Tears

I think what it boils down to is that I am incapable of coping with the enormity of life.

So I either live in denial of the incomprehensible fragility and finality of it all, forcing myself to live in oblivion and be numb.

Or I find myself in a period of time, like the past few weeks, when I am so overcome by moments of beauty, sadness, terror, joy, and love that I feel completely raw and I cry. I cry every day, multiple times a day, over big things and small things. For short spurts of just a few tears or for prolonged periods of gentle weeping or blubbering sobs.

I'm trying to look back and pinpoint what set off this latest period of ceaseless tears. I think it might have been reading The Book Thief. I think I started crying then and haven't stopped since.

Sometimes I cry because I'm moved by beauty and sweetness, like when Keri Russell sings the pie song to her baby in Waitress. But then those tears morph into those of grief and anger at the senselessness of it all when thinking about how the woman who wrote that song, whose actual daughter played the little girl in the movie, got murdered. And those tears all mix together while I feel how beautiful and ugly the world can be at the same time.

Really, these days I'll cry over anything. I cried over Planet Earth and the Battle of the Bulge. I cried yesterday in our director's office while talking about how much I love my boss. She then teared up, because she loves her, too. Tears are so contagious. They're like yawns that way, or laughs.

Yesterday I also cried when my mom sent an e-mail to her four children after attending the funeral of a guy my older brother's age who had a stroke right after his honeymoon. "I know that there is a message to reflect upon in all that happens to us in this life," she wrote. "Today for me--and I pass it on to you who are dearest to me--is that life is precious. Every day, every minute is too precious to waste on anything that does not have meaning or is not life-giving. Let none of us put mindless TV, trash movies, resentment, worry, envy, regret, money--above being with those you love and those who love you. Dearest ones of my life, I prayed today that you will reflect on the suddenness of his death, that such reflection will call you in a new way to live your life to the fullest--loving others, serving others, spreading God's love and kindness within you to all whom you meet, seeing the preciousness in yourself, each other, your special friends, living, not in a morbid way, but with an adventurous, energetic spirit--each day as if it were your last.....because it just might be. Some of his last words to his wife: 'Don't worry, honey. God will take care of us.' May you grow in trust of this, too. May that beautiful young man rest in peace ... and may you, my precious children, live in peace and joy in all that you do."

The tears over that e-mail will be unending, probably, partly because I have a mom who would send an e-mail that loving and profound and because I feel what she was feeling -- being seized with that dread, that panic that we're not appreciating every moment and that it can all end so suddenly. I feel that on a regular basis, and it's an awful feeling, and I cried because I knew she was feeling it, too. I feel like I've always felt that way, that sense of urgency about the preciousness of life, but it used to be a much more positive thing. It used to feel like a blessing, a gift, even a joy. But lately it's felt like a burden, like a goddamn albatross, and I wonder if that's just part of getting older. Or part of losing belief in God and in heaven and that we'll never be apart from those we love even in death. I wish I could still believe that. I think I was much less afraid.

Today's crying jag started when cleaning out a closet. I'm doing some rearranging and organizing and I opened one of my grandmother's old journals. She had one for every year for about 12 years or so, late in her life. Maybe she had more, I don't know. But there's a week on each page and entries for each day of they week. Her handwriting is horrendous; she was raised when you were taught to write right-handed even if you weren't, and she wasn't, and it shows. I think maybe the scratchy scrawl adds to the melancholy of her prose. But her entries are so spare and so simple and they cause my heart to clench in despair. I know she wanted me to have them; she told my mom, and my mom told me, years ago. My grandmother loved each of us the most on varying days; I guess that day it was me. So I am glad to have them but also feel the weight of her loneliness and sadness with every word I read and I can never read long before I have to close them and cry a hundred tears. And I wonder if I should scan parts of them and share them with other relatives, like her children, when she wrote something kind or wonderful about them, but I worry that it will become a whole possessive mess because I have them and that reading them in full will make them dissolve in pain. They are so hard for me to handle, and I am her granddaughter. I don't know if it would be a gift or a cruelty to share the journals with them. Today I happened to be on the phone with my friend who knew and really liked my grandmother when the boo-hooing wave commenced, and she said something like, "Well, if you believe that we all carry pieces of each other inside ourselves," since her daughter has my grandmother's name as her middle name, "then she carries part of her inside." And that just made me start bawling, because, well. That's really it, isn't it?

