Hula Dancing Cows, Donuts, and Beer

Is what I was fortunate enough to have going through my head today.         Just like Homer Simpson.       As I sat on the sidewalk in front of Casa de Trudy and basked in Vitamin D and wondered if the soil was too wet because I had a bag full of dirt.  Big handsful of clover, a few ants and one ladybug, rude peoples' butts and trash.  Those deep snaky vines (oh grow up !) that feel like rope-climbing when you pull them.   I've got coffee, cell phone, car keys, and broken baseball bat (for bad guys).    Did I mention the warm kiss of life-giving natural radiation ?  "..Breeze zee ay-uh !" - The Trouble With Angels, 1966)      I am clad in full-on sweats and my hidden Tinkerbell nightie.  Blue fuzzy socks.  My 20 year old tennies.   I have gone ahead and mixed my metaphors or whatever, as I am weeding in my Dish Gloves (hot pink, but then you knew that).   I assume a blended pose of "leave me the fuck alone, I am having a weeding/Vitamin D  moment" and "look, my face is guardedly yet radiantly friendly.  I assess you as momentarily sane, so look at my cool nod and hear my inaudible greeting".     A coupla old Chinese ladies in amazing hats.  No big.     Then, cometh the Bearded Scrawny White Guy.  We begin a very cordially-terse discussion of weeds, lawns, grass issues, moles, rain, sand.  The economy (or as my sister, Aunt and I call it "the grapefruit".  Mostly because we were so very tired of hearing the word "economy".  The E Word).  San Francisco, go figure, here comes the sun.  Thank you, come again. I continue to weed, and he prattles on about baseball and stuff.  I keep weeding, shaking dirt clods - only fleetingly making eye contact, as I am pretty much finished with him.  Been.     This non-conversation has to stop, because Scrawny is starting to spew politics and fist-pounding local and global issues and Goddammit can you not see that I AM WEEDING HERE ?  "Ya think the rain'll hurt the rhubarb ?" was about as far as I wanted to take this relationship.      In a flash, he stands before me spouting conspiracy theories and how he can prove them but he bets key records were destroyed and....   And I pop up and start dragging my dirt bags (very funny...) around the sidewalk as a subterfuge. Neighbor boy Jason Hoo pops out from next door, and bless him, starts his car and leaves it typically and inexplicably running... something that usually irritates me.  Not today -  I'm beginning to be glad for the company/eyewitness.   Conspiracy Guy is on a roll now, and I am ready to go across the street to the car...  because an open house gate, and he could follow me into the house, theorizing all the while.  This is where my Louisville Slugger  comes in.    Before I know it, I am spitting on my hands and rubbing them together.  I grope at my non-existent nut cup, tug at my jersey, and adjust my cap as I squint into the sun.  Swing and a miss   ! He's outta there !    Nah - Jason Hoo came out, I palmed the bat, Crazy Guy vanished.     Dammit all to hell !!!  Cannot a girl pull a few fecking weeds in the sun anymore ?!                      Space invaded,                              Trudy P.S.  You're only paranoid if they're not really after you.

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Face Dive

  Kids' books have long tried to capitalize on presenting normal things so that they seem.... normal.
    For instance, the Taro Gomi collection : Everyone Poops, The Gas We Pass, etc.   The possibilities are endless, and can even extend beyond the realm of the bodily function.  There is a book called "Grossology" - every kid's favorite pick from the Scholastic Book Club.   How's about Everyone Sweats, Let's Talk About My Boogers, My Cystic Acne, or anything by the prolific 20th century author, I.P. Freely. 

   Well, how about Everyone Face Plants, We All Take A Header, Lying on The Sidewalk, Walk It Off, Pop A Red Bull.   So, yeah - I tripped and fell flat on Divisadero Street, mere steps from my destination, Starbucks.   I toppled over, tumbled over, keeled over, fell down/over, went head over heels, went headlong, collapsed, went ass over teakettle, took a spill, pitched forward, tripped, stumbled, slipped, came a cropper, ate concrete...you get it.  Nose to the ground.    

     As with most falls, it happened in super slo-mo.  I felt myself pitching forward, almost could hear a spooky and garbled voice saying "noooooo..." as all 4 of my limbs surely flailed in a slow blur.  Other people watched this agonizingly-timeless plotz.  As soon as I realized my eventual crashing to the ground, I wisely reached forward in order to take some woman down with me.  This would serve a dual purpose : she might actually break The Fall, and I would also not be the only one laying on the sidewalk.   A total win-win.   I was thrust into her (not) waiting arms, and dragged my hands down the whole of her body as I went.  She made some sort of awkward squealing noise, and BOOM.     
       We have a piper down !  The RayBans flew off the face, things I was carrying littered the path in front of me.  One lady came to my aid - or so I thought : she leaned down (no hand up for me, mind you) and said :  "This is the 2nd time I've seen someone fall
 today !"  Oh, right - I forgot that this was about you, bitch - help me the hell up off of the christing sidewalk, wouldja ?  Jesus wept !

