No More Kings

Since I am a proud member of both The Frank Sinatra and Billy Joel Fan Clubs, my knowledge of any music written after 1985 is pretty weak.

So imagine my surprise a few months back when I was introduced to this song by the wonderfully confident and talented Sara Bareilles. I love this girl. I'm using the word LOVE here.

Having spent a great deal of my life in the realm of show biz, I know a little something about people telling me what I had to look like, sound like, or most importantly, WEIGH, if I wanted to become a legitimate success.  I walked around feeling enormously inadequate for the majority of my performing life, because I failed to live up to what these "experts" were telling me I needed to be.

Somehow, this lovely, confident young lady has found the nerve to do something I never could.  She's declared "Enough!"  This song announces her refusal to listen to those who think she is somehow deficient.  Instead, she's going to take the wheel.  It's awesome, my friends!

So, if you're feeling your confidence slipping a little today, or you've ever experienced someone spewing hurtful words your way under the banner of "helpful advice," I want you to listen to what Sara has to tell you in this video.  Don't let anybody be the king of you.  You ROCK!!

 I can't stop watching it!  It makes me feel more confident with each chorus!  Hope it does the same for you!  Enjoy!

Here's a Tip...

The summer after I graduated from college, I moved back to my hometown for a few months to plan my upcoming wedding.  I got a job as a waitress at the local restaurant, not only to earn some much-needed cash, but to gain some experience as a server.  I knew that once I headed to NYC after the wedding, I'd probably do my share of waiting tables as I pursued my career in theater.

Boy, did I suck at being a server.  No, really, I mean it.  I was terrible.  I am a horrible multi-tasker, so I'd run literal laps around the restaurant as I tried to remember to bring each requested item to each separate table.  If the host sat guests at more than three of my tables at a time, I'd usually panic, hyperventilate, and/or cry.

When I finally DID move to NYC that Fall, I humbly admitted my server-challenged abilities, and decided to go the temporary secretary route instead.  The restaurant world breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Some good did come of my short-lived waitressing experience, however. I have an enormous respect for those who do this job well, and I tip generously.  Actually, I've always been a pretty big tipper (if I do say so myself!), even when the service is sub-par.  I may leave a little less, but I know what it's like to hold a job where your salary is low because your employer knows your pay will be supplemented by gratuities.

When I receive service that is poor, I try to understand that maybe the waitress (or hairdresser or nail tech) is just having a bad day, and I still leave something.  Maybe the customer before me was abusive and surly, or maybe she's just exhausted because this is her second job and she was up all night with a crying baby who refused to be consoled.  Or maybe he's a college student who forgot to put a lemon in my Diet Coke like I requested because he's distracted by the fact that he has a really important final tomorrow.

Anyway, imagine my surprise when at 47 years old, I am once again working for tips! That's right, in my current position as a ghost tour guide, my paycheck is pretty meager, because my employer knows I will receive tips each night.  There is even a portion at the beginning of the script I recite each evening which refers to this.  That's where I remind my guests that "gratuities would be greatly appreciated" at the end of the evening.

Because of this, I work very hard at making my tours special for each of my guests.  I memorized, word for word, ten (TEN!) pages of an intricate script, involving dates and historical facts.  I try to add my personal flair to the stories (without changing the facts) so that they are sure to be entertaining.  I take my guests to the best places to capture "orbs" with their cameras, and I wildly "ooh" and "ahh" when said orbs actually appear on their digital screens.  As we walk from location to location, I ask them about where they're from and what they do for a living.  I listen with wide eyes and gasps of fright as they tell me about their ghostly encounters experienced in their own homes and places of business.

A few nights ago, I had a effervescent woman on my tour who gasped and showed me her "goose bumps" after each story I presented.  When we arrived at the last location, she asked me to go slow because she was so sorry the tour was coming to an end. As I finished, she shook my hand, thanked me for a wonderful time, and left. Without leaving me a tip.

This happens time and time again, actually.  People smile and laugh through the majority of the evening, tell me they had a delightful time, and then refuse to tip me.  They watch as others press some folded bills into my hand, watch as I tell them how much I appreciate it, then turn and walk away without giving me a second thought.  Now, I must tell you, I'm not a single mother who desperately needs this cash to put food on the table.  My income is just a supplement to what my husband makes.  But still, it stings.

My husband has worked in every capacity of the restaurant business for the majority of his adult life.  He told me that this is just how it is when you're working for tips.  He told me that it often happened when he used to tend bar, putting himself through college.  He said he'd take special care of his customers.  He'd prepare the drinks just the way they liked, engage in witty conversation, and provide excellent, prompt service. Then, they'd get up and head for the exit, leaving no tip at all.  He told me he learned not to take it personally, and that I shouldn't either.  But I do.

