Monthly Archives: May 2013

OK wait.

“Summer vacation,” yes? HA

Truly, it’s great. Other than schlepping it to the Hyundai dealership this morning (the Finkmobile goes in for its 7500-mile checkup), cleaning house and baking like a madwoman tonight and tomorrow morning, having the Js for an overnighter (yay!!), and cooking lunch (chicken pot pies, yeast rolls, salad and two lovely Fanci-Fill ice cream cakes) for 16 on Sunday — I’m doing nothing this weekend.


I do love some summer break shenanigans. And no time like the present to get them started. Visits to Grandson #3 and sister Mavis are also in the works before next week’s insanity begins. I must say I luv it.

What’s your weekend looking like? Are you proud of me on account of I actually know what day it is today? (I often lose track over the summer.)

News item: Strange happenings in my town. A popular mission/ministry here in Ashland has burned to the ground — for the second time in 5 years. Someone is already in custody, but police are not saying who. Odd…and a shame that the fire took with it not only (and most importantly) a crucial resource for needy families, but also a huge chunk of the town’s industrial and architectural history. Almost a whole city block of 19th-century buildings. Sad.

I hope you have some time carved out for family this weekend. Now git bizzy; if I have to, you have to. ;-)

List, anyone?

I think I need one. It’s my first official day of summer break, and I’m experiencing the familiar jittery feeling of being “at sea.” Adrift. Purposeless. Confused about which thing to do next.

J’ever get that way? Each time I’ve tried to make a list, it’s ended up in varying stages of mild success to abject failure. I grow tired of the list, I lose the list, I start the list over again, or I simply ignore it. Why am I so disciplined in other areas of my life, but in the areas that really count (to me, anyway), I’m terrible?

I’ve always believed it’s a matter of self-discipline, and shame on people who can’t control it (e.g., me). It’s somewhat of a self-fulfilling prophecy merry-go-round at times:

I should make a list, but if I do, I’ll end up not following through with the tasks on the list, which will make me feel like a failure, for which I’ll say, “If I’d just be disciplined enough to follow a list of the things I need to accomplish, I’d accomplish them,” only to make the list and end up not following through with the tasks on the list, which will make me feel like a…


Still, I do not give up the fight. I could just, say, not make a list and simply attack the jobs that need to be done as I think of them. Hmm, I guess so. But I’m lazy, I think. I’ve discussed this phenomenon with the Thriller on many occasions. He calls me a “big picture thinker,” as I struggle with breaking down big tasks/concepts into little pieces (lists?).

For instance, I’ll think to myself, I have got to clean this house, ARG! Yikes, huge task, and I’ll often say, “Well, I’ll clean this house later — for now, I’ll read that article.” If I ignore it, it goes away, see? I need to just buck up and get going. I’d rather write a 20-page treatise on the dangers of GMOs in our food than iron those blouses or clean the bathrooms. 

All right, stop complaining. I have to go make a list. What goes on it today, I wonder? I know: everything. Just do everything.


And how

Even with all the politics, the natural and man-made disasters, the budget crises, the crime, and the weaknesses inherent in the system, the United States — to me, anyway — remains one of the greatest countries on earth, and I’m proud to live here.

When I think of Memorial Day, I am reminded of what Winston Churchill said about his own Royal Air Force in the Battle of Britain in 1940: Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few. Though hundreds of thousands have fought for the US in myriad conflicts, the numbers pale in comparison to the hundreds of millions who continue to live in freedom because of their sacrifice. It is not lost on me.

Enjoy your Memorial Day today — brought to you by the United States Armed Forces. We appreciate them, both the living and dead, for all they have done and continue to do.

Last gig

Finally, it arrives. The day of my last performance of the year. Huzzah! And our non-air-conditioned high school gymnasium won’t be too much of a sauna, as it’s supposed to be 65 and sunny today. Huzzah! Two tunes, then schoooool’s out. For. Summah.

The march to downtown Akron

Yesterday’s Monsanto rally was excellent. We heard some great speakers, one of whom began her speech with the phrase “I am a GMO.” Her father was a Vietnam veteran, repeatedly exposed to Agent Orange, the Monsanto concoction sprayed as a defoliant in the jungles of southeast Asia. The soldiers were reassured by the government (through the Monsanto folks) that the chemical was safe; that it only denuded the vegetation so as to make it difficult for the enemy to hide. Consequently, they were not given any kind of protective clothing, eye shields, special showers afterwards, nothing. We all know what happened next.

So, back to this girl. She was born in 1972 with webbed hands and foot, and with her left leg missing from the thigh down. Her family’s claim against Monsanto and the military — along with the claims of thousands of others whose maladies have been traced back to Agent Orange — have been hung up in red tape for 40 years.

But there is hope. Millions marched yesterday, worldwide. It certainly won’t affect Monsanto’s profit margin — at least not yet. But the prospect of what they want to do for the future is frightening, and we have to do whatever is necessary to bring it to light. If they want to make their poison, fine. But they should be required to label it as such.

OK, on to summer. It’s almost here!  Seventeen days till we leave for the Odyssey. I hope to fill them up with fun, sun, family, friends, and oh yeah, finally getting around to that “spring cleaning” thing. Oy.

What’s up for you this Memorial Day weekend?

And another one gone

Another year comes to an end, and I’m thinking about the next seven, and how I’ll feel at the end. Lucky seven. Seven more Christmas concerts, seven more mainstage musicals, seven more Dinner Theatres, seven more spring concerts, seven more graduation gigs, and two more choir tours. Yep, we’re down to it. How will I handle it at the end of the “seven?” Will I say, “Yay, I’m outta here!”? Or will I say, “Hmmm…maybe a couple years more”?

Frankly, I don’t know. I’m gunning for “A.” But no time to think about that now, in the throes of a major NyQuil hangover, a half hour behind schedule for getting to school, and having not even made breakfast yet. Stupid cold anyhow. I need to get better for tomorrow’s chilly walk in downtown Akron, when we shake our collective fist at Monsanto. Those criminals have got to be stopped.

But after that, it’s on to some much-needed vacation time. Time with family, then taking off for points south and west. This has been among the toughest school years in my career; let’s hope it was the worst, and the rest will be better.

Summer brings new hope, anyway. :-)

Hey, and it’s Finkday — what the world?! Have a great weekend, my awesome fiends. Drop a line, either in the comments or in the water at the lake. Relax time!