Last day of August

And here we sit, on the cusp of Labor Day Weekend, the official kickoff of my birthday month.

No matter what Kelly says. I at least get two weekends of fun out of it.

Growing up, my birthday always meant back to school. That pretty much sucked wind every year. As I got older, it sucked differently. I didn't go away to college, but lots of my friends left town just in time to miss my birthday. Commence suckage.

It's weird. I'm not dreading it this year. Yes, it will be my sixth wedding anniversary (should I sing "My Favorite Mistake" tonight?) and that still makes me cry, but it doesn't make me weep uncontrollably every time I think about it. That's a little thing I like to call "progress."

This year, I'm not really doing anything special. I don't have to "do" anything special, because dammit, I am special, and not in that short-bus kinda way. I'm just gonna take August 31 - September 9 as the 10-day celebration of my mother giving birth to adorable twins.

Incidentally, Mike was a lot cuter than me back then. I looked like a monkey.

Anyhoo, this is your invitation to celebrate with me, in spirit, in person, however you can. On Cinco de Margot, raise your glass (or coffee mug or cheese Danish) in my direction and wish me well. Happy My Birthday, everyone!

A new twist on a survey

This one takes some time, but it's a lot of fun.

First, choose a band or artist. Answer the questions using only the titles of their songs. Here are mine, answered as the titles to Jimmy Buffett tunes. And yes, this is exactly as they are listed in the liner notes.

Are you male or female?
Smart Woman (in a Real Short Skirt)

Describe yourself:
Growing older, but not up.

How do some people feel about you?
Overkill

How do you feel about yourself?
The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful

Describe your most recent ex:
Jamaica Mistaka

Describe your current boyfriend/girlfriend:
A Thousand Steps to Nowhere

Describe where you want to be:
One Particular Harbor

Describe how you live:
I Love the Now

Describe how you love:
Someday I Will

What would you ask for if you had only one wish?
Happily Ever After, Now and Then

Share a few words of wisdom:
Anything, Anytime, Anywhere

Now say goodbye:
It’s Five o’Clock Somewhere

What's love got to do with it?

Sometimes, when you go through hell, you come out on the other side a little bit wiser. Tired as hell, but wiser, that's for sure.

I'm not the smartest person in the world, but there are a few things that I know for sure. Maybe some of the wisdom I've gained on my journey through hell can serve as a guide so you, gentle reader, don't repeat my mistakes.

Love isn't a feeling. Or, to be more accurate, it's not JUST a feeling. Love is a verb.

It's not just what you feel. It's not enough to tell someone you love them. Actions really do speak louder than words. It's not the grand, sweeping gestures that matter, it's the little things, the day-to-day things.

Love is more about never forgetting to kiss goodnight than it is about roses on Valentine's Day. Love is about daisies because it's Tuesday. Love is dancing together in the kitchen and letting the meatloaf burn, because your connection is way more important than a pound of ground beef will ever be. Love is a midnight drive to White Castle. Love is knowing when her favorite band is coming to town, what he likes on his burger, whether she likes silver or gold. Love is a kitten even though you're allergic, trying to like her family even though they drive you bananas, treating his nephews like they are yours.

Love is the ultimate partnership. Love diminishes your sadness and magnifies your joy. Love makes you more vulnerable than anything else you will ever do, but the risks are generally worth the payoff.

And, as I began to re-read this post, I was feeling sad because I meant to write about romantic love. The love that left me in January, 2006.

But what I've written here, what I've learned about love, applies to love across the board. And, if you're reading this, know that I love you, and I hope I've done a good job of showing you that.

Because the words don't matter. The feeling doesn't matter. What you do with them is everything.

Aliens, wizards and theater ghosts

This weekend did not turn out at all as I'd planned. But, as spontaneity often provides, I enjoyed myself immensely. Sometimes it is the unexpected that brings the most joy.

Friday
It had been a helluva week. Friday night I was looking forward to going to one of my favorite restaurants with Brian for margaritas, rescheduled from the night before when no one could drive anywhere due to the Midwest Monsoon. As I was driving home, Brian called to tell me we wouldn't be going to Fuego, because they were closed. Along with pretty much every business in downtown Arlington Heights. The good news was, I had power. He could see a light on in my downstairs neighbor's window.

