phrase resonated through to my very core.

In my writing, there are two very prevalent influences - and I initially had my blog subtitle as a loving nod to both of them - Baroness von Bloggenschtern - the love child of Erma Bombeck and Fran Lebowitz. If, you know, Erma liked women, and Fran would have ever considered conception.

I began reading Erma from an early age. I liked her voice, and I liked her realistic portrait of a 20th century family. She managed to be classy and down to earth at the same time.

As for Miss Fran, I read Metropolitan Life as an early adult, and it slayed me. Everything about her writing appealed to me. Ever the cool NY urbanite. So sardonic. So wry. So the kind of writer I wanted to be (minus all the smoking - asthma, ya know?)

Revisiting the book a few years ago, it still holds the same magical appeal.

I would be remiss if I did not mention the spiritual and moral forces I call my friends and their influences on me. They are all, to the one, graceful as ballerinas in their daily rounds, and to me appear to create a wondrous dance around all the obstacles in their lives. I can't imagine the person I would be without having the privilege of knowing and observing them.

My friend Darcy, who with her genius and wild creativity, fills my silly bucket to overflowing, and shows me how to remain exquisitely grounded, yet still fly like a rubber chicken.

My friend Jery, the original Greenster - green long before ecological matters became the vogue - some of the smallest carbon footprints I've ever seen. She gave me a glimpse into what adult life should be like, and how to balance work and enjoyment. She's practical and taught me the art of being a raconteur. One of the best ever.

My friend Patty. She is my uber-mentor. Anything I'm facing, she has been there, done that, all with grace and compassion. She rarely does the "I Told you so" dance, and if she does, it's set to either polka music or Dean Martin. I am constantly emulating her people skills (of which her talents are boundless) - and guess what? Every time I have a "What Would Patty Do?" moment, and react accordingly, things always, always, always work out.

Kathe. She is the embodiment of everything a friend should be, and has opened my eyes to unselfish giving. Through her words and actions, she has shown me countless times what to do, when to do it, and how to always do it with love and heart.

Cathy. Here is a woman who influences me greatly, just by my watching her go about her daily rounds. Frequently, she is the eye of the storm, and manages to gracefully move through with conviction, compassion, and unfailing empathy. She constantly puts others' needs above her own, and does so in the most immaculate way I have ever seen. She's a true wonder, that one.

Sue. Influences the way I look at my community, my neighborhood, my family. Has taught me to look for treasures in my own back yard.

Jean. One of the most sensible people I have ever met in my life, and possesses (I believe) most of the world's common sense. She's an expert in damn well near everything, and if I were ever lost in the woods, I'd want her with me.

Anna. Bar none, one of the most blazingly, terrifyingly, intelligent woman I have ever met. I will always aspire to match her, but I don't have a chance.

I'm sure I'll hear from the ones I've missed. Sorry, misses - I'm working on decaf today, so not all the cylinders are firing. You know I love you. Blame it on the chemo...

Just as I can see at least one redeeming quality in every movie I watch, I am constantly amazed and influenced by the real-life movies of every woman I have the pleasure to know.

Each one has their story, and their beauty and their strength, and it is the learning from these which I am so grateful for, every damn day. It is this which influences me, spiritually and morally.

And all of you? Who are your women of influence, and why?

Forum #3 - What Did(Do) I Want to Be When(If) I Grew(Grow)Up

Thanks to the oh-so-talented and lovely Countess Momma over at Poetic License, I have been asked to talk about the one topic that has dogged me my entire life; I am faced yet again with the infernal eternal question, the one I meditate on daily. My life's great mystery.

What on earth do I want to be when I grow up?

Perhaps it is best to first look at this through the eyes of a much younger Baroness. What did I want to be, wa-a-a-a-a-y back, when I grew up?

It is important to note here that the problem has historically always been a complete lack of focus. I wanted to be many things (and I still do).

