A good thing this is in effect, as I have now added road repair to my list of skills. The astonishing rains of the past ten days have left a deep rut in the driveway, right where it forks. Reversing over it yesterday, before I knew it was there ha ha, the whole back of the car that got screwed on before I went to Florida got dislodged, and could now use a new couple of screws.
So far the materials used in road repair have been small stones, pine needles, kitty litter (well-known to be an especially durable patching material), and finally mud scraped off the parking pad and transported in the garden puller thing down to the rut and shoveled in to be finally covered with gravel scraped from another part of the driveway.
The chairs on the back patio have been covered and uncovered five times today, as the rain keeps on coming. I have airb&b guests on the way from Tucson, or would have left them covered.
In other news, the Marimekko trivets are now hanging on the hutch in the addition, which has freed up my favorite English Fish and Chips plates for use at the table. The holes in the Marimekko shower curtain have yet to be made bigger, which would make it usable, and there is still no curtain in the guest bathroom, just the two dollar folding paper shade that's been there since 2002. Little by slow, but nothing wrong with that.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Mercury opposed to Mercury
And I have no phone service and no outgoing email because of torrential rains yesterday.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Sun conjunct Chiron
So what do you do when the Sun conjuncts Chiron and you live in Silver City? You go to a blessing ceremony for the Gila - pronounced HEALA, of course - River as part of the annual Gila River Festival or Celebration or whatever it's called and prove to yourself just how unhealed you are by being totally unable to participate in any of the consequent rituals and ancient Sufi dances (okay, only ONE of those but still) - it's a long long way from 1674 First Avenue between 87th and 88th streets.
I did manage to hold on to the Golden Eagle feather when it got passed around and desperately try to think of a prayer to say, and when the earth was being blessed with water gathered from assorted oceans and rivers and lakes and seas I could recite that invocation along with the others, but when the Buddhist priest made his way around with the pine cone and little bowl of yet more water from I-couldn't-hear-where to anoint the willing I made sure to be in the outer circle, I passed on wading in the river to say hello and thank you and as for the Sufi dance when we were supposed to bob around chanting "Flow Free, Gila River" - well, it will take another decade or two out here before that becomes even a remote possibility.
On a slightly more down-to-earth level, I did write down on a piece of paper - commitment, you know - that I would write two lines of dialog a day, first thing in the morning after coffee and reading the Daily Mail and checking the stock market, so that that when the absurdly named 2015 Southwest Festival of the Written Word rolls around next year I could, if I felt as though I wanted to, participate at whatever level I felt comfortable at and introduce myself as a playwright to anyone who asked without feeling like a complete fraud.
That, I believe, is called making a goal and having a plan, and does come loosely under the healing umbrella. And is much much easier than participating in an ancient Sufi dance.
I did manage to hold on to the Golden Eagle feather when it got passed around and desperately try to think of a prayer to say, and when the earth was being blessed with water gathered from assorted oceans and rivers and lakes and seas I could recite that invocation along with the others, but when the Buddhist priest made his way around with the pine cone and little bowl of yet more water from I-couldn't-hear-where to anoint the willing I made sure to be in the outer circle, I passed on wading in the river to say hello and thank you and as for the Sufi dance when we were supposed to bob around chanting "Flow Free, Gila River" - well, it will take another decade or two out here before that becomes even a remote possibility.
On a slightly more down-to-earth level, I did write down on a piece of paper - commitment, you know - that I would write two lines of dialog a day, first thing in the morning after coffee and reading the Daily Mail and checking the stock market, so that that when the absurdly named 2015 Southwest Festival of the Written Word rolls around next year I could, if I felt as though I wanted to, participate at whatever level I felt comfortable at and introduce myself as a playwright to anyone who asked without feeling like a complete fraud.
That, I believe, is called making a goal and having a plan, and does come loosely under the healing umbrella. And is much much easier than participating in an ancient Sufi dance.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Sun in Six
Well in theory this is going to help me tether myself to the computer and work on the transcribing job I'm supposed to be doing, but so far - admittedly only two days in - I'm far too busy playing Lexulous in bed to get on with it.
