Seems like I took one, it’s been so long. But I thought about you every day.

I need to make a book. Not write one, but rather have what I’ve already written made into a book.

I’m afeared that despite my best efforts, my WordPress database will someday do a giant hara-kiri, and I’ll be left with no history of this silly little venture: my blog about nothing. I don’t want to see that happen, even though it likely never will, what with all the redundancies WordPress and I have in place. Still…

There are several blog-to-book applications out there, but next to none for self-hosted blogs, like RtB. (A self-hosted blog is where you use your own domain space, as opposed to using that of Blogger or Tumblr or WordPress.com.) I happened to find Anthologize, a WordPress plug-in, to complete the task. It’s not perfect by any means, but it might be worth a shot, once I get the time to sit down with it and catalog the site by month, from 2008 forward. Not that anyone would put that on their Christmas/Hanukkah list. Ha. But it would be good to have in a just-in-case happenstance. Someday, my grandsons might want to read about how nutty I was.

So, when did I last go three weeks without speaking to you? I think never. Aprilis horribilis last month, chile. Lawd. You know something is really weighing on me when I don’t write for weeks on end. But it wasn’t all bad; I undertook an experiment with my high school choir, scheduling their spring concert almost a month earlier in the year (27 April). It worked. As the school year circles the drain in May, everything goes haywire. Athletic teams start playoffs, kids get stressed about finals and projects, seniors check out (some earlier than others, but most around the first of May), and it’s National Field Trip Month. In other words, May is just a big pack o’ nuts. Very little gets done.

To my absolute delight, I found that doing the performance in April not only presented the kids with less end-of-year stress, it revealed a surprising fact: they didn’t need until late May to rehearse the music. They were ready by the 27th of April. Same type of general programming (a motet, a couple of spirituals, and some pop titles), same length…but the finish line was weeks earlier. And they did quite well. Go figure.

So, while most of April was stormy, some parts shone, and I’m glad of it. The 2014-15 school year will undoubtedly go down in my professional history as the most unhappy and difficult. I never again want to spend that much of my workday feeling angry, frustrated and betrayed. As for the remaining 18 school days, I look forward to looking forward. Put this year to bed and call it a basic success, because some good art was made. What more could I want?

FO

Go ahead. Pile on.

1. I think the Grateful Dead is one of the most overrated bands of all time.
2. I think there should be a special place in hell for mean people — on Earth.
3. I think folks should stop worrying about how offended they are at every little thing, and try to concentrate more on enjoying life, because it’s too dang short.
4. I think the bad guys win way too often.
5. I think mega-churches should render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s.
6. I think people who refuse to see the evil of Common Core State Standards and its high-stakes testing are deliberately, willfully (and therefore unforgivably) ignorant.
7. I think a lot of discipline problems at school would go away if a big ol’ alligator-arm principal was allowed to throw a kid or two up against a locker, like in the old days.
8. I think all political parties should be disbanded, defunded, and prohibited from ever forming again. And go back to popular vote for the presidency.
9. I think deregulation of the airline industry was a bad idea. Say it with me: ol·i·GOP·o·ly
10. I think that before anyone complains about anyone else’s profession, the complainer must first spend a year at the job in question.

Bring yer own! Set, go.

Why do I feel so nostalgic this morning? Possibly because I saw one of these while reading the news. I’ve always loved the look of a ’65 Mustang. And now that they’re bringing that classic look back, well, here I am, wanting one. Please send it to me. Rat Fink, Finkleman Street, Finkville. And please fill up the back seat with these. And these.

Seriously, fiends. I don’t ask you for much.

Dad’s toy

I remember, as a kid, seeing Mustangs and thinking they were the coolest, sleekest things — almost as fantastic as the powder blue ’63 Pontiac Tempest convertible Dad drove. I have a distinct memory of this car: Mavis and I lying down in the back seat (circa 1965, before the days of seat belt laws), watching the stars go by on a warm Sunday evening drive home from Grandma’s house. Good times.

I don’t know when the Tempest left us, or what happened to it. I’m sad I never asked while our folks were alive. There’s a blank space in my car memories until 1971, when Dad — obviously a Pontiac man — drove home in this beauty – a brand new Pontiac Catalina. And yes, I’m being sarcastic.

Thank the gods, we never owned a station wagon. At least I don’t *think* we did. Everyone at the time was buying the soon-to-be-ubiquitous Town & Country-style “woodies.” Thank you, no. (However, I did run across a rather funky update on the theme. Fun.)