Meanwhile, I decided the music I had to listen to while doing all of this closet cleaning and journal reading and crying was the Broadway soundtrack to The Lion King, and I don't care what anyone says about the Disneyfication of Broadway, this soundtrack is a thing of beauty. And it opens, "From the day we arrive on this planet, and, blinking, step into the sun, there is more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done." And I thought, yes. "There is far too much to take in here, more to find than can ever be found." And I thought, yes. There is far too much to take in here. And maybe that is why I am crying every day. And then, "It's the circle of life, and it moves us all, through despair and hope, through faith and love. Till we find our place, on the path unwinding ..." And yes, it's from a Disney show and I think it might have been written by Elton John and I realize it comes from a cartoon, but this song kills me. The Broadway recording, it is stunning. I feel like all my heart has been doing lately is blinking into the sun and trying to take it all in. And THEN the song "He Lives in You" came on, and I thought about what my friend said about my grandmother living on in her little baby, my godchild. And that also is truly a beautiful song, I am telling you.

I might need to rethink tonight's plan to watch Downfall and watch something else instead. Something with singing and dancing. Like Grease 2 or Waiting for Guffman.

And hi, I'm crying some more, typing this right now, big shocker. And I am grappling with accepting that surely it must be better to feel everything than feel nothing.

It's not like I am going through each day sad or depressed. It's not that way at all. It's just that as I told my boyfriend tonight, I feel like lately I just have an overflowing heart. And it's overflowing and exploding so much that it's always close to the surface and the tears are so accessible and I can't help it, and before I know it, they just come, and my heart is running down my cheeks, trying to understand life and death and the world, trying to get free.

EEW dot com

Alert! Ellen Emerson White's offical site is now up and running, and it looks great.

It features the cover art of the new book for those who've been wondering about that.

And for those who missed it, there was some activity in the comments featuring EEW herself as well as some information about Long May She Reign.

Ice cream cake is important.

First things first: big shout out to reader Jana who has finally solved the mystery of those damn five notes from the Planet Earth theme that have been driving me insane as to where I've heard them before. They are from the theme to Somewhere in Time! If you listen to this, you can hear the five notes from about 3 seconds in to 5 seconds in. Thank you, Jana. You have no idea how this has been torturing me.

On Friday night, we went out for honey wasabi shrimp, pad thai, and the best spring rolls in town. For dessert, we had ice cream cake. This was a very easy and tremendously yummy dessert if you like ice cream sandwiches, oreos, and cool whip, which I do.

The next morning, we went out for breakfast. Later that afternoon, we got take-out from the same place and watched Venus, which was alternately good and kind of disturbing. I liked it, though, mostly. It kind of made me think about my grandfather. He really kind of had a rebirth in his later years when he moved into the retirement home. The men were vastly outnumbered by the women, and a number of the ladies adopted him and crocheted for him and showered him with cards and attention. But mostly he liked the young women. The young women who worked there, the young women at his favorite coffee shop, the young women at the Y, the young women my brother dated. He LOVED them. He took pictures of himself with them and scotch taped them around his apartment. And I really don't think it was a perverted sort of lust he felt for them. I think it was mostly that they were young and alive, and they made him feel young and alive, too.

We took the dogs on a walk around the neighborhood after finishing the movie, which they definitely enjoyed if their near hysteria was any indication. For dinner, we went out for Japanese food. He had a sushi roll with coconut shrimp, avocado, mango, and pineapple sauce, and I had grilled shrimp and vegetables over fried rice and some miso soup. We also split some gyoza. That might be my favorite meal, honestly. Rice, veggies, shrimp, some soup, some dumplings. Perfect. More ice cream cake was had for dessert, enjoyed over about five episodes of season two of The Office. I realized I never saw most of season two, and I laughed until I almost cried, especially during the Olympics.