Saturn sextile Jupiter
Well if this can pass almost unnoticed and you just have to know it's there and take advantage of it, I'm not sure where I come out.
In the past few days I have:
1. Taken the reading lamp I bought at Ikea in Florida in August out of its box, plugged it in next to the bed and can now read there without squinting.
2. Brought inside a burro's tail plant that's been on the front porch for the summer, repotted it, added the extra bits I've been growing in a separate pot and stuck it on a stand by the dining room window.
3. Re-re-potted the spider plant I split up into two and put it all in one pot to make room on the stand for the burro's tail. I did number two before I did that.
4. Taken out the sewing machine - O most miraculous of all - and altered a pair of size four Cherokee pants that I have had for three years by adding gussets and a very clumsy elasticized new half waistband so that as long as I wear a top that covers the *changes* I can wear them.
5. Written this post.
In the past few days I have:
1. Taken the reading lamp I bought at Ikea in Florida in August out of its box, plugged it in next to the bed and can now read there without squinting.
2. Brought inside a burro's tail plant that's been on the front porch for the summer, repotted it, added the extra bits I've been growing in a separate pot and stuck it on a stand by the dining room window.
3. Re-re-potted the spider plant I split up into two and put it all in one pot to make room on the stand for the burro's tail. I did number two before I did that.
4. Taken out the sewing machine - O most miraculous of all - and altered a pair of size four Cherokee pants that I have had for three years by adding gussets and a very clumsy elasticized new half waistband so that as long as I wear a top that covers the *changes* I can wear them.
5. Written this post.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Saturn square Moon
I sailed through the first two of these without even noticing but the third and final one hit with a vengeance. About all I can write really without crying but what a bitch of a transit to go through, and god only help the poor unhappy souls born with it.
Venus Opposed to Mars
Well this one got the back of the old rocking chair painted white and put in place behind the transplanted clematis to act as support - something I've been thinking about doing since the beginning of summer - painting the chair back white, that is, not putting it behind the clematis because they weren't there then.
Another lesson in full sun and full New Mexico sun - should have moved them from the front porch basically as soon as I put them there, but never mind, they have the winter to recover.
The trailing rosemary got planted as well, and as the final touch I took myself off to the university to watch a one-man show called An Iliad - the dreaded hour and three-quarters long with no intermission.
Never mind. All part of my not particularly successful attempt at following my north node and getting involved in the community.
Another lesson in full sun and full New Mexico sun - should have moved them from the front porch basically as soon as I put them there, but never mind, they have the winter to recover.
The trailing rosemary got planted as well, and as the final touch I took myself off to the university to watch a one-man show called An Iliad - the dreaded hour and three-quarters long with no intermission.
Never mind. All part of my not particularly successful attempt at following my north node and getting involved in the community.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Sun Conjunct Jupiter
And what do I do? Agree to go to a lecture by an artist on his work. Free will? No comment.
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Mercury Trine Uranus
So somebody came to paint the kitchen cabinets and I had no choice but to park myself at the computer and get some transcribing done - four hours worth of it, to be exact.
Then off to a friend's to watch the U.S. Open Mens' Finals, to find out that the Tennis Channel is always a day behind, so we watched the Women's Finals from the day before instead. You couldn't make it up.
Then off to a friend's to watch the U.S. Open Mens' Finals, to find out that the Tennis Channel is always a day behind, so we watched the Women's Finals from the day before instead. You couldn't make it up.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Mars Opposed to Ascendant
Oh blimey, I thought, when I saw this, knowing I was playing doubles tennis and then a word game I'd never played before with two people I didn't know that well.
Sailed through both of those activities - deliberately keeping my mouth shut a bit at the word game - and even sharing a book of tickets for tastes at local restaurants with a friend was, er, a piece of cake; no arguments, no 'I'd rather go here', 'I don't want to do that', no disagreements over samplings that took two tickets, both in perfect agreement that we didn't want to taste the mesquite tortilla with agave nectar at the museum - lovely lovely morning and early afternoon. No fights with cashier in supermarket, no fist-shaking from motorists on the way home.
