Yesterday, after a day when I was so busy facilitating a group for patients and then a group for health care workers who are so busy they really don’t have time to come to groups, I saw this at our veterinarian’s office:
Today, on my Thursday that is SO busy, I’m going to give a presentation to nurse practitioners at my hospital to encourage them to come to my group even though they’re so busy. I may share today’s Daily Bitch Calendar with them:
I hope you are not so busy that you don’t have time to look at my other so busy images for today.
I’m not so busy, even on my so-busy Thursday, that I can’t include another photo for Plant Appreciation Day.
I was so busy listening to the vet tech explain how to apply antibiotic ointment in both of Joan’s eyes twice a day, that I didn’t take a video of her putting Joan in a “burrito” to prevent her so busy legs from running away. Here is a so busy veterinarian on YouTube explaining how to burrito her cat:
Because my husband Michael makes burritos, I’m hoping he will be able to more easily restrain Joan’s so busy limbs for her twice-daily eye treatments.
Sometimes I’m so busy it takes me a few days to respond to comments, but I still hope you leave one about this so-busy post.
I’m never so busy that I don’t express gratitude to those I appreciate, including YOU!
I grew up with a very funny father who was a fan of good stand up comedy. I still remember watching TV with my dad and the way he would laugh out loud at comedians he liked. He would also sit in silence when stand ups were mean, unimaginative, or unfunny.
During the 1980s, when stand up comedy really exploded in clubs all over Boston, I spent hours laughing at the greats there, including Steven Wright, Kevin Meaney, Ron Lynch, Mike Donovan, Jack Gallagher, and Barry Crimmins. I took a stand up comedy class taught by Ron Lynch and got lots of laughs at my two appearances at Open Mics, one of which also marked the debut of an unknown named Bobcat Goldthwait.
Because I love stand up so much, I introduced it to my only son when he was very young. We would watch “Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist,” which featured the incomparable Jonathan Katz and wonderful comedians (including Steven Wright, Ron Lynch, Kevin Meaney, Jack Gallagher, Ray Romano, Jon Stewart, and Garry Shandling) delivering their stand up routines lying down or sitting up on the psychiatrist’s couch. Years later, my son Aaron got into stand up comedy and was eventually introduced by my teacher and friend, Ron Lynch, for Aaron’s first appearance at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe when he was 17 years old. Since then, Aaron has appeared many times as a stand up in Edinburgh and his mother did some sit-down comedy at her own show at the Fringe called “Group Therapy with Ann.”
I still love good stand up. Just the other day, Aaron and I watched Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip, which I remember seeing with Aaron’s father in theaters when that amazing movie first came out. While the only stand up Aaron is doing these days is standing up at his computer in our basement applying to PhD programs in mathematics, we can still enjoy stand ups together.
Do you see any stand ups in my images for today?
I love the way I’m featuring my child Aaron (who is one of my favorite stand ups) in my blog on National Love Our Children Day.
Here’s an episode of “Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist” featuring Steven Wright and Kevin Meaney.
I try to compost when I can and feel guilty when I don’t.
Unless somebody hands me a napkin, I often forget to get one.
Something I have in common with my teacher, friend, and comedian’s comedian Ron Lynch is that napkins don’t like to stay in our laps. During a restaurant meal, I often have to reach down with my hand and retrieve an escaped or escaping napkin.
You have to hand it to me: I’m a creative name-dropper (and napkin-dropper).
My hands have now rewritten the title to this post several times …
Day 2537: Everything we hand you
Day 2537: Everything I hand you
Day 2537: Everything I’m handed
Day 2537: Compostable
Day 2537: Hand outs
Day 2537: Everything
… before returning to my original title. As my fiancé Michael says, “First guess, best guess.”
Now you’re going to be handed more images my hand, heart, and mind have chosen.
Sometimes, everything you’re handed can feel like too much. Please keep these thoughts at hand when you’re overwhelmed:
Today’s blogging love letter is inspired by a lovely conversation with loving WordPress blogger Debra, whom I loved meeting in Los Angeles on Friday. I told Debra that my son, Aaron, whom I love, does not read my blog and how he has told me that he will read all the letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs in my blog after I die.