So, because we are wise, resourceful and flexible, we hung at the Sushi Cottage and fired up the blender at home. Frozen Chai with Bailey's...mmm.

We toasted to the weekend, caught up on life, I gave him my recommendations for things to do in New Orleans after he sweats and saves his soul, and then we took a walk. My downtown was a ghost town. I've never seen it so empty. The movie theater was closed. The Starbucks was closed. Without power, everything was closed. It was odd but fun, and I was glad we took the walk because it's not something we're likely to see again.

We walked back to my home, Brian got in his car and we said our goodbyes, because I was heading up to karaoke. But when I got inside, I had a call from Amber so I called her back. I was going up this weekend to help her do some work on the basement floor, but she'd taken in a little water during the Monsoon, so it wasn't going to work. And then it hit me:

I don't have to go. I can stay home. I like my home. I can just stay in it.

So although Amber sweetly invited me to join her and Jesus and some friends for a night of dancing, I declined. Like I said, it had been a helluva week. Staying home sounded really good. I called the bar to let Nemo know I wouldn't be coming. I hope he's not angry with me. Much as I would have loved to see my friends, driving to Wisconsin to have a few beers, sing a few songs, and gaze upon the wonder that is my favorite bartender just didn't make me happy. And a very wise man recently told me that I have to make myself happy first, because that's the most important person. And staying home would make me happy.

But so did seeing a movie. Brian and I've been wanting to see "The Invasion," and we were supposed to see it after our margaritas the night before, so I called him. We made our plans to meet in Elk Grove for the 9:50 show. Yay!

I had a little time to kill, so I went to Barnes & Noble to pick up this book I've been meaning to read. Maybe you've heard of it - Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows? It's a little missive by some British chick, seventh in a series? I was a little more than halfway through my re-read of the sixth book (I was re-reading them all in preparation for the final installment) so I knew I'd need book seven pretty soon. It sat on my kitchen table, taunting me. But off I went to the movie.

It was very good. I'm not sure how many versions of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" we need, but that darn Nicole Kidman is just too darling. I really enjoyed the movie. And the SnowCaps.

Back home, I tucked myself into my own bed on a Friday night. I love my sheets. They are very old and soft, and they smell like the ocean.

Saturday
I stayed in bed all day, drinking coffee (switched to tea at noon) and reading. Got through with book six around 10:00 p.m., and cracked the binding on the new book.

Sunday
I woke up early (for me on the weekends, anyway) and drove to my dad's house where he was making me breakfast. I was in town because I'd been invited to perform at the "Back to School Bash" at East Aurora High School. It was also the unofficial opening of the newly renovated theater at my alma mater, now named the Hawks Auditorium, after our director, Arlene Hawks. So, since I was going to be there anyway, I figured I'd seize the opportunity to spend some time with Dad. We had a nice visit and some lovely eggs and sausage, and caught each other up on what's going on in our lives.

Then, I was off to EAHS for rehearsal. I was singing a song from "Annie Get Your Gun," which I was in when I was a senior. When I walked onto the stage, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. The spirit was the same, but there were subtle nuances of difference. The stage has always been huge, but now they'd added an apron that extended it by many, many feet. Everything was new - the curtains, the lighting, the seats, the carpet, the sound system.

The sound system. Oh, my, the sound system. Singing in the auditorium before was like singing in a barn. But now ... it sounded perfect. It was a joy to hold a microphone and hear my voice over that system. I've never heard myself sound quite that good, or that bad. The system is so good, it picks up everything! But I felt confident, because with Bonni on the piano, I knew I would sound as good as possible.

When Patrick arrived, he ran through his song. And his voice over the system was flawless. He sang "If You Believe" and made me cry. Typical.

We had some time to relax between rehearsal and showtime, so I sat on a blanket under a tree and read my book. Patrick and I took a little time to give ourselves a tour of the school. It's changed a lot since we made our mark on the place, but it's still home. Walking down the hallway of the Fine Arts Department, I felt 17 again. The memories came like a flood. Tidying up the costume loft. Crying in Curt Parry's office the night "Damn Yankees" opened. All the rehearsals, the late nights, the skipped classes. I remembered them like they were yesterday. Its funny how my memories seem to only have room for happiness. I know there were some horrible things that occurred during my time in high school, but I'll be damned if I can remember any of them. No, all I can recall is the joy.