So, what's your theory regarding gratuities?  Are you a generous tipper?  Have you ever worked in the service industry?  If so, how did you get past the sting of being "stiffed?"  I'd really love to hear it.

In the meantime, I hope that the next time you leave the table, the salon chair, the pedicure foot bath, or the wonderfully informative, tremendously entertaining ghost tour, you'll think about us poor folk who tried to go the extra mile for you, to make your experience special.  And I hope you'll show your appreciation with a little monetary token of thanks!  Also,

Thanks for Reading!!

Look, Ma! I'm Versatile!!

My good friend, Shady Del Knight over at Shady Dell Music and Memories has bestowed me with this lovely Versatile Blogger Award!!  Isn't it pretty?  I've ranted about Shady in a previous post, but if you still haven't been over to his terrific site and checked out his wonderfully eclectic mix of music and memories, you MUST do so immediately!!  He's also an incredibly supportive commenter to THIS blog, and for that I am intensely grateful!

The rules upon receiving this award are to first give credit to my presenter, then divulge seven personal things about myself.  Like Shady said in his own blog, I feel I've gone on about myself here ad nauseum, and there really isn't a whole lot more to reveal.  Plus, let's face it, I'm just not that interesting!!

So, I've decided to borrow a page from Shady's book (or, in this case, blog!) and discuss seven DIFFERENT things.  Shady, true to his blog theme, actually revealed seven bands that "rocked his world" when he was in college.  Fun stuff!   Since I already had a blog topic rattling around in the old noggin, I thought I'd incorporate it into my OWN Top Seven List. But first, allow me to explain:

As you may have read in my recent posts, life's been a bit challenging lately.  There's been a whole lot of negative news that Alan and I have been attempting to rise above (thank goodness we have each other, otherwise I don't know WHAT we'd do!).  We were doing pretty well there for awhile, but lately we've been getting weary, and it's been hard to remain positive.  Trust me, it can be terribly exhausting looking for the bright side when there's so much gloom everywhere you look.  I have NO idea how Pollyanna managed it.

So, I was thinking I'd try another tactic.  I'm going to list seven of the pettiest, most ridiculous pet peeves that drive me crazy.  If we focus on the stupid small stuff for just a while, maybe we can forget about the big problems hanging over our heads.  Are you with me?  Let's do this!!  Here goes:

Seven Stupid Pet Peeves:

1.  People Who Don't Use Their Blinkers.  Seriously!  This has to be the LAZIEST form of inconsideration!  Really?  You can't gather the effort to flick your finger and move the blinker switch on your steering wheel so I know you're changing lanes?  REALLY?

2.  People Who Don't Say "Thank You" When I Hold the Door for Them.  It was raining, I got to the door, but saw you just a few yards behind me running to the entrance.  So I waited and held the door.  Silently, you walked through.  REALLY?  By the way, YOU'RE WELCOME!!

3.  People Who Are Intolerant.  Wait, this one's not petty at all.  I really, really hate this.  But it's too important to remove, so I'm leaving it!

4.  People on Facebook Using Poor Grammar and Spelling.  If I read one more sentence like this:  "Your right,  we had a gr8 time to,  I'll send pitures ASAP," heads are going to start rolling!

5.  People Who Read My Name on a Form and Still Call Me "Joann."  (Medical receptionists, I'm looking at YOU!)  Joann is a lovely name.  It's just not mine.  My name's JOAN.  See the difference?  You might as well call me Mary or Wanda.  These are also beautiful names, also not MINE!!

6.  The Fact That I Can't Buy a Bottle of Wine at the Grocery Store in Tennessee.  Seriously, it's the law.  I have to schlep to a liquor store because apparently our state legislators think this is somehow protecting me, or causing me to drink less.  Poor, clueless souls.

7.  People Who Tell Me to Bury A Statue of St. Joseph in My Yard When I Mention That My Home Isn't Selling.  Seriously.  St. Joe's been in the ground at that house since last May.  I even dug him up and moved him to a different location when a certain site suggested it. It's not working (I, personally, am beginning to believe the guy just really hates Pennsylvania).   So, basically, if you mention it to me again (telling me how GREAT it worked for YOU), I will cut you.

WOW!!  I don't know about you, but I feel TERRIFIC!! Now it's your turn!  Tell me what stupid, petty thing really irks YOU!  I can't wait to grumble with you!

And thanks again, Shady, for the lovely award and acknowledgement.  I can't tell you how much it means to me!  And finally, as always,

Thanks for Reading!!