Loverly jubberly, life is good. Astrology is a wonderful tool, giving you awareness of influences at work in your life and enabling you to maneuver your way through the trickiest of circumstances if you stay conscious, not that there were any tricky circumstances to maneuver around. Hey, them planets can't be right all the time.
Hah! When will I learn? Never, obviously. Home to a message on the machine from the wonderful man-in-his-nineties in New York who I worked with years ago on an esoteric book he has had on sale on Amazon for four years. He has had a sale and can't understand the email. Could I call? And silly dopey gormless clueless fools rush in where you-know-the-rest picks up the phone and calls back.
Seller account? He doesn't have a seller account.
Well you must have, I say, or you wouldn't have anything for sale on Amazon. And knowing the answer before the question even formulates in my head, off I go - do you know your password?
Password? He doesn't have a password.
Well you must have, I say, or you wouldn't have been able to set up the seller account you think you don't have. I don't say the last five words out loud. What do you usually use for a password?
He doesn't have a password. Never had a password. For anything. Nobody ever asked him for a password. Password? Password? What am I talking about?
OK. Click on the Seller Account link and try to log in, I say, and there'll be something telling you what to do if you've forgotten your password that you've never had, I say, omitting the last four words and thinking I will never go to heaven.
Seller Account link? What Seller Account link? THAT Seller Account link, the one in the email they sent you. Which email? The one you're calling me about.
Best to draw a veil over the next ten minutes as we have several long-distance attempts for me to talk him through resetting the password he never had. Reading about the possibility of the password reset email going to his junk folder, which of course he has also never had, sends him over the top and, angry at himself for not being able to complete the transaction, guilty for taking up my time and humiliated at being what he calls so stupid, he is ready to forget the whole thing and not fulfill the order - the first order he has had in four years.
Much as I would also like to forget the whole thing I have a deep and enduring affection for this man I worked with so closely and have watched age over the past decade and say I will attempt to contact Amazon Customer Service and see if they can help.
I google ACS and get a phone number. I call. I tell them my name and then tell them it's not for me it's for - brief precis of the above. Let me put you through to Seller Support, they say. I get put through to Seller Support and explain I'm calling for an elderly man 2,500 miles away, brief precis #2, and I would like to get the shipping address for the sale he has just had. Yes I have his email address, yes I have his billing address, yes I have the order number.
Do I have the last four digits of the credit card he registered with Amazon when he set up the account? Er, now that you mention it, no. Let me call him back and get back to you. Do you have a direct number so I don't have to repeat all of this? Again, me being so psychic and all I know the answer to this before I ask it, and call A back to get the last four digits of his credit card number.
He gives me - after a suitable pause/hunt for credit card etc. - four digits. I call ACS back and ask for Seller Support. Naturally before I get SS I have to give the seller's email and billing address etc. etc. No problem, now I have Seller Support, repeat my speech, give the last four numbers of the credit card - nope. No luck. Not the right four numbers. How about the last four numbers of his bank account? That would do.
OK. Back to the Bronx, given last four numbers of bank account after much discussion about routing numbers, account numbers, check numbers, weird little symbols that look like question marks etc., repeat the phone call, no luck, wrong numbers.
Decide cannot give up now and ask A to read me ALL numbers along the bottom of a check. Funny little thing that looked like a question mark turns out to a "7". First number he gave me is incorrect. Call ACS and get Seller Support and bingo! Checking account number correct. Thank God. Please may I have the ship to address for the order.
Well no, we can't give you that, but we can send a link so Seller can reset his password. Say first three people I talked to in Seller Support were ready to give me ship to address if I could provide all information requested. No no no, not our policy but we can send link for resetting password.