   I had no choice (occasional fallers will testify) but to spring up like a 20 year old Olympian athlete, gamely gather my pathetic strewn accessories, and bravely (not) limp into the coffee house.  I got a few stares - mostly, they seemed disgusted by my ...shattering of their mid-day tableau.  Gets kinda messy when some old chick with an ample behind seems to nibble on the concrete - look away, it didn't really happen, folks.  Nothing to see here.  Move along.  I think a few people may have even thrown coins on me.  One good samaritan actually came out of Starbucks to check on my welfare - snaps for being human, dude. 

   So, it's on as I wobble into the 'Bucks.  I am in an extraordinary amount of pain, but I am biting the proverbial bullet in order to save what's left of my face.  I quickly dial Chief at work, and the whimpering begins : "Honey, I'm in Starbucks and I am about to cry.  I fell down and it really hurts."  He conducts a quick welfare check, and suggests I go to the hospital, since I'm in the 'nabe.  No dice, Chicago - I'm cool.  (Ed. note - 7 days after the event, I developed an actual 9 inch bruise one one leg.  The knees are still shot over a month later.  We don' need no steenkin' doctors - I just can't use my legs.)

  I then snufflingly order my items - bringing a drink down to Sparky at school - long day, my baby could use a little goodie.  As I approach her, limping and wincing - you can see the struggle on her face :  something between "oh God Mom, are you okay ?"  and "Jesus, Mom - what now ?"

What if God was one of us ?  Face down in the street like one of us. 

Community Theatre Rant - 6/24/08

  Lord, is it I ?
     Not only is that one of my favorite Matthew quotes from the Bible, but it is exactly how I feel when I have to enter the world of Local Community Theatre.
        It is cyclical, it is gut-wrenching, and, in its own way, it is necessary. I think that "Local Community Theatre" (henceforth, 'LCT' ) is a vitally important thing in the world, as are many other things that fall under the category of "I don't want to do it, but I think somebody has to".   Like protesting against the War du Jour, caring and being informed about things like apple moth spraying and scores of other things poisoning and killing is us soon.  Wondering if/why vaccinations cause autism.  Why does everyone have asthma, cancer, and IBS ?  Who will study these things and get back to the rest of us ?    I am not available for this.
     Same for liking animals in general, helping to birth any mammal, being the cruise director on the Ship of Fools.  Going to church regularly.  Playing sports. Being wonderfully energetic and consistently outdoorsy, jogging at 7:30 in the morning...   Administering colonoscopies, dealing with dead people, eating jook and/or drinking horchata... being a vegetarian, liking country music, being an ignorant slob, not being smart, liking Oprah, not having cable TV....
       I could go on and on (and likely will, someday).  There are certain things that pretty much have to be done, most of which have something to add to the whole, in order to balance things.  I would rather be shot than do any number of things myself -  but am generally glad for (or at least aware of) those who do..and must do, certain stuff.
     To wit, and shame on me for loathing LCT so:  I admit that there needs to be a way for people to act onstage and work and never be famous but love it and it's important to them and it's free, so, technically, anyone has access to  live staged drama and, not unlike the opposable thumb, it's one step further away from savagery to have these kinds of things.   I have no desire to care about everything, so I depend on my planet-mates to pick an area and focus on it.  Be it free civic events or questioning large institutions or using pedal-powered electricity (Ed Begley, Jr. - you know who you are).  Someone's gotta  do it.
     However, out of, oh, 20  free productions since early 2000's, we have "seen" 6 or 7 of the plays, and have just pulled our skin off each and every time.  It's like  crawling over hot broken glass.   It is massive hysteria and insanity.  I blame Chief - it is unlike me to behave quite this way.  Unless really pushed... 

      The long painful road looks something like this :
 
1) Receive flyer and dates for the event and promise to try to see it
2)  Freak out later, and slowly start a rumbling about free you-know-what.
3) Realize you are also...free that night (s), and increase both volume and frequency of community theater grumblings.  
4) Start pounding fist sporadically, exclaiming "Community Theatre !!" (a la "Newman !" from Seinfeld)
5) By showtime, the whining and moaning and wild exclamations have cranked up, and desperation sets in. You start to sputter and talk out of your head.  Things like  "I don't even like any of my friends enough to do this !"    Or "I'm afraid I'll start screaming and never stop."  "If I vomit, we can go after the first act."
6) Act crazy and irrational in the car, in the parking lot, as we step into the theatre, as we are handed programs, as we advance to the  nosebleed seats (option of actually lying (laying?) down up there... Plop down and immediately place head between knees and breathe deeply.
7) Know that you have a whole roll of Mentos, and plan to parcel them out as reward to self and encouragement to  go on.  Promise not to chew all of them  Then you will scream and never stop (see step # 5)
8) Tough it out, sobbing and cursing during intermission, call the kids and tell them you are about to jump off a cliff. They invariably say "Gah - grow up - leave early ! " No can do.  Too rude.
9) Show ends, tears of relief, then the inevitable simultaneous rant on the drive home : why is there a fucking  inexplicable animal lurching about on stage during all of this shit, why not do a simple 'Our  Town' or 'Odd  Couple' or even 'Hair'.  Just because it's free doesn't mean it has to suck so bad, if I needed deeper meaning and  christing symbolism I guess I'd voluntarily seek it out, the whole audience sickened me, let's bitch-slap the director, and, of course "never again".  We go on like old people, both yammering at the same time, nearly apoplectic.
10) We then call our friend, tell him how much we loved it, how great he was (he is rather good, btw) and to be sure and let us know what the next LCT production is. 


