Tag: Rockford

Love, sex and anger

My husband reading my blog. I don’t get it either.

Content Warning: My husband doesn’t ask much of me, but he is rather insistent I write this daily blog. He has been absurdly supportive of my writing habit since day one. I do not wholly understand this as I have not always been supportive of his acting habit. Our marriage is sometimes one-sided. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you stop reading.

This morning I was reading The Anthropocene Reviewed by John Green. In the chapter “Bonneville Salt Flats” the author writes about when he and his wife’s gazes meet and entwine as they look at a third thing.

This “meet and entwine” concept is something Green learned about from Donald Hall who wrote about his late wife.

“We did not spend our days gazing into each other’s eyes. We did that gazing when we made love or when one of us was in trouble, but most of the time our gazes met and entwined as they looked at a third thing.”

-Donald Hall

First of all…made love? Keep that to yourself.

Moving on: Hall wrote about the “third thing” first, then Green. My turn.

If I’m understanding Green and Hall correctly, a third thing can be a piece of art, a book, a concert, a play, a child, a mountain or whatever. It’s something that you look at with wonder, then notice your partner looking at it with wonder and then you gaze at each other with wonder. It’s called ROMANCE.

All this gazing and wondering pisses me off. Shared moments. Sidelong glances. Eye contact. Knock it off, people! Or at least stop writing about it.

What if we pushed each other a little more to be independent? What if we didn’t need to discuss and critique and “get each other?”

I want to bring back looking at your partner and thinking any (or all) of the following:

*WTF?

*Why?

*WHY?!?!

*WTF?!?!?

Now these are the moments that make a marriage. My marriage anyway. These are the moments that shake faith, erode trust and create the grit necessary to pack in decades of monogamy. These are the moments that hold secrecy, shame and fear. That’s my kind of adventure!

The alternative:

Symbol by Alexander Liberman stands nearly 50 feet tall on the bike path in Rockford.

Jesse and I go for a nice walk. Jesse looks at Symbol. Then I look at Symbol. Then we look at each other with a love and appreciation of Symbol, Rockford and each other.

No! No, no, no, no, no.

We fight. We yell. We undermine. We hate. We judge. All within one simple, sunny day! And you know what? It’s fine. It’s a part of marriage. Ours, at least.

Thanks for reading. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go make love to Jesse. -Connie

P.S. This blog is an example of what you shouldn’t write about: your marriage, your sex life and your anger. It could scare people!

Symbol’s undercarriage.

Hey Siri, do birds have groins?

It’s the last day of March and I woke up to a snowfall so bright it hurt my eyes to look at it. I was instantly annoyed.

God, snow, go away, I’m sick of your ass.

By now I’ve usually planted some lettuce or kale in the gardens. Not this year. Our backyard is still a mix of cold mud, frozen weeds and shame. There is no joy in… mudville.

The winter won’t let go and I’m not sure why. Was it something I said?

I’ve decided to write a haiku to guilt the winter into leaving. 

Aches to feed his young
Robin pecks at icy earth
Breaks back, pulls groin, dies

I hope my poem works. Until it does, I’m going to brew some tea, raise the thermostat, put on another layer of clothes and fill up the bird feeders. Thanks for reading. -Connie

Lend me your (wood) ears

My 15-year-old son Sam and I went mushrooming today for the first time since December. Neither of us were expecting much but we wanted to get a jump on the season, and some fresh air. We went to Aldeen Park, a city park in the center of Rockford. I followed Sam as he led me several yards off the trail.

“I think I see wood ear,” he said as he took off.

“Really?” I shouted after him. “Are you sure?!”

Sure enough, he had found several of the species. He’s found them before and brought them back to me, but this is the first time I have seen them on the tree. This little guy was “born” last fall, but is still very soft.

It’s really quite a joy to find these little guys. Their scientific name is Auricularia auricula and it’s just a joyful little fungus. Below is the same wood ear, turned inside out. It flips just as easily as a dog ear.

The instant Sam turned the specimen “inside out” the fungus stopped being a mushroom and “became” the ear of a mythical animal. It looked and felt like the inside of a mysterious ear and we both felt like we were invading its privacy. Sam closed it up and we kept hiking. It’s been several years since I felt this way but there are times when I am convinced the woods want to be alone.

We didn’t stay much longer but we did stop to check on our old pal the artist conk. We wanted to see if he grew from the last time we saw him in November. And he did! It’s pretty amazing how he just hides in plain sight getting bigger every day, kind of like someone else I know.

Hey, it’s another late night (and short) blog. Thanks for reading and remember to watch what you say in the woods. You never know who’s listening. -Connie

You have that look!

There are two more books not pictured. Sam and Fern moved them to the dining room.