In kindergarten, for example, I wanted to be a doctor. So much so, that when we had our end-of-year "Career Day" presentation for our parents (which is so darling, by the way - foisting career choices onto 5 year olds...), and when I found out that I would be a nurse to Joanne's doctor, I went apoplectic.

At that point, I should have considered law, as I presented (what I, at least, perceived to be) a cold, hard, and well-observed truth that would rival any adult's. Joanne, in my estimation, was a complete idiot. There was no way on earth that she would have the drive and determination to EVER become a doctor. Yet the fabulous doctor's bag was handed to her on a silver platter. Such a travesty.

Today, for all I know, Joanne is the chief surgeon at John Hopkins.

But back then. Ah, back then. I wanted to be the doctor, dammit.

Then there was my arts phase. I did tap-dancing. Baton-twirling. Both of which, I am sure, instilled in me my love of all things shiny. But, as I may have mentioned previously, I am hopelessly unco-ordinated, and so in no way, shape or form would I ever be the superstar of any of these disciplines.

I was a journeyman (journeychild?) at best, filling out the numbers so the line looked complete. (Let me take the opportunity to apologize to my classmates for any ongoing memory losses or personaltity quirks that may have resulted from errant batons and their subsequent head traumas)

As an only child, I was often left to my own devices for self-entertainment. I loved to sing, and this passion was indulged by my parents with the gifts of a portable record player and many, many records. Most were 45's (with their own holder), some were albums.

One of my favorites was the Mary Poppins soundtrack , and after listening to the album over and over and over again, day after day after day, I decided it was time.

Time to put on my own one-woman show. As an homage, as it were, to Julie Andrews (could I possibly sound more like David Sedaris right here?).

I'm not sure exactly how I persuaded my neighborhood compatriots to come and watch this off-off Broadway production, but they did.

And were highly underwhelmed. Which puzzled me.

Because I thought I rocked it.

And I didn't.

I wholly blame Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman. Bastards. Because it sure had nothing to do with me.

Fast forward to early high school. I am in love with tennis star Bjorn Borg. How will I ever meet him, I wonder? Well, of course! I, too, will become a tennis phenomenon, will play mixed doubles with him at Wimbledon, will dance with him at the winner's dinner, make him fall in love with me, and we'll have achingly beautiful Swedish-Canadian babies, with blonde hair and close-set Mediterranean blue eyes.

One problem.

Did I mention the lack of co-ordination?

Post-high school. I revisit the doctor thing again in my brief foray into university. I come to realize that interns do not get a lot of sleep. I like a lot of sleep. There is no way this will work.

Then there's the fashion stream. I consider going to Fashion Merchandising School in Florida (the ad is in the back of a Seventeen magazine - it must be legitimate). Then I consider leaving the home where I am the awkward yet essential third edge of an unpleasant family dynamic. If I left, what would happen? The triangle would collapse.

Scrap that idea.

Then there is venturing into the world of modelling. A tippy-toe in over the edge, a brief (yet well-renumerated) television appearance, then a toe out. Enough of that. I cannot live on steamed carrots and gum.

I realize at this point that I need some sort of post-secondary training to pay the bills (for which I, ironically, take out student loans). I take a Chemical Sciences course - again with the lab coats - in Physical Metallurgy. Why? There are no smelters on this side of the country, we do not have any huge steel manufacturers here. I guess it was to prove to myself that I could.

And I did get pseudo-related jobs after that. Well-paying, but ultimately unsatisfying.

Which leads me back, once again, to the dread career path. To find the one thing I love to do, and as they say, the money will follow.

The path which I sometimes stay on, but most ofter meander off of.

Because I love to meander - is there money in that?

Forum #2 - Summer Reading

On average, the Baroness polishes off a book a week. I've always been a voracious reader. These past few months, though, and the upcoming few weeks see me in whirling dervish mode.

So, for once, I will actually have a summer reading pile.

Some of these sad babies have sat there, patiently, for quite some time. To them, I whisper a sacred promise - "I'll get to you soon..."

