In which Baby J surfs down the giant wall on his stroller

So, here's the story. M and I were at a baseball game with my family, and for fun, we rode the train and a bus to the game. Takes longer, but enjoyed by all. We were AT the game (at least an hour away from our house) when I got a call from partner, who frantically told me the story of what had happened that evening.

He had gotten the stroller out to take J to the store to get something, set the brake at the top of our giant hill, and leaned back into the car to get the garage door opener. Then he heard, "You've got to catch it!" and saw J rolling, standing up on the stroller, down the hill, over the retaining wall (two levels), and on to the ground. He jumped down the bank and picked up screaming J, and took him to children's where they checked for head injuries and such, and x-rays, and he ended up having a broken arm. Or, a buckled arm, which is what they call it when their little bones are still flexible and don't quite break, but bend instead. Either way, he got a cast in Lightning McQueen red and a teeny little sling that I can't quite get over, the teeny-ness, and the trooper-ness of the little guy wearing it.

Dreamgirls, or, "I don't DO backup!"

So my partner was on a retreat for the past three days and I got several girly movies (by the way, Georgia Rule is entertaining but strangely not that great). One of them was Dreamgirls, mostly for the musical aspect. I just saw Mamma Mia and was anticipating something like that...with some heavy themes, but mostly fun and great music and fluff.

Well, Dreamgirls is not that movie. I found myself bizarrely and unexpectedly identifying with one of the main characters, Effie White. Clearly I am not a gorgeous third of a girl group with a huge voice trying to break into music in the late 60s. But there were things about the movie, and in particular, her character, that felt familiar to me as I work out my call, and where I'll be for my next call.

The dreamgirls don't win a talent show, in spite of their obvious talent, and how amazing Effie is when she sings lead. Right after, they're talking about if they should just quit the music stuff altogether when Jamie Foxx (forget his movie name) walks up and offers them a job ($400 a week!) singing backup for Jimmy Early (Eddie Murphy, fabulously coiffed). They're excited, until you see Effie's face, and she says, "I don't DO backup."

At this point in the movie and for many minutes afterward I was like, "YES, girl! you don't DO backup! You deserve better! You know how good you are!" And I was sort of talking about myself and preaching, and associate gigs, and all that kind of stuff.

But halfway through the movie, things change a bit. Effie falls down on her luck. She won't look for a job because "singing is all I know how to do," even though at this point she has to support a daughter. She won't "lose the attitude" even though that might get her a job singing, which is the point, right? I started feeling like Effie needed to be realistic about her options, and as one character says, "you make it all about YOU." She did get screwed, but life goes on, and it takes her a long time to get where she can just sing, without worrying about what she deserves or where she SHOULD be or what she SHOULD have.

Eventually, the truth comes out, and she does get what she deserves, both financially and musically...it's satisfying, but not in a terribly sappy way, especially for a musical.

I came away thinking that it's always a struggle, and not just in the music profession, or in MY profession. We all have to figure out what the balance is between being true to what we're called to do at all costs and being able to work in our chosen field and get paid for it. It's not exactly compromise, as I'd never suggest that someone should compromise her basic beliefs or call, but it's something like knowing that indeed, it's not about you, and sometimes (Bull Durham reference alert!) going to the ballpark and getting paid to do it is enough.

Addict

I've known this for a long time, but I am addicted to running.

I had a nasty cough last week and into this week, and although I ran at the very beginning of it (in denial, you might say!), I had not run at all for 10 days. The cough and the wheeze got so bad that I actually went to the doctor and got drugs, which I try to reserve for the truly nasty stuff.

Through all of this coughing and not running business, my in-laws were here for a week, I had TWO job interviews, got turned down for one, threw a wedding shower for my sister-in-law, had houseguests again, and yesterday said goodbye to my partner as he went out of town, out of reach at a retreat, for three days.

I was a screaming cranky banshee for several days. I was tired, I was whiny, I was WAY impatient with my kids. And then today, during Sesame Street (O let its name be praised!) I got on the treadmill and ran for 30 minutes. And I am a new being, and I am patient and kind and did not lose my shit while doing errands, and although I am still wheezy I am going to get up and do it again tomorrow.

I think this is because a few weeks ago (see a few posts below) I had sort of ramped up my running...I was running 20 miles a week and doing it at a faster pace than I had before. And I felt SO SO SO good.

So I swear it was withdrawal these past 10 days! And that my main way of dealing with stress is to just pound it out on the sidewalk.