My kids started their spring break today. Sam, Fern, Angelo and I celebrated by going to the library to stock up on books. Jocelyn celebrated by waking up with a sore throat. She’s still working her way through Stephen King’s The Green Mile so in terms of reading material, she’s set. But I hate that she’s not feeling well.

Anyway, Angelo went upstairs to the children’s section and Fern headed to the teen center. Sam and I went to the stacks to search for a specific book. While we were there, a gentleman came up to me and asked me a question about the library’s 3-D printer.

“I’m not sure,” I told him. “I’ve never used it.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought you worked here. You have that look.”

I’m not sure what “look” he meant. I was (and am) wearing mom jeans, a turtleneck and Chucks. And as someone who has been to the library hundreds of times, I will tell you the librarians at Hart Interim always look professional. There’s a clerk who has worked there as long as we’ve lived here; he always looks dapper in his sweater, tie, pressed pants and tidy shoes.

After the man went away, I focused my attention back to book-finding. Sam and I continued scouring the stacks for The Road to Serfdom. When he told me it was published in the 1970’s, maybe earlier, I had a lightbulb moment.

“It’s too old to be in the stacks,” I told him. “I just assumed you were looking for a newer book.”

I said we had to ask the librarian to call down for it because they keep “old” books downstairs.

“I would,” she said, “but I’m the only librarian here so I can’t go down to the basement.”

“No worries,” I said. “I’ll just order a hold online.”

We have plenty of books to tide us over and I don’t mind ordering Sam’s book online for him. What concerns me is that she was the only librarian on duty. Doesn’t that seem unsafe?

Rockford, population 150,000, isn’t an enormous metropolis, but any building open to the public should have more than one person working in it. I will say there was a security officer there, too, but that still isn’t enough.

And that poor man who wanted to get into the lab? He’s probably still wandering around, asking strangers for help, desperately telling them, “You have that look!”

I’m being silly. He’s probably figured it out and I’m sure the librarian knows how to take care of business.

All in all, I’m glad the library was open and I’m looking forward to digging in.

Thanks for reading! -Connie

Reminder: Under a deadline to finish a play so my blog entries are shorter and less “thought out” than usual. Read at your own risk.

A hop, skip and a fist-bump

Guilford’s NHS members.

Jocelyn was inducted into the National Honor Society at Guilford High School last night. I couldn’t be there because I had Naked Angels Tuesdays@9. Even though the high school is a hop, skip and jump from our house, I couldn’t risk being late for my 8:30 Zoom call. Thankfully, Jesse was able to attend and he captured the moment on this short video.

When I watched the video the first time from my phone, I thought my daughter was rudely taking things from the people onstage.

What on earth is happening? What has public school done to my daughter? Do my eyes deceive me?

Then I remembered I’m 52 and my eyesight ain’t what it used to be. I put on my glasses, watched the video again and quickly realized she wasn’t being grabby. She was fist-bumping her teachers, principal and NHS student officers.

Phew. Phew, phew, phew!

After my initial relief, I felt shame for doubting her and her public school.

My shame was followed by joy which was followed by curiosity. What must it feel like to fist-bump your principal and teachers?

I went to Catholic school for 12 years and all of my principals were sisters (commonly referred to as “nuns”) as were many of my teachers. The sisters were strict, but also progressive and kind.

I remember my high school principal Sister Anthony hugging a star basketball player at a school assembly. He had performed poorly in an important game and felt like crap about it. He tearfully apologized to the entire school for “losing the game.” Sister Anthony took the microphone from him and said he did no such thing. She said she “spoke for all of us” when she she said we were all thankful for everything he had done for the school.

Then she hugged him.

For a split-second, I was stunned to see such physicality, but then joined my schoolmates in giving the athlete and Sister a standing ovation. Mind you, I disliked high school, thought sports were stupid and actually had thought the kid had gotten a little cocky. But Sister’s compassion made me forget all that. She was great.

I like to think Sister (and at least a few of my former teachers) would have appreciated the joy and respect the fist-bump efficiently conveys.

Many things have changed since I went to high school but one thing remains: It’s heartening to see moments of mutual respect between authority and the student body. I only wish I could have seen Jocelyn walk and fist-bump her way across the stage in person.

Thanks for reading. Sending you a virtual fist-bump! -Connie

Fringe Festival Update

The following organizations have “signed on” to be community partners: Chicago Dramatists, Rockford Area Arts Council, Rockford Writers’ Guild.

Barbara’s PTBD (Post-Traumatic Bath Disorder)

I’m sorry, Barbara. I thought you’d enjoy it.

As I write this, Barbara is getting a professional shampoo, blow-dry and pedicure from a mobile dog grooming service. Their truck is parked outside and I can feel my dog’s panic emanating from the vehicle.