The lovely Countess iPost - check her out both here and here - suggested that I share my summer reading list. It's not particularly ambitious, but I always have a few series on the go that I pick up as I can.

Here we go:

Just read:

1. The 6th Target, James Patterson and Maxine Pietro
What one usually expects from the Women's Murder Club series. And sometimes, predictable is ok, too.

2. The Good Husband of Zebra Drive, Alexander McCall Smith
Oh, how I love, love, LOVE this series of his - the flip side, the antithesis of the Women's Murder Club is Smith's Number 1 Ladies' Detective Agency.

Every time I read about Precious Ramotswe, Mma Makutsi, and JLB Matekoni and their friends and associates, I am calm and peaceful. Life moves at a pretty mellow pace in Botswana, and I greedily rip through these faster than I should, and then am sad that there is not another one waiting.

This prolific writer has 3 sets of series - this one, The Sunday Philosopher's series, and the 44 Scotland Yard series. I love each one.

3. The Secret Life of Bees and The Mermaid Chair, Sue Monk Kidd
I found the SLOB rivetting and powerful; a testement to the power of women. The Mermaid Chair? Meh. Kind of like "The Thornbirds" on a island.

On Deck:

1. Daniel Isn't Talking, Marty Leimbach
The von B's know many families within our community that are affected by children with autism. I read a glowing review on this and picked it up awhile ago.

2. The Almost Moon, Alice Sebold
The Lovely Bones was a book that I hadn't picked out at all; it was foisted on me by a friend at a time when I had no time for reading. But, once I finished the first paragraph, I was hooked and could not put it down. I'm hoping this will be similar.

3. A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini
I keep putting this off, I don't know why. Perhaps because The Kite Runner was so amazing.

4. Foreskin's Lament, Shalom Auslander
Another book review that intriuged me - this book tells the history of a man who grew up in a strict Orthodox Jewish household, all his childhood memories flooding to the forefront when considering the circumcision of his soon to be born son.

That's it - pretty sad, really. Especially considering yesterday's extensive list. But I'm fairly picky about my reading.

And you? What's on deck for you, and why?

Forum #1 - Movies I Have Loved

Hello. My name is Baroness, and I'm a movie whore.

Hello, Baroness.

The oh-so-lovely Countess AG over at Is My Cape Fluttering? suggested that I talk about my favorite movies - the ones I keep watching over and over.

While on the surface this should be a fairly straightforward request, it is indeed challenging to me. Because, for the most part - I love almost all movies that I see, and can find some redeeming quality in each and every one. Thus sunketh any possible foray into being a movie critic.

It might be a line, a look, an exquisite performance in a ho-hum storyline. It might be the quality of the light or the cinematography.

Usually, though, it's the humour. And may I explain here (note here that I did not say "apologize") that my gut laughs, by and large, come from the lowbrow.

Without further ado, a smattering of my lovelies and some justifications:

1. Zoolander. Hands down. Having spent some time in the modeling world a hundred lifetimes ago, I am afraid to say that Ben Stiller's portrayal of Derek Z. is not so far off the mark. Ah, where do I begin? Derek's roommates? Jacobim? The David Duchovney cameo?

Favorite lines:
"That Hansel - he's so hot right now"
"What is this? A Center for Ants?"
" Mer-man, Pop. Mer-MAN!"
"Is everyone here taking crazy pills?"

2. Orange County. Colin Hanks is that delicious apple who has not fallen far from the tree. And Jack Black? Whoa. Love his commitment to his character and his predilection for walking around in his tighty whiteys with no modesty whatsoever. John Lithgow. Catherine O'Hara.

Favorite line:
"Got any beer, Coyote Ugly?"

3. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Growing up in Canada, we were brought up with many BBC imports on television, and I enjoyed the absurdity of it all from a wa-a-a-ay back. I must have seen this 30 times as a teen, and our recent attendance of Spamalot during the 20-year-anniversary-renew-our-vows-at-a-Las-Vega-drive-through-wedding-chapel-weekend made me fall in love with it all over again. Pure nostalgia.