       Then, we lay odds on the animal pelt that will be used.

            Hated it.
                 

Spring Training - 2/22/11

      It is a beautiful 80 degrees here in Scottsdale, and I have goosebumps.  11 a.m., and the field is lousy with World Champions.   Black and Orange figures scattered all around, the crack of the bat, whistles, shouts, some clapping - and the inevitable child's voice carrying over it all : "Hey....Panda..."   Relaxed excitement is the name of the game this morning.  The crowd (if you can call this handful of lizard-fans a crowd) sunning themselves and taking it all in.
     Ahhhh.  I know they are beyond excited to be here, but lazily clapping in their seats is perfect for a day like this.  Little Giant-Heads stand by the railing - hoping for an autograph of their favorite player as he heads off the field.   The Boys themselves seem spot on - relaxed and yet intense - concentrating and seeming to have fun doing it.  Coaches pitch.  Bruce Bochy strides back and forth - stopping to share a few pearls of wisdom along the way.. looks like the cat that ate the canary.  Or the National League.  Or the world.
   Who's here ?  Pat "The Bat" Burrell had a root canal done.  Really - Cactus League Dental Work ?  He still swaggers up to the plate as if his shit don't stink (ed. note : still mad at him re: no eye contact and a rather dismissive autograph during FanFest . That's bad mojo that needs to be cleared up before April.)   Brian Wilson is still kind of "resting".  Bad back, why rush it, no biggie, talking meetings with Charlie Sheen, but he's our Brian and that's okay.  Maybe he'll change up his workout to accommodate it.  Reportedly, a true beast when it comes to physical conditioning.  (ed. note - you've seen him shirtless, right ?)  He basically has carte blanche with me - as he is all business when he's between the lines.  Fact.


Pitchers' Fielding :
   First stop of the day, but I am apparently late, as I see a brief glimpse of Tim Lincecum and Matt Cain - and poof -  they be gone.  I swoon with the desert heat - and massive disappointment.  I was told to arrive at 11:00, dammit.   It's getting hot and dusty.

     A large part of this drill involves practicing through the creation of "situations".  The entire pitching staff is (was) here - sorting through different fielding scenarios, re-creating muscle-memory for those important plays.  It seems as it our Pitchers do need a full six weeks of throwing just to build up that arm strength.  Even with a shortened off-season.  I just see the tail end of them all scrambling and fielding.  My own muscle memory for baseball is also coming back.    I squat to test my catcher's stance.  No catcher me, my knees crack like fresh lumber and I limp on to the other side of the batting cage.

Batting Practice (BP) :  The Coaches are throwing these (rather easy) pitches to the Sluggers : it's all about the batting response and getting a bit of wood (oh come on - grow up).  They file up to the plate and crack off 5 good ones at a shot  - "home runs" are fast and furious : I read in the paper that NORAD is still looking for one of 

Butt-ster (yep - saw him a lot from the....rear view, hanging over the fence.) Posey's slams.  Cody Ross' balls were way outta there, as well.  I closed my eyes and just listened to the beautiful music provided by the long ball in the sun....  They bat in groups of 3, the coaches change, the balls all end up in the big bin.

     (Is it too early for a beer ?  I thought so....I'm parched...)

   Your hitters can usually get their hit together (pun totally intended) in 2-3 weeks.  They get used to the velocity, swing a million times (or 100), wear in the gloves, callous up the hands.  Tug on the jersey.

Player Notes : 

 Timmy Lincecum :  Look for another breath-taking season from Big Time Timmy Jim.

Madison Bumgarner :  Look for him getting another year away from his teens.  His mechanics were off the heezy last season - the boy could not seem to throw a pitch (but kicked more ass post-season).  He did experience, however, a family tragedy (and got married).  MadBum will amaze us this year.

Pablo Sandoval : Looks awesome - like America's Next Top Model.  The party line is between 38-40 pounds, but it might as well be 140 pounds.  Big Boy looks fly.  Let's not get distracted by his waistline, though - he needs to tighten up his other stuff a bit.   I heard it said that he "...would have swung at the resin bag back in 2009..."  Time to relax and strut that ass.

Miguel Tejada :  Time will tell, but it should be fun.  He could well fill the Clubhouse void left by Uribe and Renteria.  Former MVP shortstop, but his lowest slugging % was in 2010.  We throw so many strikes - and we can look forward to a Sanchez-Tejada double play team.

     People will make the mistake of underestimating the 2011 Defending World Champion San Francisco Giants.  Wait'll everyone realizes that it wasn't actually a fluke or weird luck or planet alignment.  It's The Team.  The actual people on the team. 

 And where they leave off, the fans pick up.

 We're doing it again.

 Just watch.