Thanks, Mom!

I've written a great deal here about my Dad.  In fact, this blog was titled after a phrase Dad often uttered, and I've discussed his idiosyncrasies and work ethic in more than one post.

And yet, one person has remained in the background, content to stay in the shadows.  That's my Mom, Saundra Lee Simmons Donnelly.  I thought I'd remedy that today in order to honor her this Mother's Day.

This is a picture of her before she married a paranoid, quick-tempered husband and gave birth to five children in the span of seven years.  Doesn't she look so beautiful and rested?

Truth is, Mom has always been a beauty, inside and out.  While Dad was out working three jobs to pay for food and ballet lessons, Mom was single-handedly, lovingly, running the show at home.  

I don't think Mom ever left the driver's seat of our station wagon from the years 1972-1986.  She was shuttling us to ballet, softball, band practice, and gymnastics.  She was our girl scout leader and the first to volunteer for countless fundraisers for drill team, majorettes, and Thespian society. She sewed our ballet and swing choir costumes, hemmed our skirts, mended our blouses, and taught us how to knit, sew, embroider and crochet.  

She was always so quiet, lovely, and beautiful.   I remember being a little girl and hoping I'd turn out just like her.  Unfortunately, I inherited Dad's slow metabolism and short temper.  Sometimes, life just isn't fair, people.  

(This, by the way, is a picture of Mom holding my dog Trixie.  Like all animals, Trixie adores her because she's so sweet and gentle.  Here, she has fallen asleep, burying her head in Mom's arm.) 

But soft spoken and ladylike as Mom was, she definitely had her "Mama Bear" moments.  I remember one occasion when she felt that our band director had treated one of us unfairly, and she called and firmly gave him a piece of her mind, insisting he "rethink" his actions.  He did!

So, here's to you, Sandy Donnelly.  Thanks for everything you've done, all you continue to do, and for making me feel so loved and special all these years! I hope I've made you proud, and that you feel that the woman I've become was worth all the hard work you did for me! I love you!!

Thanks for Reading!!

Cancer - 1

***Warning:  this post was written on a particularly bad day. It is REALLY negative.  I decided to post it anyway because of it's rawness, but please proceed with caution!***

I wrote this post last January documenting my bi-yearly CT scan appointment, and the positive results the scan revealed.  I titled the post, "Joan - 9, Cancer - 0" because at that point, I had undergone nine CT scans over the course of three years, all with positive, "no tumor growth" results.

Yesterday marked my eleventh CT scan, with my third oncologist (moving to a new town also means finding a new specialist).  This time, the results showed marked growth in the majority of my lymph node tumors, one especially in my pelvic region which has prompted a huge red flag.  The "conclusion" line from the radiologist's report was one sentence:  "Increasing thoracic, abdominal and pelvic adenopathy suggesting progression of lymphoma."

Cancer - 1.

So, here we are in Scarytown.  My new oncologist feels it is still necessary to wait before starting chemo, because my particular brand of lymphoma (follicular) can sort of wax and wane.  There is a chance that it will diminish on it's own, without treatment.  My doc feels it is safe to wait six more months, scan me again, and make the decision for action at that point.

Although I recognize this glimmer of hope, and will be clinging to it with both hands for the next six months, I still feel an enormous sense of defeat.  Here's why:

It's time to admit that cancer holds all the cards, my friends.  We can eat right, replace our carbonated sodas with green tea, and exercise daily.  We can juice fresh veggies and fruits and down them after our morning runs, and consume healthy, green salads every day.  We can even invest in a pricey wheat grass juicer because someone said that ingesting a frothy, thick, green swill that tastes like you're drinking your lawn has "been known to cure cancer."  And even though each shot of that stuff makes us want to vomit, we faithfully grow that damn grass and down it every morning because just MAYBE it'll be the healing remedy that will solve everything.  Except that it won't.

I did all these things, my cancer has never gone away.  I raised a triumphant fist in the air after each of those ten CT scans, as if I had something to do with the results.  I didn't.  Cancer was just deciding to stay quiet for awhile.  Now, I must sit and hope it will do the same until November.  I have no control.

So, I'll wear my colored ribbons and donate to my friends' 5Ks and Races for the Cure.  I'll keep a positive attitude (after I'm finished purging myself with this particular dramatic pity-party I'm now composing) and smile at my friends and relatives and tell them I'm doing just fine, that I'll "show cancer who's boss!"  But I know the truth.  There is no score.

Cancer has me, literally, by the throat.

Feybulous!!