4. Malibu's Most Wanted. While I did not love Jamie Kennedy on his tv show, I found this to be an amazing send-up on all of those foolish little rich white boys who seem to feel the need to hike down their pants and get their (idea of) "Black Experience" on. Plus, I saw Ryan O'Neal and Bo Derek in a light I hadn't before.

5. Amelie. Charming. Sweet. French. And above all, quirky. What's not to love? Oh, and the gnome schtick? Killer.

6. Elizabethtown. Have I ever told you how for some cougar-ish reason, I find Orlando Bloom absolutely beautiful? My kids tell me that I should get one of those hairless cats, call it Orlando, and be done with it. This movie is chock-full of appeal for me - good music, Susan Sarandon as a nutjob, a all-night phone call, dealing with relatives, death. There is just something about the end road trip that makes me incredibly wistful.

7. Pulp Fiction. Quentin Tarantino at his absolute best. And, of course, the coolest man in the world, Samuel L. Jackson. Gory, yes, but somehow within the context of it all, not as gratuitous as you might think. I love that it presented a world (I'm hoping accurate) that most of us would never in a million years find ourselves a part of.

8. So I Married An Axe Murderer. Mike Myers, pre all the Austin Powers explosion craziness. Cool, sweet, extremely funny. And apparently shot just down the block from my blend Write Procrastinator's house in San Francisco. Small world, non?

9. Raising Arizona. Coen Brothers. Holly Hunter. Need I say more?

10. Withnail and I. Bizarre, drug-and-booze addled. An 70's-ish road movie in the English countryside. With Richard E. Grant, whom I love (and have seen in real life, from afar. Sigh. Another hairless Englishman).

11. Babe. The original. Clever, sweet, metaphorical. A kid's movie I was only too happy to sit and watch over and over.

12. Under the Tuscan Sun. The golden tones of this whole movie are stunning to me. It's sweet and charming, and anytime I'm feeling a little blue, I pop it in and grab my chenille blankie. And Oh. I love Sandra Oh.

13. Rivers and Tides. A documentary which is stunningly quiet and beautiful about an artist with such vision. Truly inspirational.

14. Monsoon Wedding. One of the loveliest love scenes I have ever seen. It just about broke my heart with its simple beauty.

15. Bull Durham. A nod to the Baron, and to all things baseball. Kevin Costner at his hunky best, and a very gawky Tim Robbins. Loved the mid-game discussion at the pitcher's mound.

So, there's but a few.

Eclectic, but that's just me... Thanks again to AG for the great suggestion.

Tomorrow: Reading Material.

Did I Happen to Mention - I Have a Theme Song!

The Baroness is so, so blessed with an amazing group of friends.

One of my darlings, the Good Countess KR, heard this fellow interviewed on CBC radio (our Canadian equivalent of NPR), and decided that I need a theme song to accompany my blog page.

Now, I'm still a little bit of a techno-peasant, so this is the best I could figure out, but I just COULD NOT possibly wait another nano-second to share this with you! Eeeek. So excited.

Go here
for the music (just think - you could load it on your iPod!).

And here are the faboo lyrics:

when life gets me down, i don't care, it's just
coming home from a vacation seems meritless
traveling the world is really not so perilous
when you're shelley, aka the baroness!

her literary tastes are a little scary
she'll sit a very long time with obituaries
she likes kitsch and roosters, and shoes
and bill and her 2 boys in cahoots with zeus

so when life gets me down, i don't care, it's just
coming home from a vacation seems meritless
traveling the world is really not so perilous
when you're shelley, aka the baroness!

let me see your beautiful smile, there it is
i'm green with envy, like some asparagus
traveling the world is really not so perilous
when you're shelley, aka the baroness!

Send Andrew a request - he is a total sweetheart. And did I mention - genius? Who else could rhyme "perilous" and "asparagus" - and make it work?

Want your own theme song? Back off, honey babies - this one's mine. And fact number 71 about the Baroness?

I don't share.

Now everybody polka!!