On Sunday morning, we went to the baptism of my friend's baby. (Thanks again to all who e-mailed or commented with advice!) It went very well. I did my godmotherly duties, amounting only to draping a little white garment over her after her head was doused with the water. She was uncharacteristically quiet and serene, and her dad said, "It must have been all that original sin that was giving her a stomachache." We went out for a very nice lunch after, and a good time was had by all. B. had poached eggs over crab cakes and english muffins with remolaude sauce, and I had seafood crepes. We both had shrimp and corn soup with andouille sausage. I had a cappuccino, he had a Newcastle. I don't know why I like to record what was eaten, but I do. It helps me preserve the memory of the experience somehow. As for being her godmother, I can't pretend that I will be able to advise her about faith or things of that nature, but I definitely promise always to be here for her because holy shit, she is cute, and I love her.

Speaking of memories, a veritable flood of them hit me while in mass for the baptism. I don't know if it was being around other people who went to school there or what, but I felt so nostalgic about the school and I felt SUPER nostalgic in the church. My parents were there, which was nice, and my dad took his volunteer photographer duties very seriously, darting around furtively during the actual baptism taking shots from various angles through breaks in the crowd and barking officially such commands as "Stand by!" My mom looked like some kind of radiant goddess in her blue and white checked shirt. Anyway, it was the first time that B. came to church there, and I found myself wishing for the songs to be really good. Sadly, they used versions of the Amen, Holy Holy Holy, Christ Has Died, Lamb of God, etc. that I didn't know or particularly like, and the opening hymn, closing hymn, and responsorial psalm were not all that. Thankfully, the choir came through with "Here I Am, Lord" during communion, one of my all-time favorites. I don't know how I know every word of every verse of that song, but I do. I guess it goes back to how permanently things are cemented into your brain when you do them over and over as a kid. I had a flashback to being in the choir loft way back in the day and singing at the top of our lungs a very rousing song called "Go Ye into All the World and Preach My Gospel to Every Creature!" There was lots of exclamatory singing in that song. My family is in full agreement that the best mass parts are by Bob Dufford. Two examples are the "Amen" and the "Holy, Holy, Holy," which you can hear (sung rather hideously, I'm afraid) here if you click on "Listen." I think these are from the St. Louis Jesuits Mass, whatever that means.

I guess my point is that even though I don't believe in God like I once did, I still like going to church sometimes and hearing the music I grew up on and being surrounded with so many memories of special times, like our fifth grade Christmas pageant where I played an angel with wings made out of coat hangers and aluminum foil, singing in the choir loft as a kid, all of the Christmas masses where my siblings and I stifled laughter over some crazy off-key choral nonsense going on, and all of the school masses and Sundays spent finger spelling whole conversations in the pews with my friend or my sister and how my friend and I used to pick out Eucharistic ministers who looked like movie stars, such as Tom Hulce, Diane Wiest, and the grown-up Yahoo Serious. I wished I could somehow take a picture of my heart while we were sitting there and show it to B. and say, "Here. Here is so much of my childhood and so much of who I am."

Looking forward to: a rock concert and, at long last, seeing Once.

Baby feedin'

I'm posting this on behalf of my lifelong friend, a clinical psychologist and lover of The Office, celebrity gossip, crispy M&Ms, and Corky St. Clair, who is at her wits' end dealing with issues related to feeding her three-month-old baby, my godchild. It would be great if any parents out there who have some helpful tips would post such in the comments. Note: This is largely about breastfeeding, so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it.

:::

We are really having an awful time. My second daughter is now 12 weeks old and is exclusively breastfed. I am considering dropping some feedings and doing formula supplements just due to the stress level. I would prefer not to do this, but the quality of our family life has significantly declined as of late.