Back to the Bronx. Have you checked your email? No. OK, go and see - lo and behold! A 'reset your password" email. Twenty minutes by the clock and the password, which of course never existed in the first place, is reset, except that once we are finally - only 90 minutes from the beginning of my call back - in his Seller Account, according to him, nowhere in the email does it tell him the Ship To address for the order.
Reader, I no longer remember too much more. I know he found a Contact Buyer button. I know I told him to click on it. I know he asked me what to say. I know I told him to say "Thank you for your order. Please send me the shipping address." I know he asked me if he should say anything else and I know I said no. I know I told him to hit the Send button. I know he told me he got an Error message saying "Please Choose a Subject." I know I spent a lot of time explaining what a subject was. I know I spent a lot of time pointing out that if *it* said "Please Choose a Subject" there was a little triangle somewhere that would give him a CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. I know my voice had been getting progressively louder for the 120 minutes I had been on the phone. I know I told him I was expecting a phone call and would have to hang up but that I would call back tomorrow and we would sort it out. I know that if my horoscope tells me I can expect stiff opposition it will come to me one way or another, even if not quite the way astrodienst explains it will.
Sailed through both of those activities - deliberately keeping my mouth shut a bit at the word game - and even sharing a book of tickets for tastes at local restaurants with a friend was, er, a piece of cake; no arguments, no 'I'd rather go here', 'I don't want to do that', no disagreements over samplings that took two tickets, both in perfect agreement that we didn't want to taste the mesquite tortilla with agave nectar at the museum - lovely lovely morning and early afternoon. No fights with cashier in supermarket, no fist-shaking from motorists on the way home.
Loverly jubberly, life is good. Astrology is a wonderful tool, giving you awareness of influences at work in your life and enabling you to maneuver your way through the trickiest of circumstances if you stay conscious, not that there were any tricky circumstances to maneuver around. Hey, them planets can't be right all the time.
Hah! When will I learn? Never, obviously. Home to a message on the machine from the wonderful man-in-his-nineties in New York who I worked with years ago on an esoteric book he has had on sale on Amazon for four years. He has had a sale and can't understand the email. Could I call? And silly dopey gormless clueless fools rush in where you-know-the-rest picks up the phone and calls back.
Seller account? He doesn't have a seller account.
Well you must have, I say, or you wouldn't have anything for sale on Amazon. And knowing the answer before the question even formulates in my head, off I go - do you know your password?
Password? He doesn't have a password.
Well you must have, I say, or you wouldn't have been able to set up the seller account you think you don't have. I don't say the last five words out loud. What do you usually use for a password?
He doesn't have a password. Never had a password. For anything. Nobody ever asked him for a password. Password? Password? What am I talking about?
OK. Click on the Seller Account link and try to log in, I say, and there'll be something telling you what to do if you've forgotten your password that you've never had, I say, omitting the last four words and thinking I will never go to heaven.
Seller Account link? What Seller Account link? THAT Seller Account link, the one in the email they sent you. Which email? The one you're calling me about.
Best to draw a veil over the next ten minutes as we have several long-distance attempts for me to talk him through resetting the password he never had. Reading about the possibility of the password reset email going to his junk folder, which of course he has also never had, sends him over the top and, angry at himself for not being able to complete the transaction, guilty for taking up my time and humiliated at being what he calls so stupid, he is ready to forget the whole thing and not fulfill the order - the first order he has had in four years.
Much as I would also like to forget the whole thing I have a deep and enduring affection for this man I worked with so closely and have watched age over the past decade and say I will attempt to contact Amazon Customer Service and see if they can help.
I google ACS and get a phone number. I call. I tell them my name and then tell them it's not for me it's for - brief precis of the above. Let me put you through to Seller Support, they say. I get put through to Seller Support and explain I'm calling for an elderly man 2,500 miles away, brief precis #2, and I would like to get the shipping address for the sale he has just had. Yes I have his email address, yes I have his billing address, yes I have the order number.
Do I have the last four digits of the credit card he registered with Amazon when he set up the account? Er, now that you mention it, no. Let me call him back and get back to you. Do you have a direct number so I don't have to repeat all of this? Again, me being so psychic and all I know the answer to this before I ask it, and call A back to get the last four digits of his credit card number.