And there was joy to be had on Sunday, August 26. As I stood outside the Hawks Auditorium, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. The woman for whom the space has been named had a profound impact on my life. In many ways, she shaped the woman I am. She helped me understand my sense of humor. She encouraged me to find parts of myself in every character. She created in me truly high expectations of myself. And she loved me. She was my teacher for three years, she has been my director for 25 years, and in recent years she has become a friend. She's no longer Mrs. Hawks - she is Arlene. Her vision lives within the Hawks Auditorium, and it was an honor and a privilege to spend a day in that space with her.

After the show, it was back home to curl up with the tale of a certain boy wizard. Reading Harry's experiences through the fresh eyes of a 17-year-old Margaret was the perfect way to end a wonderful weekend.

The perfect day

It's raining right now. I mean really raining. I think I just saw two of every animal heading down Foster Ave.

Which got me thinkin' ... this would be the perfect afternoon if I were at home in my jammies, reading a book and maybe drinking some lovely herbal tea, with a fat cat curled up at my feet and the other one perched on the back of the couch, purring in my ear.

I have lots of ideas of what makes the perfect day. Sun, beach, rolling waves and Coppertone. Snow, good boots, a pretty sweater, a warm coat and a friend to walk with (or a hunky fella to warm me after.) Sunday mornings in bed with coffee (and perhaps same hunky fella) and cinnamon rolls. In the woods with a fire and sticks and marshmallows and good friends and comfy chairs. A crisp fall day picking apples followed by making apple pie.

What's your idea of a perfect day?

Random movie quote of the day

I think your heart grows back bigger ya know, once you get the shit beat out of you. And the universe lets your heart expand that way, because that's the function of all this pain and heartache you go through. You gotta go through that to come out to a better place.

-John Cusack as "Jake", Must Love Dogs

What's in my fridge

I had dinner last night with my friend Ellen. After my life started it's amazing trip down the shitter, around February 2006, Ell and I used to have dinner together every other Monday. Last night, we re-instituted Monday Night Dinners.

We went to the Cheesecake Factory at Woodfield Mall. I was too full of calimari and fish tacos (yes, Kelly, and they're really good) to enjoy a piece of cheesecake, so I got my white chocolate raspberry truffle cheesecake with extra whipped cream to go.

I can't stop thinking about it. It's in my fridge, taunting me.

You should meet Ellen. She's a wonderful friend. We had such a great time catching up, talking about the old days, and letting our delightful server, Chris, in on our inside jokes (i.e., Roger continually squashed my creativity, ergo he's an evil, evil man.)

Chris, it turns out, is returning to school to study graphic design, so naturally the three of us were like old friends by the time we finished dinner - Ellen and I are both designers, so he's promised to make us proud.

The unbeatable combination of good food, good friends, hot tea and cheesecake to go ... makes Margot a happy woman.

Don't you wish you had my job?

I'm not working this afternoon. The office is closed for an Employee Appreciation Event, and I'm an employee so I get to go. To Dave & Buster's to play games and eat terrific food and play more games and relax and have fun.

I was going to take Friday as a vacation day, but the office is closed because we're moving to a new location and the IT geeks need the office empty to "deploy the programming necessary to facilitate the move".

I really think they just like using words like "deploy", but I'm not gonna argue.

I'm gonna try and kick my friend Ryan's ass in Crazy Taxi.

And no, Kelly, he's not an actual friend, he's a work friend, because I don't make friends at work.

Diamonds sparkling on velvet

After our incredibly fun Friday night, I wasn't counting on having too much fun the rest of the weekend. Seriously, how can you top that?

Got out of bed Saturday morning (hell, it was morning somewhere) and made coffee. Mmmmm ... reason for living. Had scrambled eggs and started to feel awake, so (on Kevin's suggestion) I called Amber to see if she wanted to check out Art in the Park with me. She did! We checked out all the beautiful artwork, and refrained from spending any money (although there were a few things I would have happily taken home ... and I'm not just talking about the very cute yet inappropriately young life guards.)

I was thirsty, so I got a bottle of water and we found a place under a tree to sit. And proceeded to wile away the afternoon. Getting to know Amber is like shopping at a really cool flea market - there's always something more if you just look. I learn something new about her all the time, and she gets more beautiful to me with every conversation.

We dropped into Caribou for a little refreshment, and rescued Kelly from work before heading out to dinner at Culver's on our way to Aimee's Birthday Fest on the Farm.