I have a 3.5-year-old daughter who is having a rough time adjusting to her new baby sister. The baby has severe reflux and is on Prevacid. I suspect she may be a high-needs baby, too. She is almost never content when awake and is just a very intense baby -- we cannot leave the house. She screams her head off in the car seat. She does okay if I wear her in the baby bjorn or pouch and is actually sleeping in the pouch right now as I type this. She also does okay if we do The Happiest Baby on the Block swaddle, side, swing, and shush with her. In fact, I have found that it's easiest just to breastfeed with her swaddled because otherwise she will just bob on/off the breast and only eat for about 5 minutes at a feeding. Even swaddled, though, it feels like some kind of gymnastics event because she will nurse in cradle position for about 3-4 minutes and then I end up shifting her to an upright football hold for another 3-4 minutes.

Needless to say, nursing her is downright HARD, and I thought by 12 weeks we would fall into some kind of decent rhythm. This is further complicated by my return to work 3 days/week as of yesterday. I will be pumping at work, so I'm not worried about that, but my oldest daughter has a weekly t-ball game and swim lesson on Monday and Friday that would prevent me from going straight home to nurse the baby. I think it is important that I be available for my oldest baby, too.

I am just at a loss because I constantly feel stressed and on edge. My baby doesn't really eat on any kind of a schedule--she's a grazer and does better with short, frequent feeds. I feel like I am constantly rushing and living life from feed to feed, which would be fine if I didn't have another daughter to take care of and work part-time.

I would just like to know how other moms do this? I really, really wanted to exclusively breastfeed until 6 months, and I certainly don't think formula will improve her reflux. I just think something has to give. Has anyone been through this, and if so, what worked?

:::

Thanks to anyone who might have suggestions. I love my friend and her daughters, and this is my way to try and help her out since clearly I know nothing about breastfeeding or things of that nature. Frankly, I'm amazed at how well she's handling this, as I can barely handle my pets.

Weepy weekend, whoa

This was a wildly weepy weekend. On Friday night, I drove to see my boyfriend. We went out for sushi and watched part of Planet Earth. Which for some reason sent me into a tailspin of weeping that I'll have to try to explain later.

The next morning, we headed to a museum that I could not have loved more. I kicked myself for not bringing my camera. We ate lunch, sharing crab claws marinated in amber beer and rosemary butter and a Thai chicken salad. I had a strawberry lager, which was scrumptious.

Later, we shared a pizza at Angeli and went to see Waitress. I started sniffling when Keri sang the pie song and cried and cried by the end. I must have had something hormonal going on, because that made two nights in a row. Certainly this called for gelato. He got white chocolate almond, and I had strawberry and vanilla.

The next morning, we crossed the lake to take care of some house business. We had our first coffee since Katrina at his favorite coffee shop, which just reopened a few weeks ago.

I became and remain obsessed with a five-note section of the Planet Earth theme. You can hear it here ... it's the first 5 notes of this interlude, lasting until about 8 seconds in. I played it on the piano as G E F G C. I know those five notes in sequence for some reason. Part of a movie theme? Another song from another life? It's been driving me totally insane. (That link goes to Windows Media Player, so apologies if you don't have it.)

Last night, my mom cooked crawfish etouffee, shrimp and corn soup, butternut squash with pecans and breadcrumbs, and ice cream dessert for Father's Day.

I found the actual recipe in an old church cookbook from 1980. I'll post it here at the request of sixmilechick, who asked for it months ago. Eat and love.

So as for my breakdown on Friday night. Which was some sort of strange existential crisis, brought on, I think by watching too many World War II documentaries, most recently American Experience: Battle of the Bulge. I told Jessie that I keep watching them because I'm trying to understand why and how that war happened. And she said, "I actually know exactly what you mean about having to watch 800 movies ... because something is too large to make sense of without a lot of different stories." And that is exactly it. And I told Jessie some of this in an e-mail and now I will say it here.

So the Battle of the Bulge really brought on the weeping. And after watching a tiny bit of Planet Earth, I started and could not stop. And he said, "What is wrong?" And I said, "I have a heavy heart." And he said, "Because of the Battle of the Bulge?" And I said, "Yes." And then I hiccupped a lot and said, "And the animals. All the beautiful animals. They're just trying to survive. And we're fucking the world up. And we didn't learn anything from WWII." And I thought about soldiers with their feet frozen off and the little dead Belgian children frozen in the snow that the documentary showed. "And if we didn't learn from that war? What war will we learn from? We are at war RIGHT NOW." And we're killing the planet, and what is the point, and nobody lives for very long in the end, etc. etc. And I wept and wept. And nicely, he let me and patted me.