He gives me - after a suitable pause/hunt for credit card etc. - four digits. I call ACS back and ask for Seller Support. Naturally before I get SS I have to give the seller's email and billing address etc. etc. No problem, now I have Seller Support, repeat my speech, give the last four numbers of the credit card - nope. No luck. Not the right four numbers. How about the last four numbers of his bank account? That would do.
OK. Back to the Bronx, given last four numbers of bank account after much discussion about routing numbers, account numbers, check numbers, weird little symbols that look like question marks etc., repeat the phone call, no luck, wrong numbers.
Decide cannot give up now and ask A to read me ALL numbers along the bottom of a check. Funny little thing that looked like a question mark turns out to a "7". First number he gave me is incorrect. Call ACS and get Seller Support and bingo! Checking account number correct. Thank God. Please may I have the ship to address for the order.
Well no, we can't give you that, but we can send a link so Seller can reset his password. Say first three people I talked to in Seller Support were ready to give me ship to address if I could provide all information requested. No no no, not our policy but we can send link for resetting password.
Back to the Bronx. Have you checked your email? No. OK, go and see - lo and behold! A 'reset your password" email. Twenty minutes by the clock and the password, which of course never existed in the first place, is reset, except that once we are finally - only 90 minutes from the beginning of my call back - in his Seller Account, according to him, nowhere in the email does it tell him the Ship To address for the order.
Reader, I no longer remember too much more. I know he found a Contact Buyer button. I know I told him to click on it. I know he asked me what to say. I know I told him to say "Thank you for your order. Please send me the shipping address." I know he asked me if he should say anything else and I know I said no. I know I told him to hit the Send button. I know he told me he got an Error message saying "Please Choose a Subject." I know I spent a lot of time explaining what a subject was. I know I spent a lot of time pointing out that if *it* said "Please Choose a Subject" there was a little triangle somewhere that would give him a CHOICE OF SUBJECTS. I know my voice had been getting progressively louder for the 120 minutes I had been on the phone. I know I told him I was expecting a phone call and would have to hang up but that I would call back tomorrow and we would sort it out. I know that if my horoscope tells me I can expect stiff opposition it will come to me one way or another, even if not quite the way astrodienst explains it will.
Mercury conjunct Neptune square Saturn
No idea how this fitted into the equation yesterday, what Mars sextiling the Midheaven and Venus trining Venus as well. All I know is two friends came over for a finger food lunch, I introduced them to Upwords and ended up with the lowest score.
But wait - Saturn was indeed lurking around as I got an email from the client I'm supposedly doing a transcribing job for that I can scarcely bring myself to work on, and we are to speak today about final corrections on a finished interview. How could I forget? So I am going to try to be a big girl and WORK - because it is WORK - on the transcribing job for a couple of hours before we speak at five. Gloom descends as I write that last sentence.
Perhaps Mercury being in six now will help, she said unconvincingly....
But wait - Saturn was indeed lurking around as I got an email from the client I'm supposedly doing a transcribing job for that I can scarcely bring myself to work on, and we are to speak today about final corrections on a finished interview. How could I forget? So I am going to try to be a big girl and WORK - because it is WORK - on the transcribing job for a couple of hours before we speak at five. Gloom descends as I write that last sentence.
Perhaps Mercury being in six now will help, she said unconvincingly....
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
Sun Opposed to Mars
I always forget (!) that this is going to come after the Sun squares Uranus, but thank god it did, because I was still reeling from the snake incident when I got a call at five pm asking if it would be OK if the kitchen got painted today - meaning I had to swing into action mode immediately, even if my head was full of snake and what am I doing here.
Somewhat lost in all of this was a trine from Venus to Mercury, supposedly promising me a day of pleasant thoughts, easy intellectual exchanges with other people and general light-heartedness and good times. Ha! The slowest moving planet wins, and all that.
