How the Christmas Tree Stand Nearly Ruined Christmas

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas when all through the house
My mother was flustered and starting to grouse
“Where the hell is the stand for this dag-nabbit tree?
We had it last year so where could it be?”
The fresh tree had come from the vendor in town
But stood propped in a corner causing the family to frown
The Christmas tree stand had gone missing somewhere
And no stone was unturned in our search for it there
“We’ll have to adapt,” said my mom in a snap
And she started to dig through a closet of crap
“Ah ha!” said she as she pulled out a bin
“This wash basin will do, “ and she drug out the tin.
Now how could a washbasin solve our quandary?
Did we plan to scrub Christmas with dirty laundry?
“Quick, grab the cat litter,” she said stern and quick
“What the hell is it for?” I asked, “What is your trick?”
She lifted the tree toward the bin with one hand,
“We’ll plug the tree in the bin and surround it with sand!”
The logic was simple and couldn’t be truer
But I imagined our problems would not become fewer.
The cats were quite curious as I brought her the bag.
They questioned its travels as cross the carpet it drag.
Mom snipped open the fresh bag of cat litter clay
And poured it around the fresh pine in the tray.
She filled and she filled till up to the brim
Did the sand ‘round the tree then she said, “Now let’s trim!”
The tree seemed unsteady but stayed still in the room
And she started to decorate while I collected the straw bristled broom.
I swept round the base as the tree came to life
And the missing tree stand no longer caused strife.
The tree was quite pretty all twinkling with light
And we sat down to watch it long into the night.
But here the story took a most sour of tone
When our genius new plan would cause all to moan.
For one little kitty had seen our tree glitter
And this new place to crap was made of the litter.
There lie the poo all fresh in its place
And our beautiful tree was now a foul stenchy disgrace.
So the lesson to learn during this time of year
Is to think twice ‘bout your plans before you commit to the cheer
For you may think its genius and be hero today
But the crap underneath is just cause for dismay.
You can sing all the carols, dress all your gifts in the wrap
But there is always that something that on your genius will crap.
  © 2010, W. Thomas Adkins

The Unwieldiness of the Water Bra

No, I didn't run into trouble personally with a water bra.  While getting ready for work this morning I was watching an episode of Will & Grace.  In it Grace gets a call from a former love interest who she thinks is calling because he saw a photo of her in the paper... and said photo makes it appear that she has a full bossom.  To avoid disappointing him she, thanks to Karen's nudging, buys a "hydro-bra" and wears it to his art opening.  Of course, thanks to the rules of the sitcom universe, she springs a leak and is exposed for being "shallow".  See clip below.

This reminded me of a disastrous encounter my mother had with her own water bra many years ago.

It is important to note that my mother was never one to be mistaken for having a large chest.  When the water bras were becoming popular she decided to indulge and see how she'd look.  She bought one and wore it several times without incident until...

While working in her store (a very small, boutique-ish perfume shop) she was suddenly overrun by customers at the counter.  Apparently a charter bus of tourists from Georgia had arrived at the mall and parked immediately outside her door.  Short-handed she went into power-manager mode and briskly moved about the counter pulling this scent and that cologne down for the ravenous customers who were happily handing cash in bushels.

At some point in her haste she must have snagged her top, piercing the bra just enough to cause a steady, yet minuscule, leak.  Being busy she didn't notice the leak at first.  It wasn't until some time later that she noticed that she had a thick, wet stain down the front of her sweater.  She didn't remember spilling her coffee and she didn't have anything saucy for lunch.  Then she realized that the wetness was oily and since she hadn't coated herself in WD-40 she knew that it must have been her bra.

The crowds had dispersed some but she couldn't leave the counter.  She shifted around, trying to conceal her newly deflated top (now drenched in the water/silicone fluid) behind boxes of Calvin Kelin and DKNY.  After an hour of personal-Twister she was relieved by her assistant and was able to sneak away to change her clothes.

And the moral of the story?  Be happy with what you have... because your attempt to make it "better" is likely to end in abject humiliation!  Granted... it is pretty damn funny... but still.

Celebrating the end of Prop 8 with "The Birdcage"

Robin Williams and Nathan Lane, The Birdcage

Tonight, in celebration of the overturning of Prop 8 in California, Mike, Ren and I sat down and watched The Birdcage again... 

Back in 1996 when The Birdcage came out I was in my second semester of my junior year of college (well, year 3 of 5 anyway) and was a few months away from my first real performance in college... coincidently La Cage aux Folles.