Our parents threw down a hundred bucks for this gem, which was nowhere close to the shape of the one in the picture, I might add. All I remember is rust, and doors that were almost impossible to open, as each one weighed 6,000 lbs. I was embarrassed to ride in it, and it was about as dependable as a screen door on a submarine. I remember getting sick at school one day (I came down with a bad stomach bug, and the nausea was so bad, I asked my teacher for the bathroom pass, but didn’t make it to the door before passing out; I woke up seconds later with a shoe missing and my arm in the garbage can…humiliating), and Mother couldn’t get the dang car started, so my principal had to drive me home. More humiliation.

I’ll bet you have some fun family car memories. Or maybe some of the not-so-fun, don’t make me stop this car variety. We had those experiences, too.

Happy Sunday!

When it’s been almost two weeks since I last spoke to you, you know stuff is going down. Between DT rehearsals and the war that is turning into nothing short of a national civil rights issue, I’ve been dragging it up to bed early every night, and out early the next morning. Haven’t seen my grandsons in forever, and 21 days out from my show, the cracks are starting to spider out. Time for some Sunday rehearsals.

February made me shiver, and not just because it was the coldest one on record.

But here’s to a brighter March. My cast will improve; it’s always rough during the last three weeks. I’m trying to remember if I’ve ever done a show that hasn’t included the standard weeping and gnashing of teeth for a full month before opening. Not sure that scenario has ever existed — although I will admit I wouldn’t mind experiencing it. We’ve sold 600 tickets at this writing; I hope the 15th anniversary is a success. I’m looking forward to seeing some old cast and crew members, and taking pictures.

The anti-testing fight rages on. And when I say “rages,” I mean there’s plenty of rage — from both sides. It’s become ugly on several fronts, but we must stay the course. We’re making progress, but no huge policy change ever happens without a long, protracted fight. And that’s what this is, believe you me.

I have an appointment today, so I’m not in school at the moment. It’s nice to sleep in until 6:15 and take your time with coffee and reading. And writing to you. I’ve missed you here!

Happy weekend, fiends.

RF, weary warrior

It’s been seven years. That can’t be right. Holy cats.

On 22 February, 2008, I published my first post here at RtB. During the ensuing years, I’ve been asked a lot of questions about this little venture, and I’ve answered them privately, but can’t recall posting the answers anywhere so my readers (the teeming multitude of about 150 of you, worldwide) who don’t know me personally can see them. Therefore, I shall celebrate RtB’s birthday by listing and answering a few; kind of like, you know, interviewing myself. Behold, the interesting questions and mundane answers:

What does Rockin’ the Bourgeoisie mean? “RtB” means, in a way, “rattling the cages of my fellow regular folks, and encouraging them to think, smile, and especially, talk to one another and to me.” You know I love comment love. I also love the interaction in a somewhat controlled space. While I don’t moderate comments like many bloggers do, I’m partial to having at least some guidelines for conversation. That makes it so I don’t have to check this place every 10 minutes to make sure something totally vile doesn’t upset my friends, or the parents and students who read here on a semi-regular basis.

What’s your blog about? Nothing. (I know I’ve said that here — probably about a hundred times.) This is likely the question I’ve been asked the most, next to Why “Rat Fink?”. Years ago, I read on some writer’s site that blogs without a focused subject are basically useless. Well, there you go.

Why do you call your husband “The Thriller?” Because his name is Michael Jackson.

Isn’t this website expensive? Why don’t you just get a Tumblr or Blogger or WordPress site? I suppose self-hosting a blog could be viewed as extravagant, but it’s really not that terribly costly. In the interest of transparency: I pay $100 and change per year for hosting, and $20 or so for annual domain name renewals (I own three domains, and two are hosted on this server: finkweb.org and the site I maintain for my choirs). The best part is the complete control over one’s own domain space with regard to structure and design, software platform, and especially, (the 100% lack of) advertising. That was important to me, so I chose this route as opposed to the free sites (which are all fine and good, btw).

What’s your “thing” with David Soul? Hahaha. You refer to when I mention his name on the Law page. It’s a silly story, but David Soul (yes, that David Soul — the one of “Don’t Give Up on Us, Baby” and Starsky & Hutch fame), commented here once, on a post in which I wrote several nice things about him, and he behaved like the arrogant, self-important, smug jerk he apparently is. It was definitely a peculiar experience, and therefore totally worth memorializing in some permanent fashion.

What do you get out of writing like this every day? Well first, it used to be every day. Nowadays, not so much, and that makes me sad. I want nothing more than to change that and get back to writing every day, because as fellow writers know, it’s part of your cellular make-up; it’s a huge chunk of who you are. To abandon or even back-burner it is a disservice to your soul.

And here’s a question I just made up:

What do you like most about doing this? YOU. No joke. When I think about my family who have commented here, and the friends I’ve made and reconnected with through this forum, I can say with complete certainty that those relationships are what keeps this show on the boards. That you think it’s a remotely positive experience to click over here every day makes me very happy. So thank you!

All right, as usual: off to get some work done. Happy weekend!