A Funny Thing Happened on the way to the Forum

Forum.

According to my old pals Mr. Merriam and Mr. Webster, this can be defined as :

a medium (as a newspaper or online service) of open discussion or expression of ideas

Here's the connundrum, dear blends o' mine.

I am totally slammed for time between now and the end of the month. But I do not want to stop posting. My mind is filled with so much stuff, it's about to blow off the top of my head. Yeah, yeah - I know you've heard this sort of thing before. But seriously. Top of my head. Off. Yuck.
And yet more cleaning to do.

So, while I was working off some of my excess energy on the treadmill (hey, it works on the Dog Whisperer...), I had an epiphany of sorts.

Here's where the Kinda-Forum fits in. I need 21 ideas. Some days, I might have the good fortune of 21 readers (give or take 18). It seems like a match made in blogosphere heaven.

Comment me an idea - good, bad or irksome - and I will either rant on it or try to be mildly amusing about it. I have no prizes, other than a loving credit and link to your page and my deepest gratitude.

Let's not have it too controversial - i.e. please stay away from the anathema of dinner conversations - sex, religion, politics. These make me break out in a rash, and then typing becomes rather tricky.

Other than that - it's a pretty open field, non?

Commitment

I am beginning to become hesitant in sending along things that I receive in my civilian e-mail; more often than not, it's old news, and all of you savvy, enlightened readers have heard it all before.

I am also completely opposed to those annoying e-chain-mails. You know the ones - the ones that make you want to burn your computer, change your name, sever all ties and go live in a cave. The ones where you must send this message to "x" people in "y" minutes, or suffer wrath "z". Math variables and emotional blackmail just do not seem appealing to me.

However.

This one got to me. And the request? "Make this Video Go Around the World". Between YouTube and the Great Big Blogosphere, this should be able to happen quite easily.

So, watch.

Or don't. Pestilence, friendlessness, misery - none will befall you if you choose not to look. I promise you.

But I will promise you this - should you decide to click away, you will have missed the opportunity to hear an eloquent young woman beautifully present her case, and keep a room of adults captivated and moved for 6 minutes.





"Raised in Vancouver and Toronto, Severn Cullis-Suzuki has been camping and hiking all her life. When she was 9 she started the Environmental Children's Organization (ECO), a small group of children committed to learning and teaching other kids about environmental issues. They were successful in many projects before 1992, when they raised enough money to go to the UN's Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro. Their aim was to remind the decision-makers of who their actions or inactions would ultimately affect. The goal was reached when 12 yr old Severn closed a Plenary Session with a powerful speech that received a standing ovation."

The Fascinating Middle of Point A & Point B

Due in part to his genetic makeup, and due in part to the years and years of necessary time management, The Baron is VERY aware of time.

Of both its flexibility and of its restraints. To him, it is an encapsulation, with definite boundaries.

The Baroness, on the other hand, finds time to be somewhat fluid. It comes, it goes. Sure, there are times when arrivals or departures are non-negotiable. But, for the most part, an extra minute here, a few less minutes there - it all balances out in the end.

Every so often, when the planets align just so, there is an event which both Mr. & Mrs. von B must attend. And every so often, their two time philosophies, er, clash. Badly.

Case in point. This last weekend. The vonBloggenschtern clan were on their way to a Seattle Mariners baseball game.

There is a gauntlet of vendors that one must run, in between the parking lot and the stadium. Hot dogs, corn dogs, team clothing, young girls selling chocolate bars for their church youth groups, dogs in sunglasses.

Now, on any other given day, the Baron would be delighted to stroll. To lollygag. To meander. But not this day. This was one of those time constraints we discussed earlier. As any dyed-in-the-wool baseball oficianado knows, one must be there at the scheduled start of the game.

I know this, too. I also know how important this factum is to the Baron.

But.

But.

Right smack dab in the middle of the promenade we were speed-walking through, was a middle-aged gentleman sitting on a chair.