I was still an art major and had been out for just a couple of years when, seeing the trailer, hurried to pick up my mom and take her to the movies with me.

I was a little nervous... here was this mainstream movie about two gay men, raising a son and dealing with the problems wrought when said son's fiancée invites her conservative, right wing parents to South Beach to meet the family.  The world had not had a huge number of major gay characters yet.  Yes, just a few years before there had been both The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, Too Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar... neither of which were huge financial successes (Priscilla made $11 million in the U.S. while Too Wong Foo made a little over $36 million in the U.S.)  But The Birdcage, with its all-star cast and huge marketing budget, was able to make over $126 million dollars in the States.

And there I sat, with my mom, in a dark theatre in Sevierville, Tennessee, almost 21 years old, I realized that I was in a really amazing moment.  My mom, who had thankfully always been supportive, was laughing hysterically at the movie, dancing in her seat to the music and, after leaving the theatre, quoted quips like she'd had months of rehearsal.

She loved it and I loved that we had just seen this movie without any awkwardness (regardless of my early nerves).  Somehow I had anticipated weirdness where we would have to discuss whether I would have children, marry a drag queen or deal with homophobic Republicans.  But the worry was all pretend... I should have known that it was no big deal because my mom always made me comfortable being me (and encouraged it fully... even when I wasn't ready... more on that in a future post.)

So, after 14 years, it amazes me that our country has not yet fully embraced how normal it really is like my mom had.  But thanks to a logical and pragmatic justice in California we may finally be on the road to reality.  


America... we're getting there - step by step.  I just wish that our country didn't have to pussy-foot around.  If my mom were around today she'd likely be furious with our country and ask, "Why can't we skip the trailers and get on with the feature presentation?!"

"I guess this is goodbye old pal, you've been a perfect friend"

Sondheim's lyrics can appear to unaffected as just words on a page or phrases trilling out of some person's mouth.  But these lyrics, sung by Jack of Beanstalk fame in Into the Woods, are ringing over and over in my head after the passing of little Izzy on Wednesday.

Izzy was both saved and savior.  I lost Maya a few years ago after she succumbed to her own ill health.  Pinter, our boy, mourned her passing, wandering through the apartment looking for his "big sister" and howling when he couldn't find her anymore.  He spent many night sleeping in her favorite spots, remembering her smell.  Only a week or so after Maya was gone my mom called with an idea.

"We found her under the trailer," she said, speaking of a tiny white short-haired Persian who had washed up under their trailer during a horrific storm.  "We heard this faint little cry and climbed underneath to find her trapped under the house.  I think she was sent here for you."

I was nervous.  I wasn't sure I was ready for a new cat.  Maya's passing was still very much on my mind.  I was going home for Thanksgiving anyway so I made a deal.  I would bring Pinter with me and let him decide.  If he was comfortable with this little kitten then I'd bring her home with me.

He wasn't.  Pinter was so horrified by this little creature... keep in mind he'd never met a kitten before (at least not since his own litter).  In fact, he was so anti-kitten that he ran off to hide.  She of course loved him... instant big brother!  I fell in love with the little white nugget immediately and knew I had to bring her home but at the moment I was terrified because Pinter has REALLY vanished!

After an hour of searching (in a not-so-large house), and with my panicked "Where is he? Where is he?" screaming, we finally found him.  He had somehow managed to climb into a kitchen cabinet that was wedged shut from age and warping.  Magic... had to be magic.

My mom and I knew that this little girl would be Izzy... named for the panicked screams I had blurted for the previous hour.  Izzy would join our home.  And Pinter, after 2 or 3 days, decided that she wasn't leaving and caved in.  He loved her like his own little sister.  In fact, he and Joxer were the ones who were at the door the minute I came home on Wednesday.  They got my attention and then took off down the hallway, me racing behind them understanding the unspoken urgency that they conveyed.

Little Izzy was saved from a storm and saved me and Pinter from loneliness and loss.  She didn't replace Maya... but she did become a new, important and loved member of our family.

Ren suggested, like the old wives' tale that cats can steal your soul while you sleep, that Izzy had stolen his sickness while he slept to save him.  I like that idea.  It makes her passing easier believing that she gave of herself to save the person that she loved.  I have no doubt that she will continue to look over us and protect us from afar.  She, Maya and my mom are probably playing together on the other side... until we need them down here.

A good girl to her last breath.