I told Debra that I love that, because after I’m gone Aaron will discover that this blog is “a love letter to him, as well as to many others.”
In this daily blog, over the past six years, I have written love letters to
my son Aaron,
my boyfriend Michael,
my sister Ellen,
my parents,
my therapy groups,
group therapy,
my readers,
my ex-sister-in-law Deborah,
my ex-sister-in-law Diane,
my other ex-in-laws (including my nieces Laura, Julie, and Victoria)
my sister-in-law Linda,
my cousin Lani,
my friend Barbara,
my friend Deb,
my friend Carol,
my friend Jeanette,
friends and ex-college-roommates Marcia and Maria,
many other inspiring and/or ordinary subjects and objects.
I sometimes love linking to past blog posts and sometimes I don’t, especially when my love letter list is so long! I also don’t love leaving people off of loving lists, so I may be adding more love letters to this post, later.
I hope you don’t object to the idea that every object has a story, including all the objects in the photos I took during the last day and night of my week-long visit to Los Angeles:
I go for days like yesterday, with many objects having interesting stories (did you notice that the popcorn at Dynasty Typewriter had the story that it was “world famous?”)
Last night, I shared stories with the object of my long-time admiration, affection, and gratitude, Ron Lynch.
I don’t think other comedians would object to my describing Ron as a comedian par excellence and the host of the Tomorrow!, show, now at L.A.’s Dynasty Typewriter at the Hayworth. I didn’t object when Ron asked me to warm up the audience last night at Tomorrow! last night, so I performed my original song with the perhaps objectionable title “I Don’t Like You.”
Don, one of the guys working the show last night …
…. didn’t object to capturing the story of my performance with his cell phone. The story Don gave me is that he is going to send me the video of that performance soon.
My story right now is that I am exhausted from my early morning flight back to Boston, so I’ll have more stories tomorrow. I look forward to the objects of your stories in the comments section, below.
I will now end this post with objective and subjective gratitude to Ron, Irv Yalom (who was interviewed via Skype on the last day of the American Group Psychotherapy Association conference), the Westin Bonaventure Hotel, Dynasty Typewriter, Don, the other people at Tomorrow! last night, the city of Los Angeles, the L.A. Central Library, Ron’s and his girlfriend Shelly’s Corgi-mix dog (an object of three of the photos above), every other person, animal, location, and object who helped me with today’s blogging story, and — I hope you don’t object to being last on this long list of thanks — YOU!
Yesterday, for my birthday, I saw a great production of the wonderful play Small Mouth Sounds,about a group of six people at a silent retreat.
Before the play started, my boyfriend Michael made a small mouth sound when he noticed the incredible coincidence of his twin brother (who never goes to the theater) attending the same performance of the play. About 40 minutes into the play, I made a small mouth sound when I realized that I had neglected to leave my car key with the valet at the parking garage which was a twenty-minute walk away from the theater. I made several small mouth sounds as I wrestled with the decision of whether to disturb people in the theater to try to contact the parking garage or to stay in my seat and allow my keyless car to perhaps create havoc where I had left it.
Michael and I made small mouth sounds as we communicated silently about my dilemma, echoing the action in the play, where the characters had taken a vow of silence for a five-day mindfulness retreat. Michael mouthed and gestured “Call them!” It took me ten minutes to decide what to do while my brain made small sounds (interfering with my ability to hear the small sounds of the play) like these:
How could I have done that? Why am I realizing NOW that I forgot to leave the key? Wouldn’t it have been more effective if that thought had occurred to me during our long and circuitous walk to the theater? Could it have been the fear of being late for the play or the distraction of immediately being asked directions by another theater goer who was also confused about where the play was and who accompanied us on our search for the location? Why didn’t the parking valet run after us after realizing that I had forgotten to leave the key? Why haven’t they tried to contact me through the parking app? Have they towed my car? Is this going to ruin my or anybody else’s day? How do I get out of this long row of people and unobtrusively leave the theater when the audience is staring at each other across the center stage and the actors are maintaining such a delicate and effective balance of comedy and tragedy in this almost-silent 110-minute play without an intermission?