Even though I'm an avid reader, I've never  used  this blog to review any of the books I've read.  Why?  I have no idea!  But I've just finished "Bossypants," an autobiography by the awesome Tina Fey, and I've decided to break my streak!

"But Joan," you may be saying, "Tina Fey is a Pinko Commie Liberal Fascist!  How can you like her, or for that matter, support her anti-American agenda by buying her book?"  To you I have only this response:  If you feel this way, you need to read Tina's writing more than anyone, because then you will see how misinformed you've been!

The truth is, Tina is an uber-witty comedian/writer/producer who somehow managed to achieve success in a male-dominated medium, even though she was never the Prettiest Girl in the Room.  She actually succeeded because she is smart and talented, not because she batted her eyelashes and played "dumb blonde."  She also displays a wonderful self-deprecating humor which proves that she doesn't take herself too seriously, and insists that we don't either.

In her brilliant, witty book, Tina discusses her early years as an improvisational comic (performing with the popular Second City Comedy troupe in Chicago), and how they helped shape the ways she conducts herself as a performer, as a writer, as a boss, and as a wife and mother.

For example, one of the rules of improv is to "Always agree and say 'Yes.'"  "For instance,"  she writes, "if we're improvising and I say, 'Freeze, I have a gun,' and you say, 'That's not a gun.  It's your finger.  You're pointing your finger at me,' our improvised scene has ground to a halt.  But if I say 'Freeze, I have a gun!' and you say, 'The gun I gave you for Christmas?  You bastard!' then we have started a scene because we have AGREED that my finger is in fact a Christmas gun."

Then Tina explains why this "agreement theory" is applicable to life: "Now obviously in real life you're not always going to agree with everything everyone says.  But the Rule of Agreement reminds you to 'respect what your partner has created' and to at least start from an open-minded place.  Start with a YES and see where that takes you.  As an improviser, I always find it jarring when I meet someone in real life whose first answer is no.  'No, we can't do that.' 'No, that's not in the budget....' What kind of way is that to live?"

Then there's my favorite Rule of Improvisation that Tina discloses:  There are no mistakes, only opportunities.  She writes:  "In improv there are no mistakes, only beautiful happy accidents.  And many of the world's greatest discoveries have been by accident.  I mean, look at the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, or Botox."  Seriously, how can you not love this woman?

And if you're still clinging to the "pinko-commie-liberal-fascist" belief because of her dead-on portrayal of Sarah Palin back in 2008, then I have this message for you:  If you think her portrayal of the former Alaskan Governor was "mean," as many of her opposers have commented, then you must also be outraged at Chevy Chase's depiction of a bumbling, stumbling, accident-prone Gerald Ford.

You must be unforgiving of Dan Ackroyd's impersonation of a toothy Jimmy Carter, hoarding tubes of Preparation H (during the unfortunate public disclosure of the president's hemorrhoid problem).  You must condemn Phil Hartman for his portrayal of Bill Clinton, laying across his bed, gossiping with Monica Lewinsky about the latest Dawson's Creek episode, or gorging on Big Macs at the local McDonald's.  And do we really need to discuss Dana Carvey and Will Ferrell's version of the silly, "Not gonna do it" "Strategery" Bush boys?  (Or Dana Carvey's hilarious Ross Perot impression?)  I don't think so!

The truth is, everyone understood when these male comedians performed a parody involving political celebrities, that it was just that, a parody.  When Tina Fey did the same involving a female candidate, she was tagged as being "mean" and "cruel" and having a political agenda.  Unfair?  Sexist?  You betcha.

So unclench your fists, place this book in your hands instead, and enjoy the comedic stylings of a refreshingly honest, REAL female American.  You'll be AMAZED at how much you've learned (AND how much you've laughed) once you've finished!

And even if you don't agree with me, I still want you to know that I respect your opinion, and I won't judge you or think less of you for disagreeing with me.  Tina taught me that!

Thanks for Reading!!

Lucky

I've been doing a lot a whining lately.  That dumb house in York, PA won't sell.  The vet recently found a mass on the lung of Trixie, our seventeen year old Jack Russell Terrier, and she coughs like a 90 year old chain smoker. We've been on some pins and needles around here, to say the least.

But the truth is, I'm really lucky.  Way, WAY more lucky than I deserve.  I have Alan, my husband, who holds my hand, particularly in times like this.  He assures me that everything is going to be OK.  I believe him.

That's why I love this song so much, and why I play it over and over and over on days like this.  It's why I want to share it with you now.  The chorus is so pretty, so lovely, I can't stop listening to it.  This is my wish for you today, that you find someone that makes you feel as happy and as loved as this song suggests! Enjoy!!