It took a few seconds to process, after passing him like a hurricane, but it dawned on me that he was not only sitting there - he was playing an accordian.

An accordian, people. And we all know how the Baroness feels about all things polka.

So began the rending of the time philosophies. For I refused to breeze past this opportunity. I had to say something. I had to donate some of this strange monopoly money (have you Americans never heard of color?) into his accordian case. I had to tell him how wonderful he was, and how great it was that he was here, playing such cheery music to pipe us in to the game.

This action, I must tell you, was not a popular one. The rest of the clan, sensing they were suddenly a member short, stopped dead in their tracks. I got the laser-death ray-glare.

"But it's an accordian, honey!!!" I pleaded. "An ACCORDIAN!!".

He understood. So he stopped.

And then, I started to talk to this fine fellow - Mr. Greg Blackstock.

He did not understand anymore.

But at this point, I did not care. Time became fluid again, and I knew that the few moments that I took to connect with this gentleman would be well worth it, and could be made up for later. All would balance out.

Greg shook my hand, and asked for my name. I told him. "Hello, Baroness", said he. The companion he was with said gently to him, "Greg - when you meet someone and ask for their name, you should give them your name, too". It now was apparent that while was Greg an amazing accordianist, he was also struggling a little with his social cues. His companion was there to smooth out the rough edges a little.

It turns out that Greg Blackstock is an autistic savant. He was born in Seattle, and has quite a remarkable history. Not only is he a musician, he is an artist as well, and is represented by The Garde Rail Gallery (www.garde-rail.com). On his business card, he categorizes himself as an "Outside Artist" and Street Accordianist.

But he is so much more than that. And on that cloudy Saturday when time seemed to be of the essence, I'm so very glad that I broke the constraints. Just for a moment.

It will always balance out in the end.

Thoughtful Thursday

A dear friend of the Baroness' was in town for the last few days, clearing out the contents of her mother-in-law's assisted living apartment; the mother-in-law has, in recent weeks, taken a turn and will no longer be in a condition to have much independence anymore.

I helped out the little I could - I think I was there mostly for emotional support.

This was a difficult scenario to revisit - I've had the task of clearing out both of my parent's apartments. And while I no longer had to belabor every choice, every plate, every family chatchka, just the boxing away of someone's possessions lays a heaviness on my heart.

I know, I know - they're just things. But they are also symbols of that person - the cross-stitch wall-hanging they loving worked on for weeks on end, the mug they bought on a well-earned vacation that brought them such happiness, the closet organizer that they finally chose to bring some order to their lives. Each is a revelatory key to that person's puzzle, and now the puzzle pieces are being put back in a box.

For today's post, I spent the better part of last night searching for the right something - I shied away from what I thought might be the obvious, or the glaringly metaphoric - and found this little gem.

It's bittersweet yet quite beautiful -

"The Waking"
by Theodore Roethke (American, 1908-1963)

I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.

We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.

Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.

Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me; so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.

This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Go where you will today, dear readers, and continue to lay out those pieces so that your puzzle will be completed before it's tucked away.

Today's Letters: S,N,L & (von) B

*(Non)Spoiler Alert: At some point during this post, I will be referring to an inconsequential scene from "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull" movie. So, if you:

a) haven't seen the movie yet and are intending to,
b) are an Indy oficianado/George Lucas stalker, or
c) are worried that I am a pathological liar, DO NOT proceed past the middle of this post.
You have been warned.

Two things you must know about the von Bloggenschtern children.

Number one. They are, in this completely impartial mother's estimation, 2 of the insane-liest funny people on earth. Really. They amuse me to no end (and as a Baroness - I am not easily amused).

Number two. In order to nourish this humour and to keep it strong and thriving, they have been raised on a steady diet of the tv and movies that the Baron and I deem to be worthy of taking up space in their brains' culture center. Sure, there's a lot of stuff in there that we were in no way responsible for, but in the main, we've shown them the way.

