Tag Archives: play


images-12We’re waiting for another nor’easter to blow its way up the coast. In houses all over New England and the Maritimes, children are lying, breathless, under their sheets, waiting for the sound of snow.

The silent stealthy steps of snowflakes, tiptoeing around the house. The grumbling of snow plows scraping  the streets. The unusual quiet of cars as they hover past on cushioned tires.

I remember those mornings. I’d turn on my AM radio to WRKO, trying to hear school cancellations between the morning chatter and pop tunes. I lived in Winchester, so I’d try to stay awake as they ran through all the school districts but I’d invariably fall asleep waiting for our town’s announcement and have to start over through the A’s and on.

I did it again when my kids were little. I’d have CBC on this time, trying to hear the announcement of cancellations, listening for the howling of the wind, the sound of shovels. If school was cancelled, I could grab another half-hour’s sleep, the kids would be happy, we’d all hang around in jammies all day. They’d watch too much television, we’d have creative snacks, the day would creep by in delicious slo-mo.

If there wasn’t an announcement, I’d have to spring into super action, sort out where all the warm clothes were, clear off the steps, maybe shovel the drive, especially if I had to drive them to school.

So I’d lie there, rigid, not sure if I could relax or if I had to leap out of bed. Listening. Trying not to fall asleep. Listening so hard my ears nearly grew.

I loved snow days, as a kid and an adult. I still love them. Tomorrow, I expect we’ll be sheathed in swaths of powdery snow. Here in the Maritimes, we have a day or two of  mess, and then it melts off, so the kids here have to run out when they can and make big big snowmen to persist through the melting. I hope they get a day off, though I know it’s tough on parents. Snow days are one of those most magical things about childhood. A gift from Mother Nature or Jack Frost.

Happy nor’easter, and may your power ever burn bright…

I’ve got a bunch of good books and a warm cat. Perfect.

Ian Rankin’s play opens in Edinburgh – win tickets!

Ian Rankin Giveaway

Why not give it a try? What a wonderful reason to visit Edinburgh…though, truth be told, there are always reasons to visit that charming city.
The giveaway is just for tickets to the play and a signed script. Travel is on your own, alas…

The dread of the MULLET…

ImageI have recently discovered how terribly, terribly shallow I actually am.

My partner, Tim, is in a play, “The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas” playing at the Dartmouth Community Players for the month of November. It looks like a hoot, and I’m so glad he’s doing it.

For his part, as part of his costume, he got his hair cut into a mullet. A MULLET!

I dunno. I’ve never been able to understand the appeal of this “business in the front, party in the back” hairstyle. It seems like it can’t decide what to be. It removes at least 40 IQ points and sends you about in a haze Country and Western theme music.

So every time I look at the poor guy, I find myself shuddering. It’s so so shallow of me. He’s the same man, I’ve seen him in all sorts of iterations and he’s the sweetest fellow ever, but there’s something about the hair…

Of course, I should be careful. I’ve been known to have some pretty unusual haircuts myself, and he saw me thorough the growing out of my hair dye, which was pretty scary. If I were a good girlfriend, I’d be supportive.

I’m trying. I hardly ever avert my eyes anymore. After all, I can’t go averting my eyes every time he comes home. I’m trying to avoid tripping and falling into things, and, besides, it might hurt his feelings…

Hmm. I suspect I already have. Here’s what he posted to me today…

And now a little number from Elton John (or Shatner…)

She warned me earlier, before
To watch the look I have
But I’m gonna be dressed just right, for the play
I miss the earth so much, I miss my life
It’s lonely with this trim
Sad are the connotatons of this cut 

And I think it’s gonna be a long long time
Till grooming comes around again to mind
It’s not the man they see, they see the hair
Oh no no no I’m a mullet man
Mullet man shaking out his long locks here alone

Bars ain’t the kind of place to go like this
In fact, I hide at home
And the one who’s there does tease me, about my clip
And all this fashion, I don’t understand
It’s just my art, five days a week

And I think it’s gonna be a long long timeImage

Till grooming comes around again to find
It’s not the man they see, they see the hair
Oh no no no I’m a mullet man
Mullet man shaking out his locks up here alone

See why I love this guy?

Now, where are those scissors….

Chutney the somewhat magnificent

I have a little puppy

Who goes in and out with me

And everywhere that I go,

That’s where he wants to be.

He takes me out on walkies

through sun and snow and rain

And just when we get back

He wants to go again.

I love my little doggums

Though he can be a pest

Like when he eats my underwear

Or makes a garbage nest.

He’s begging now for dinner

he whines and scratches me

But I know I’ll give it to him

And he’ll turn away and pee

I really hate my doggums

I wish he’d go away

But then he gives me kisses

And I have to go and play.