I offered to stay inside and help keep her calm, but the groomer said it’s better if I don’t.

“They like to play their owners,” she said.

The last groomer said the same thing about dogs “playing” their owners but I stayed anyway. My chihuahua was scared and wouldn’t calm down. By the time the ordeal was over, Barbara was sufficiently washed but unhappy. And I was cold, wet and covered in my dog’s flop fur, the canine version of flop sweat. I definitely felt played. And now, as I look out the window, I notice the vehicle is gently rocking from the motion of washing a dog that weighs less than ten pounds. Barbara plays all of us, I think.

***

While I pondered the idea of my dog playing me, and I honestly don’t think she does, they finished up. The groomer said my dog “did great” but I think she looks traumatized. She’s obviously in need of a little comforting (and a treat) so I’ll wrap this up. I appreciate the idea of professional grooming and I’ve heard some dogs enjoy getting pampered, but going forward, I am not sure if this is what’s best for Barbara.

Thanks for reading. -Connie

Will the forest city have a fringe festival?

Jesse surveying Walker Park (formerly Walker Elementary School) for a potential fringe festival.

There is a new initiative in town called “Forward for Fun” where every one of the Rockford’s 14 wards is being allocated several thousands of dollars in grant money for creative projects. I learned about this on Friday and was immediately excited. I talked to Jesse about it and he felt the same way. We have a certain calling for planning and executing public art-based events.

One of the first steps to acquiring a FFF grant is to float your idea past your alderman so yesterday, I pitched a Rockford Fringe Festival to Chad Tuneberg. In an email, I told the Republican it would take place at Walker Park the weekend July 8-11 with July 7 reserved for invite-only rehearsals. The outdoor event would embrace and offer diversity and variety in the form of an exciting lineup of live theatre. Gimme!

Maybe we could connect to this for electricity?

In a nutshell, I’d book several self-produced plays that would run one after the other on an outdoor stage that weekend. A weekend of seeing numerous original plays in one area could be a lot of fun. I invited the alderman to talk in person about this. There are many details to iron out including port-o-potties, electricity sources, fencing, food trucks, stage set-up, etc.. We’ll see what happens.

Last week, I applied for a different grant for a simpler project. It’s a small $500-grant and it would help me organize the 2nd Annual Winter Solstice Poetry Caroling event. Even if I am not awarded the grant, it’s not too soon to ask you to mark off Wednesday, December 21, 2022 for poetry caroling! Save the date!

Of course, I’ll continue to create and organize free, public events until I die but it would be nice to have some city funding and publicity behind them. Right now I solely rely on social media to get the word out. It just isn’t enough and has a desperate feeling to it.

But I’m not desperate; I’m compelled. There’s a difference. At least that’s what I tell myself.

It’s a short blog today, one that’s more of an update than anything. The reason is because Naked Angels Tuesdays@9 is resuming in person on March 22 (hallelujah!) and I’m part of the writer lineup so I need to focus my efforts on playwriting. I don’t want to kick off our live event with bad writing!

Until I get my play written, I’ll be posting very short blogs for the next several days. Until then, thank you for reading! -Connie

The Scent of a Stranger

Dirty, disgusting and smelly. Feel free to judge me; I deserve it.

I woke up around 1:30 in the morning with the scent of a strange man all over my body. I have no idea what this man’s name is. All I know is what he smells like. Even after showering, I can still smell him all over me.

It is my fault, my sin. I still haven’t told my husband about this but I know he’ll understand. He knows how impatient and impulsive I can be.

Last night, I was shopping with my oldest daughter. She needed new jeans and my husband wanted a new pair of warm pajamas. While Jocelyn shopped in the teen section, I ventured to the men’s section and quickly found a pair on the clearance rack for $19.99. They were Jesse’s size and I knew he’d look good in them so I bought them.

When I got home, I took my nighttime shower. I toweled off, moisturized and dried my hair. Instead of crawling into my own jammies, which are actually my husband’s sweatpants and college sweatshirt, I decided to wear the jammies I just bought him. I couldn’t resist. They looked so warm and inviting. Jesse is still in Las Vegas for work so he wouldn’t need them for another week. I told myself he’d appreciate it if I broke them in for him.

I got into bed; sleepy, comfortable and content. I said “good night” to my kids, and talked to my husband on the phone before falling asleep. That’s our custom when one of us is out of town. I didn’t tell him about the new pajamas. He went to bed thinking I was sleeping in what I always sleep in, the old orange and greys sweats.

I’ve been wearing Jesse’s sweatshirt and sweatpants to bed every winter for 17 years. Time for a change?

