Marrying George Clooney

the tacky tourist site. is this not amazing???!!!!!!! fabulous. funny. brilliant. “marrying george clooney” at madame tussands in vegas.

THIS IS SO VERY GROOVY & COOL, and i am so excited about this. check this out folks, from my new friend darren.
This is their George Clooney marriage documentation project, plus a link to their tacky tourist photo site.

holy mother of god…

the wax museum itself and their celebration of it!
you gotta love this.

168/49
24/7 times 7
that’s what it looks like.
ken & amy. 24/7. seven days a week.
i’m just hoping & praying & bringing together & calling on angels and goddesses and gods of the sun & moon, and prayer beads …
that we don’t turn into
edie & little edie
GREY GARDENS (PART DEUX-DEUX)
and of course, daniel day lewis will play ken.

yes, yes….
Yes!
How about a whole lifetime of kindness, courage, compassion, forgiveness, & tolerance.
how about we go out of our way to make someone feel special every single day. maybe someone who doesn’t feel so special.
how about we go the extra inch.
how about in the name of phoebe prince & every child and every adult who was (is) bullied that we do something every single day to counter-act this behavior of bullying & intolerance & taunting.
thank you for all your responses and comments, both personally & on my blog & in my e-mails.

thank you so.

she was fifteen years old and she hung herself. she hung herself from a stairwell in her home.
nine teenagers are being charged with bullying her.
severe taunting. physical threats.
constant texting with vile obscenities.

we must teach our children the power of kindness, the importance of tolerance, the profundity of generosity, the sustainability of compassion.

please, today, sit down with your children. look them in the eye, and tell them that hatred and bullying and taunting, and hurting others is no longer in fashion. it’s passe.

please. make a difference.

i would like to dedicate a full day of kindness & generosity & compassion in the name of phoebe.

i am on the board of directors at an amazing, magical place: PETERS VALLEY CRAFT CENTER.
It is truly a place that turns a piece of ordinary clay into the most exquisite vessel or bowl.
i don’t need to ramble on about this, I could, but I won’t.
the reason for my wrting to day is that peter valley offers and hosts some fabulous weekday & weekend workshops:
blacksmithing, ceramics, fibers, fine metals, photography, woodworking, weaving, painting, printing, jewelry, silversmithing. oh god the list and opportunites are long.

there are instructors at PV that will truly take your breath away. we’re lucky to have them.

I hope, in your decisions about doing something special for yourself, or a loved one, that you add our crafts center to your list.
and as an added treat …oh, yes… someone will win the wine & cheese tasting at the home of amy & ken ferris. a night to remember.
please, join us this summer.
create beauty.
share your gifts.

we are filled with magic in the valley.

to register, and check out the webste: www.petersvalley.org
thank you.
happy sunday, folks!

i’m trying to embrace this whole retirement thing.
i am.
i keep making believe that ken is on vacation.
a long vacation.
i keep making believe that he needs some R & R.
a lot of R & R.
i keep making believe that we’re on a reality show, and we’re being followed by cameras, so i try try to be on my best behavior.
this is not working.
i shooed and pushed the imaginary cameras away yesterday because i needed to tell ken that i did not appreciate the fact that when he in fact asks me my opinion and i ramble on and on with a blow by blow that his eyes glaze over and i can tell that he really didn’t want my opinion. that bothered me. so i shooed the imaginary and make believe reality show people out of my house. go away i said. go away.

yesterday we had a conversation (which should have been imaginary) about how maybe we should think about traveling around the country, you know, in an RV, or a maybe a sports car. truthfully, honestly…i can envision that as easily as i can envision myself in a teeny itsy bitsy bikini laying on a beach in say st. barts surrounded by girls in the early 20’s with perfectly toned bodies splashing each other and saying shit like: THIS IS SOooooooo MUCH FUN.

i really don’t know how people do this whole retirement thing.

i was watching the news last night and felt sick to my stomach. the hatred. the virulent horrifying hatred. the tea parties, and the death threats and the racial slurs and the homophobic slurs, the overwhelming nastiness and the cruelty and the violence and the promise of punishing and the violent threats. i watch the news and i feel sick and scared and want to scream.
i watch the news and sarah palin is posting practice targets telling her followers to re-load, and glenn beck is pushing the envelope, demanding his tv audience to cause a ruckus. and no, NO  – it’s not just one sided – we attack each other. we sling shit back and forth. you call me a name, i call you a name. it’s vile. it’s a big gigantic bully fest. i watch the news and i wonder how anyone in their right (no pun intended) mind can feel good about pushing their communities, and their neighbors, and their voters into a frenzy of pure unadulterated hate.

we don’t respect each other. we don’t respect the difference of opinion. there is no tolerance.

and, it’s not just politics.
it’s very, very personal.

i live in a small town – a wonderful small town. filled with a mixture of much right & some left & a few green & independents, a town filled with a lot of good & a lot of bad, a few black & a lot white & a couple of latinos, and asian, and as we all know a small town can breed a lot of small mindedness. yes, it’s true, you can sit in a local bar and within a half an hour witness the anger and the hatred and the misinformed bubbling up, brewing. and you can argue and fight, but that would lead to headlines or morning news. and what would be the point? really?

it all began somewhere. two three four five generations ago. and it was passed down to the next generation.

and the next, and the next… and yes, the next.

we call each other horrible, nasty, awful names and we probably truthfully don’t even know why.

it’s a history of hate.
it has a beginning.
it has a middle.

can we please change the ending?

my husband is on the phone with someone in mumbai and my ken, my wonderful ken, is speaking like yes, an automated savant. repeating everything four, five times, each time with a different slang … a different tone, a different emphasis on a different word, and now.. right now this moment he is speaking with an accent… although he was just informed … right now… that he is no longer talking to someone named john (hence, ken’s ‘accent’) but he is now on the phone with john’s supervisor, tiffany, who is in apparently in nevada.
this is all over the fact that someone stole our credit card information, and bought 15 – count ‘em, 15 – power juicers. 15 frickin’ power juicers and no one in mumbai or nevada seems to think this is strange, an oddity, a huge purchase.

oh, wait… a blow by blow…the person in nevada just helped ken. she was confusing the power juicers with the george foreman grills.

of course, who wouldn’t buy 15 george foreman grills?

he is getting off the phone.

i have to say, this has been a good retirement day for ken.

in my dream she had dementia.
she wasn’t young & gorgeous & vibrant as some of her photos remind me. in my dream last night we were going to a friends birthday party. she had asked me if she could come with me to the party, and i said yes of course.  i dressed her in a mint green outfit that she had once loved to wear. delighted, she asked if we could walk to the party, not take a cab or drive. so, we walked. and walked and  walked, and held hands, said just a few words. she was so excited to be out and about. she was in awe of all the apartment buildings and she giggled alot. and then when we got to the party, she turned to me and asked:
how do i look?
and i gently moved the hair out of her eyes, and I said, “you look just so beautiful mom. beautiful.”
and she said to me:
“you must be looking in a mirror.”

we made our way into the restaurant, and there were all my girlfriends, and i introduced them all by saying, “this is my mom.”

and i was so proud of her.

i could feel her today. there aren’t many days i feel her. today i feel her.