Eventually, I made the smallest sounds possible leaving the theater and contacting the parking garage, finally reaching somebody who made small and kind mouth sounds reassuring me that my car and everything else was okay.
After the play, Michael and his twin brother made small mouth sounds telling me what I had missed during my absence, including the cute guy in the play getting completely naked. I made a small mouth sound indicating that I thought they were kidding, but they weren’t.
Michael and I made our way back to the parking garage, making small mouth sounds all the way. There, the nice parking attendant, who had made small mouth sounds with me on the phone, told me I had left the car running, so the valet had no trouble parking it and getting it out of the way. While he was talking to us about this, he made a small mouth sound when he was informed that SOMEBODY ELSE had just left the parking garage without leaving their key. Because that car wasn’t running, somebody ran after that other forgetful parker, making large mouth sounds to call him back.
You may make small mouth sounds when you look at my latest photos:
I look forward to using that gift from Michael of the USB microphone to record the small mouth sounds of my original songs.
I also look forward to seeing my friend and comedian’s comedian Ron Lynch in L.A. at his Tomorrow Showon March 3. Here and here are YouTube videos of Ron and audience members making many mouth sounds at the Bridgetown Comedy Festival.
I’ll be making small mouth sounds of appreciation for any comment you leave, below.
I’m now making large mouth sounds of gratitude for all who helped me create this post and — of course! — YOU.
What’s your favorite photograph of every photograph you’ve ever seen?
What’s your favorite photograph that you’ve taken?
What’s your favorite photograph in today’s blog?
My favorite picture in today’s blog is the one of my stand-up comedy teacher Ron Lynch and his wonderful girlfriend, Shelly (above). Last night, Michael and I (not pictured) had dinner with Ron and Shelly at Vinnie’s Ristorante and talked about many things, including Ron’s Wikipedia page (which makes him too old by a couple of years), blogging, cupcakes, skeptics, beliefs, Steve McQueen movies, napkins, cats, Dads, pasta, the ocean, L.A., Boston, comedy, comedians, politics, the pictures of comedian Lenny Clarke on the restaurant’s walls, and many other interesting topics I’m picturing in my head, right now.
One of my keys to happiness is learning about the experience of others. So I am happy to ask you, here and now, about your keys to happiness.
Another key to happiness, for me, is sharing my thoughts and photos in this daily blog.
That’s the key to our hotel in Edinburgh, lying on a table at Petit Paris, a French restaurant we always visit here. Travel and great food are other keys to happiness, I think.
Do you see more keys to happiness in my other photos from yesterday?
It’s not imaginary that another key to happiness is associating with good humans, like my ex-sister-in-law’s husband Joe …
… and comedian Ron Lynch (who was playing in several unrecognizable keys on stage yesterday).
Here’s another Key to Happiness in recognizable keys, on YouTube.
Thanks to all who gave me every key to happiness I needed to create today’s post and to my readers (including you!) who are more keys to my happiness.
I’m seeing lots of humans (and humanity) in Edinburgh, Scotland, during the 70th Festival Fringe.
Those last three photos include extraordinary humans Ron Lynch and Natalie Palamides. Ron suggested we accompany him yesterday to see Natalie’s wonderful one-woman show, LAID (reviewed here by humans) and so we did, with many other appreciative humans. That last photo shows Natalie talking to another human who also dresses up as an egg in her one-woman Fringe show. What are the chances that more than one human would dress up as an egg at the 70th Festival Fringe?
Last night, Ron, Aaron, and I saw legendary Boston comedian and humane human Barry Crimmins share his trenchant views about humanity at another Fringe show.
Ron introduced us to Barry, saying, “She took my stand-up comedy class in Boston years ago and now he does stand up!” It’s amazing what humans can do.
Barry Crimmins, like the Edinburgh Fringe, has spent many years defying the norm. Here’s Barry with some other comedic humans:
This human likes to end her blogs with gratitude, so thanks to all the humans who helped me create today’s post and thanks to you — of course! — for being human, here and now.
The Year(s) of Living Non-Judgmentally 