I startled awake at 1:30 a.m. It wasn’t a loud noise that woke me up; it was a strange smell. I immediately realized I was wearing dirty pajamas. Those nightclothes I bought on clearance had obviously been worn by a heavily-cologned man before being returned. My God, they reeked and so did I.

Still do. I can’t get this strange man’s smell off of me.

I should have known better. I worked in retail for six years. I know full well that people frequently return merchandise after they wear it. And I know you’re supposed to wash the clothes once you get home. I know about cooties, COVID and chemicals. But last night, I was selfish.

And cold, lazy and tired. I saw my husband’s pajamas and ignored all the warning signs. Let my mistake be a lesson to you all: Wash your clothes after you buy them, before you wear them!

I’ll tell Jesse about it tonight when we have our ritual “good night talk.” But now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish laundering my sheets, blankets and new jammies. Thank you for reading! -Connie

2022: The Year Of The Charcuterie

Make 2022 “The Year of the Charcuterie!”

I know. You’re sick of the charcuterie. You think they’re pretentious. Boring and repetitious. Unpleasant and unappetizing. Gross and unsanitary because, eww, fingers!

Agree to disagree?

I used to dread cooking for my family. When they were little, it was fun. But as the kids got older (they are 11, 13, 15 and 16), it became harder to serve a meal everyone liked. Besides that, I noticed that there was something stultifying about family meals.

We didn’t really “come together” at the table. The fact that Jesse and I sat at the “heads” meant that the kids were automatically stuck in a place of subservience and expectation. I can’t think of a single meaningful conversation that has ever taken place at the table. It was glorified chit chat and who needs that?

Enter the charcuterie board!

It’s 2022, but I first learned about the charcuterie last summer when I read Julia Child’s book, People Who Love to Eat Are Always the Best People. I was instantly obsessed. I bought a couple boards for less than $20 and when I got home, I immediately started experimenting with the ingredients I had on hand.

My first charcuterie. Gone in five minutes.

By their definition, charcuterie boards are supposed to display a variety of meats but I am a “work with what you got” gal, plus my 16-year-old daughter is a vegetarian. The rest of my family eats meat, but also appreciates the nutritious vegetarian charcuterie, like this Halloween-themed board.

A sugary charcuterie for Halloween.

Sugary charcuteries don’t disappear as fast as boards filled with fruits and veggies. If you have leftover candy and cookies, “take it outside” to a nearby forest preserve. A picnic table easily transforms into a charcuterie board and your hikers will appreciate lots of options (healthy or otherwise) available at the trailhead.

Picnic table set up as a charcuterie for hikers. By the end of the day, the leftover candy and cookies (and everything else) were gone.

When you need a break from sugar, throw together a fresh option like this.

Back inside, spinach and artichoke dips go a long way with the charcuterie. And don’t be afraid to add leftovers. Replenish boards with veggies and crackers and you won’t have to cook that night.

On chillier days when you need comfort and warmth, add cornbread, Brussels sprouts and quesadillas to your boards. You won’t be disappointed.

Tired of raw veggies? Comfort food like cornbread, quesadillas and Brussels sprouts will satisfy your eaters.
Happy Thanksgiving!

The charcuterie comes in handy for holidays, birthdays and breakfasts.

A birthday charcuterie for my newly-minted 15-year-old son.
A breakfast charcuterie of omelettes, toast and fruit.
Late night charcuterie for my daughter who didn’t get home until 9:30 p.m.

The charcuterie isn’t limited to humans. Try creating your own “backyard board” for the birds, opossums and squirrels that visit your yard, porch or balcony. Here’s our Nutcracker-themed spread. I made their “nutcracker” out of stale ice cream cones smeared with peanut butter and bird seed.

A Nutcracker-inspired charcuterie “for the birds.”

A charcuterie board is a clean slate. Every day, it gives you the freedom to be creative, resourceful and fun. They are inexpensive, take less than 15 minutes to prepare and clean-up is easy because most of the food is “clean.”

“Moo Tubes” and little wrapped candies add an element of fun to the boards.
Hummus and pita chips are a charcuterie staple.

Sometimes you won’t have beautiful, colorful ingredients to fill your charcuterie board. Don’t worry! Your spread will be eaten even if it doesn’t reflect every color of the rainbow.

Vanilla pudding, avocado toast, meats, cheeses, veggies, fruits, pita chips and hummus.

Whether you load your board with meats-and-cheeses, or veggies-and-fruits or a combination of whatever you have on hand, your innovative spreads will bring sustenance and joy to your eaters.

Don’t forget the vegans in your life!

The charcuterie has improved my entire culinary outlook. Though I will continue to cook some traditional meals, I am (unofficially) declaring 2022: “The Year of the Charcuterie!”

Thank you for reading. I showed you mine; now you show me yours! -Connie