I was hoping I could slip in the kitchen cabinets as a little extra for M and S to paint, as well as the walls and ceiling, but no such luck. They have other work and planned to knock the kitchen out in one day, so I'm now faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not I remove the hinges from the kitchen cabinets before I paint them or do what my Aries self wants me to do and paint around them, a la Slapdash Studio.
Assuming that I'm taking the appearance of the snake as a little sign for me to shed my old skin and do things differently, it's the former. Assuming you can't teach an old dog new tricks, it will be the latter, Mars opposed to the Sun or not.
Somewhat lost in all of this was a trine from Venus to Mercury, supposedly promising me a day of pleasant thoughts, easy intellectual exchanges with other people and general light-heartedness and good times. Ha! The slowest moving planet wins, and all that.
I was hoping I could slip in the kitchen cabinets as a little extra for M and S to paint, as well as the walls and ceiling, but no such luck. They have other work and planned to knock the kitchen out in one day, so I'm now faced with the moral dilemma of whether or not I remove the hinges from the kitchen cabinets before I paint them or do what my Aries self wants me to do and paint around them, a la Slapdash Studio.
Assuming that I'm taking the appearance of the snake as a little sign for me to shed my old skin and do things differently, it's the former. Assuming you can't teach an old dog new tricks, it will be the latter, Mars opposed to the Sun or not.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Sun Square Uranus
I knew there was going to be an Appointment in Samarra element to today when I cancelled my original plan of going to Big O Tires after tennis lesson to get the front left tire checked and came straight back to the house in a pitiful attempt to avoid the consequences of having the Sun square Uranus right at the time I'd have been at Big O.
I avoided those consequences all right but what I didn't avoid was the reappearance of the snake from yesterday, smack in the middle of the living room, where it went to ground under the ottoman, leaving me feeling sick, shaken, panicked and most of all clueless.
I mean what do you do when you have a snake under the ottoman in your living room? None of the advice columns I've read ever touched on the issue, presumably, of course, because no one ever asked them the question, but still...
First thing to do was remove Good Girl, down on her belly sticking her front paws as far under the ottoman as she could reach. That was easy. Put cat in addition, close door. Call friend 600 miles away and explain predicament. Get increasingly panicked while explaining and hang up to call Animal Control. Cannot find Animal Control in phone book, call High Desert and ask for number. Given number of Gila Wildlife Rescue who saved me once again from the perils of living on a dirt road off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
Very simple solution, really. Get a broom, get a box, sweep snake into box, take outside, go as far away from house as possible, release snake. Piece o'cake. Spend rest of day feeling sick, shaken and panicked but - aha! - no longer clueless.
I avoided those consequences all right but what I didn't avoid was the reappearance of the snake from yesterday, smack in the middle of the living room, where it went to ground under the ottoman, leaving me feeling sick, shaken, panicked and most of all clueless.
I mean what do you do when you have a snake under the ottoman in your living room? None of the advice columns I've read ever touched on the issue, presumably, of course, because no one ever asked them the question, but still...
First thing to do was remove Good Girl, down on her belly sticking her front paws as far under the ottoman as she could reach. That was easy. Put cat in addition, close door. Call friend 600 miles away and explain predicament. Get increasingly panicked while explaining and hang up to call Animal Control. Cannot find Animal Control in phone book, call High Desert and ask for number. Given number of Gila Wildlife Rescue who saved me once again from the perils of living on a dirt road off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
Very simple solution, really. Get a broom, get a box, sweep snake into box, take outside, go as far away from house as possible, release snake. Piece o'cake. Spend rest of day feeling sick, shaken and panicked but - aha! - no longer clueless.
Monday, September 1, 2014
Jupiter Sextile Uranus One More Time
OK, so I run into people I've been feeling guilty about ignoring for months (a good thing, in case you wondered - the running into them, not the ignoring), I'm offered the chance to make a little bit of money over the winter, Michael Lutin turns out to have a speaking engagement only five hours from where I live and then a submission opportunity that a play of mine actually fits pops up in my mailbox.