Anyway. All I'm saying is that World War II documentaries and Planet Earth are kind of a serious one-two punch in the soul, at least for me. I've hardly seen any of Planet Earth so far, but it's killing me. Especially the snow leopards and bottlenose dolphins and elephants who swim like they're as light as feathers or air.

Oprah is pissing me off.

Lately I've decided that I kind of dislike Oprah.

It started when she, Gayle, and some other women went on some kind of Life Challenge weekend in the desert or some place. And part of it was about conquering fears and phobias. And Gayle was afraid of heights. So she had to climb up a pole and jump from it while swinging around through the air from some kind of rope. And she was scared out of her mind; that was clear. And Oprah laughed and laughed at her, both there and in the studio while watching the tape in front of the audience. She laughed harder than I've ever seen her laugh. She laughed at Gayle while Gayle was frozen in fear, laughed until tears came out of her eyes. And I thought, "You know, that is really very shitty of Oprah to laugh while her best friend faces a fear that is obviously very real to her." I would not appreciate it very much if, while I was doing something that scared me to death, such as being around cockroaches (not that I would ever try to conquer that fear at a Life Challenge, oh hell no), someone I love stood by and laughed at me. I've no doubt that Gayle and Oprah's love for each other is real and true, and I'm sure Gayle could look back on it later as a positive thing and even laugh at herself, but at the time, it wasn't funny to her at all. But hoo boy, it sure was to Oprah. Nice, Oprah. Really nice.

So it was with that sort of displeasure with Oprah that I saw part of last night's episode, which described a straight man who lived with a gay man for thirty days in San Francisco. (You can read more about this "experiement" here.) This was an All-American whitebread sort of man who was very anti-gay. And he said that he agrees with Bush that marriage between gay people is wrong. And he said that murdering someone and being gay are both sins, and sin is all the same in the eyes of God. And in the end, he realized that if his children end up gay, he will still love them and want them to have the same rights as straight people. Well, great. How nice of him to have this epiphany. But Oprah just found it all a bit too funny, this guy's experience with the gay community in San Francisco. And HERE he goes to his FIRST GAY BAR! Oh, the HILARITY. It was treated like he was just some dumb jolly doofus from the midwest, and isn't it sooooo funny to watch him be uncomfortable around GAYS. Like bigotry is so hysterically funny. I can't really describe it, but the tone of the whole thing really put me off and soured me so harshly against Oprah that I had trouble falling asleep after watching it. It just burned me up. I could not imagine her in a million years treating bigotry against African Americans or women or some other socially disenfranchised group so lightly and playing it all up for humor. It made me feel actually sick. It does not even matter to me that Oprah clutched hands with the guy in a big double-handed high five at the end for coming to his senses (allegedly) that hey! Gay people are people, too! Because I think that for as long as people regard anti-gay fuckheads as these harmless ignorant people who don't really hurt anyone with their backward, hateful ideas about how gays are sinners and shouldn't be able to get married and oh yeah, that he was worried his new gay roommate would rape him the first night he stayed there -- hello?! -- then we will never really make real progress against organizing against their discrimination and prejudiced laws and stopping them from being elected. It's not funny. It's not cute. It's not harmless. And Oprah should be ashamed of herself.

Meanwhile, I've added several links in the Tony Awards entry to videos of my favorite Tony moments, if you're into that sort of thing.