There's very little in the world I enjoy more than good friends around a fire. We roasted marshmallows and told stories as the sun went down, the sky in Zenda turning brilliant shades of pink and lavendar before becoming velvet and diamonds.

As luck would have it, this weekend was ideal viewing for the Perseids, meteor shower extraordinaire. So of course we got out blankets and laid down to watch the night sky. And what do you think a bunch of theater geeks do when they lay on blankets? They sing. With harmony. For hours.

I think "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" was our greatest hit, but to be honest, everything sounded good. The night was magical as we "ooohed" and "aaahed" over the natural fireworks that tickled our eyes. Twice, we saw stars so bright their tails stayed illuminated long after the stars could no longer be seen.

Both the company and the "show" made it a night to remember. I'm so glad Aimee had a birthday so we could all share in the magic.

Addendum: Why Kevin and Jason are wrong

Here’s what I learned from Ask An Astronomer: Because we are inside the Milky Way, we can’t see it in its entirety. It’s like taking a picture of the inside of your house from the inside of your house and expecting to see all of it. We can see edges from inside of it. People (like us) in the Northern Hemisphere mostly see the outer parts of the Milky Way, as the center always stays close to the horizon.

So, you can see our galaxy, but (in my opinion) to point out one portion of the night sky and proclaim it to “be” the Milky Way would be like pointing to your sofa and saying “That’s my house.”

Life, humidity and phallic fruit

Ask anyone who has known me for any length of time and they will probably tell you a couple things about me.

1. She's moody
2. She needs her beauty sleep
3. She's moody
4. She's funny
5. She's moody
6. She drives too fast
7. She's moody
8. She doesn't think she's pretty
9. She's moody

Lately, I've been even moodier than usual. I'm blaming it on the humidity. The people who've known me for forever (we'll just call them "Kelly") pretty much just go with it, because they know it'll pass, like a gallstone of life.

So when I get this way - when I'm just not the charming Margaret you know and love - I give you permission to just look me in the eye (or write me in the inbox) and say the code word.

Banana

It's not really my code word, per se. It's borrowed from a friend. But it works. If I'm moody for no reason, banana is the best way to tell me to "snap out of it" without slapping me across the face and embarrassing us both. Just don't abuse it. Don't just throw out a banana because you want me to shut the hell up, okay? Treat me and the bananas with love, and we'll pay you back with love.

And fruit salad.

The serious art of having fun

When I was with Stuart, every Christmas he asked me what I wanted. Every Christmas, I asked him to take me to the Nutcracker. Every year, he said he would. Every year, I looked forward to it.

We never went.

When I was with Christopher, every summer we planned to do crazy summer stuff. Go on picnics. See the Tall Ships at Navy Pier. Camp in the Grand Canyon. Go to a demolition derby ... and a tractor pull ... maybe even a rodeo.

We never went.

I'm not saying this is his fault. (But I am saying not taking me to the Nutcracker was Stu's fault. The pig.) I'm saying there are things I have wanted to do for practically all my adult life, and I've just not gotten around to them.

Thankfully, there's a lot of summer left this year. And I'm gonna do my damndest to fit some of this stuff in. Even if it takes effort. Even if I have to do it alone. It's my summer, dammit. Time to get serious about having fun.

Honk if you love ducks

Last Saturday and Sunday, I had the distinct pleasure of seeing the Lake Geneva Rathundes in "Honk", the musical based on The Ugly Duckling. Yes, twice. Saturday night with Patrick and Ed, and Sunday with Marge.

It was no surprise that Patrick and Ed were late getting to Lake Geneva on Saturday. They were coming from Chicago, and there's traffic and...well, it's Patrick. We went to Tempura House for dinner beforehand, and the sushi was delightful, but the rest of the meal left a little something to be desired. I think next time we'll stick with the sushi.

We went to the show, and made it after the tacky speech in the beginning but before the curtain. Perfect timing! The show was great. We laughed, sometimes appropriately. And we were touched by Kelly's performance. She shines in this role...I was so proud.

After the show, we went to Mars for a few cocktails and great music. Joy was at the piano, of course, and we all sang a tune or two. Except Ed. He's not a singer. Kelly did "Adelaide's Lament," because she loves me. I did "I Don't Know How to Love Him," because I love it. I asked Patrick to sing "Love Changes Everything," and he said he couldn't because he was sick but he did, because he loves me. I almost cried. ALMOST.