Of the many shows we watch, the one with the most longevity is Saturday Night Live. Both the Baron and I have been viewers for many, many years. I myself lapsed a little in the Charles Rocket years, but the Baron has remained steadfast (one word here : sucKAH!).

And, in raising children, one of the coolest things for me is patiently sitting on the sidelines, watching them discover something (you already know is) great for themselves. SNL has become quite a vonB bonding experience, and has produced many family catchphrases that my very funny sons manage to trot out at just the appropriate moments. Hilarity then ensues.

What's with this rambling preamble?

To set the scene for 2 proud parenting humour moments that happened this last weekend:

Scene 1: Goldberg's Deli, Bellevue Factoria Mall

The von B's have tried valiantly to finish their huge American food portions. But there is just one lox and bagel that cannot, in any terms, be shoved down anyone's pie hole. We are sated, people.
So our lovely waitress comes by, and the Baron asks her if she could put the bagel in a bag to go.

Well, says our waitress, we don't have any bags - how about a box?

Which leads our sons to start singing their version of "Lox in a Box", a take-off of the Justin Timberlake/Andy Samberg song from a recent SNL Digital Short:





We laughed. We cried. We bought the hot mustard.

Scene 2: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull movie

In one very somber scene, Indy is packing up some things, and the camera pans across the room. Across some significant artifacts from the past, across his desk, festooned with personal photos.

It stops right in front of a picture of Sean Connery, who at one point played Henry Jones, Indy's father.

Do the von B's let this poignant moment go? Hellz, no.

In full view of my family, I shake my fist at the screen, and under my breath mutter,

"TREBEK!!".

We all shake with the giggles, and are quickly marginalized by the rest of the theatre-goers as the lunatic backwoods Canadian family.

Between gasping for air between guffaws, I kvell over the coolness that is my children. On the days they rock, they RAWK.

For those of you not familiar with the SNL-contrived rivalry between Sean Connery and Alex Trebek, enjoy:

A Breath of Fresh Air

To quote the great Colonel John "Hannibal" Smith, oh how the Baroness "loves it when a plan comes together".

If you have be reading this post for a while, you will recall I mention on various occasions how much I love the whole community aspect of the blogosphere - within what appears to be the confines of these monitors and keyboards lies the power to do anything. To connect. To enrich. To enbolden. To enhance.

Imagine my delight, then, when it was arranged that, whilst in Seattle this past weekend, as the rest of the von Bloggenschern clan roamed the malls, the Baroness would have the good fortune to meet up with Asthmagirl, of Is My Cape Fluttering?

Are you curious? Who is this mystery woman, whose shadowed picture graces her page? Let me just say this - she has the beauty of:

Catherine Deneuve

... and the strength and spirit of:

Supergirl

In true scatterbrained Baroness fashion, I suggested that we meet at the Cafe at Nordstrom's. On the third floor. All I was thinking was that it would be a civilized arena for a meeting of the minds and a somewhat quiet place to chat.

What I failed to think about (insert your own big "D-Uh-uh's" here), is that this lovely scent-sensitive woman, plagued with asthma, would have to run the gauntlet of the perfume department and all of those fanatical sprayers (who I believe get paid commission on volume of aroma squirted per hour - with bonuses for depleting their bottle by the end of their shift!!).

Yet, as a testament to her fortitude and determination, she made it.

We had a lovely time. We talked of our loved ones, of politics, of blogging philosophies & strategies. We even waded into the murky waters of "She Who Will Not Be Named." Nice to know that I was validated a little bit, and that I'm not just a crankpot.

[Well, I can be a crankpot - but that's a story best left for another time]

Our visit, in my estimation, ended hours too soon with text messages from my kin with the oh-so-familiar refrain "Where ARE you? We have to go...".

So, with a big hug, and a picture for posterity (see her post here for details), we once again went our separate ways. And I was giddy with delight at having the opportunity to meet such an interesting, engaging lady.

I urge you, if you can, make the effort to connect with the bloggers in your community. Make the big world into your small world.

It is so worth the effort, and truly, truly a breath of fresh air.

Baroness out!