Full length? Check.
Unpublished? Check again.
Unproduced? Definitely.
Comedic? Black, but also a check.
Submission deadline? Midnight last night, just as Jupiter-Uranus aspect perfects.
Complete Jupiter-Uranus woo-woo factor? Play deals with death of the Princess of Wales, yesterday was 17th anniversary of *the fatal car crash*
Requirements: ten sample pages, resume, synopsis of play and cover letter.
Synopsis and cover letter I have, ten sample pages takes me a couple of hours to pick out - I did five from Act I and five from Act II and had to reformat it all as switching to Word from Final Draft stripped out all the formatting, I added character breakdown and all that stuff, cover letter takes more time than I want to admit, and just as I'm about to hit "send" I notice the email address for submissions to the theater has dot org at the end instead of dot com.
A quick google, and I realize I'm sending the play off to a non-profit dedicated to spreading cancer awareness, not quite the venue one would choose for a black comedy about an embittered middle-aged woman's search for her father, most of it in appalling bad rhyming couplets.
Nothing ventured nothing gained and all that, and I hit "send" anyway, looking on the bright side and realizing I now had a Word document I could send as a submission enquiry to a theater where I might have a remote chance of the play even being considered, should I, of course, ever sit down and actually research theaters in the U.K. that might take something unsolicited.
Shaking her head ruefully, she got up from her desk chair and went to the kitchen, where so help me god so help me jesus there on the floor by the french doors, presumably having just slithered its way under the door from the back patio, was a snake - not a very long one and not a very fat one but a frigging snake none-the-less - on the kitchen floor and about to wriggle off into the pantry and make itself at home curled up by the vacuum cleaner for ever unless I, Pamela Rose Reeves, having lived in a city for 67 of my 69 years, did something about it.
It involved a broom and a lot of hopping about and yelping, but I did it, and I leave it to you, Tonstant Weader, as Dorothy Parker said in her review of "The House at Pooh Corner" in The New Yorker, to google the symbolism of snakes by yourself.
Full length? Check.
Unpublished? Check again.
Unproduced? Definitely.
Comedic? Black, but also a check.
Submission deadline? Midnight last night, just as Jupiter-Uranus aspect perfects.
Complete Jupiter-Uranus woo-woo factor? Play deals with death of the Princess of Wales, yesterday was 17th anniversary of *the fatal car crash*
Requirements: ten sample pages, resume, synopsis of play and cover letter.
Synopsis and cover letter I have, ten sample pages takes me a couple of hours to pick out - I did five from Act I and five from Act II and had to reformat it all as switching to Word from Final Draft stripped out all the formatting, I added character breakdown and all that stuff, cover letter takes more time than I want to admit, and just as I'm about to hit "send" I notice the email address for submissions to the theater has dot org at the end instead of dot com.
A quick google, and I realize I'm sending the play off to a non-profit dedicated to spreading cancer awareness, not quite the venue one would choose for a black comedy about an embittered middle-aged woman's search for her father, most of it in appalling bad rhyming couplets.
Nothing ventured nothing gained and all that, and I hit "send" anyway, looking on the bright side and realizing I now had a Word document I could send as a submission enquiry to a theater where I might have a remote chance of the play even being considered, should I, of course, ever sit down and actually research theaters in the U.K. that might take something unsolicited.
Shaking her head ruefully, she got up from her desk chair and went to the kitchen, where so help me god so help me jesus there on the floor by the french doors, presumably having just slithered its way under the door from the back patio, was a snake - not a very long one and not a very fat one but a frigging snake none-the-less - on the kitchen floor and about to wriggle off into the pantry and make itself at home curled up by the vacuum cleaner for ever unless I, Pamela Rose Reeves, having lived in a city for 67 of my 69 years, did something about it.
It involved a broom and a lot of hopping about and yelping, but I did it, and I leave it to you, Tonstant Weader, as Dorothy Parker said in her review of "The House at Pooh Corner" in The New Yorker, to google the symbolism of snakes by yourself.
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