We had a few drinks, sang a bit more, visited with friends. It was a most relaxing evening. Patrick and I sang "All I Ask of You" before he had to head home for the night, and we almost made me cry. I love singing with him, and I don't do it often enough.

I was thirsty and tired by the time we headed for home. Kevin dropped Kelly & I off so we didn't have to walk from the parking lot, because he loves us.

Bedtime. I was pooped. Evidently even moreso than I thought, because I slept until 12:42 p.m. on Sunday. I woke with a start because I thought the show started at 2:00...thank heaven I was wrong, it was a 3:00 curtain. WHEW!

Lunch, brush teeth, get packed, get dressed, say goodbye (don't forget Kim!) and get out the door. We walked out of the apartment into the steam bath that was Lake Geneva. HOLY MOLY! I don't remember humidity quite like that. I like summer...and this was a bit much.

The show was even better Sunday than it was on Saturday. Drew sat with Marge and I, and we all thoroughly enjoyed the show. It's wonderful to have a talented family.

After the show, I said my goodbyes and headed for home. I could hardly wait to get there, because it was hot and sticky and The Boys were up on the third floor wearing fur coats and I was bringing the remedy - an air conditioner! Thanks to Dale, I have now entered the realm of people who don't melt. It ain't perfect, but it more than takes the edge off. I slept in the living room last night, just so I could be close to the cool air.

So to recap:

• I love Kelly because she's The Kelly, and she continues to surprise me with her talent
• I love Kevin because he's my brother (just ask Gene) and he makes me laugh
• I love Kim because she shares cheese, metaphoric and otherwise
• I love Marge because she's a great mother-out-law and makes community theater fun
• I love "my" kids because they make me feel like the greatest aunt ever
• I love Patrick because he fills my heart with all the good stuff
• I love Ed because he loves me back
• I love Dale because my apartment is cool

big bang theory, my ass

I don't mean to get all philosophical on ya. I'm a very live-and-let-live sort of person when it comes to belief, and I've been known to be a buffet believer myself. I'll take a little of this religion and a little of that religion and just be comfortable in the faith that there is something greater than I.

I felt it really strongly on the Sunrise Summit of Mt. Rainier on September 5, 2002. You cannot witness the beauty of being halfway up a mountain and not know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this is not just a happy accident. The majesty of our world has to have been more.

And then, I get phone calls like the one I just got. My sister Pat called. "You're not a match for Jenn" she said. My sister Jennifer has leukemia, and has been searching for a bone marrow match for the inevitable transplant. I was sure I would be a match.

I'm not a match. But my brother is. My twin brother. My womb-mate. Michael is a match. Michael who has never taken a step in his life. Michael who has spent 40+ years with cerebral palsy. Michael who has done nothing but bring joy to the lives of everyone he touches.

Michael is a match. Because Michael lives, so too will my sister. My brother, whose limbs are twisted and whose speech is sketchy and whose muscles don't communicate with his brain, will make it possible for my sister to continue to walk, to run, to live.

I've always thought Michael's purpose was to make people laugh, to remind them that life is not something to be taken so seriously. It turns out that he has another purpose, as well. Michael is here to bring new life into the fear we know as cancer.

There is indeed a plan.

dog days

It's August. We're in the throws of the "dog days of summer," the hottest, most sultry days of the year. When you put it that way, it doesn't really seem so bad.

When Christopher and I were together, we agreed to only complain at one extreme or the other, and we complained all winter long. There just doesn't seem to be much point to winter, ya know? Although, to be fair, I enjoyed last winter more than I have in a long time...guess I don't hate it as much as he does.

But back to summer. I live in a third-floor walk-up with no air conditioning, and I think my body is getting used to it. Probably a good thing, seeing as how the temperature's not supposed to dip below 90 during the day for quite a while.

It's not hot, it's tropical. It's not humid, it's sultry. We move slower. We wear less. We feel a little more alive. We eat popsicles and salads and get excited when the ding-ding man goes by. We take refuge in the movie theater or the mall. We drive with the top down.

The dog days are here. They won't last forever. If it's your thing, revel in it. Breathe in...breathe out...let it engulf you. If it's not your thing, wait a few months. And comfort me when I'm cold. I'll need it.