Just a Tuesday

This weekend was B.'s birthday, so we did some celebratin'. On Friday night, I made this recipe, and it was so bland and tasteless that I felt like I was eating chunky, meaty water. I dumped tons of garlic powder, some cayenne pepper, some salt, a couple of bay leaves, and some black pepper in it after the first round, and it was better as leftovers. So that was disappointing, though the store-bought garlic bread was tasty. I made these brownies as a special birthday treat, but they weren't as good as I'd hoped they would be for a prize-winning recipe. I thought that the butter/brown sugar mixture made the bottom (the peanut butter cookie dough) too soggy, and the potato chips tasted stale. They weren't disgusting by any means, but they did not knock my socks off. We watched Notes on a Scandal, and while I appreciate the talent of Blanchett and Dench, mostly this movie just grossed me out and annoyed me.

On Saturday morning, we went out for a breakfast of egg sandwiches on homemade biscuits with bacon and cheese and a side of grits over the newspaper. He had his new coffee and deemed it a hit. Then we went to the planetarium because it was too hot to even think about being outside and watched a movie that was alternately very cool and very motion sickness-inducing. We had po-boys for lunch (me: shrimp, him: roast beef), and I dropped him off for his birthday massage. Later that afternoon, we played Scrabble and had a fancy dinner of red snapper topped with lump crabmeat (me) and pork loin with orange slices and blackberries (him) along with a couple of Sazeracs and went to see Knocked Up, my favorite part of which was the Cirque du Soleil Mystere scene because I had not a dissimilar experience while watching that show.

The next morning, there were more biscuits and eggs and cheese for breakfast, and we bid each other adieu. I mowed the grass, went over to Maryelizabeth's to visit for a while, met my dad at yoga (where I felt the entire time like my wrists might snap in half, ow, sun salutations can suck it), and spent the evening doing a whole lot of nothing.

Now I'm sitting here obsessing about painting my hall or foyer something like this color or this color, watching the two delightful Rosie and Ross videos, finishing Austenland (very cute book), scouring the Internet for the Spring Awakening Tony performance because I somehow deleted it from my TiVo, contemplating going on the South Beach Diet, renting World War II documentaries from Netflix, watching Diggers, and trying to find a new book to read. Suggestions welcome.

Tony Night! (Spoilers included)

Tony Night is a happy night. Happy, happy, HAPPY!

When the announcer introduced the first presenter as a four-time Tony winner and a nominee tonight, I assumed it would be Audra McDonald. But it was Angela Lansbury. Which is kind of unreal, considering that Angela Lansbury is 81 and Audra McDonald is 36. Not to take anything away from Angela Lansbury, whom I've adored since Bedknobs and Broomsticks.

As I just e-mailed Kymm while demanding that she blog the awards again, Neil Patrick Harris was adorable and Christina Applegate had both a pinched dress and a pinched face.

And God bless John Gallagher, Jr. How goddamn wonderful. I thought Jonathan Groff's smile would fly right off his face as he watched his friend give his delightful, delightful, delightful speech. (Watch it here.)

I hope these aren't considered spoilers.

I am so happy the Tonys are on. It amuses me that Tom Hulce, also known as Amadeus and the voice of Disney's Hunchback (beautiful singing voice by the way) and the black sheep sibling with a son named Cool in Parenthood, is one of Spring Awakening's big producers. I think that is awesome.

Carla Gugino's hair looks like it did in Son-in-Law, a movie I love, but it's not a great look for her. She is so stunning as a brunette. Also, I'm not fond of her florescent green dress.

Nominees who sit stone-faced instead of clapping for themselves or at least cracking a smile annoy me.

STEVEN SATER, WOO! "Spring Awakening is all about the hopes we feel as parents and the wounds we feel as children." And there is Jonathan Groff, again, looking overcome upon a Spring Awakening victory. What a tremendous speech. (Watch it here.)

I didn't know that Melina Kanakaredes was in Cabaret. I think they ended up letting everyone who wanted to play Sally Bowles. Also, I hate her dress. And her make-up. And she is not reading the teleprompter well at all! Mortifying. Could they not have found someone better to introduce John Kander? Holy Hell! I guess it's because she's on a CBS show. Shameful. What about Bebe Neuwirth? Chita Rivera? Joel Grey? These are just the first few that come to mind. Melina F-ing Kanakaredes? Excuse me?

Now I am apparently copying off of Kymm and typing throughout the entire broadcast.

Curtains looks good. David Hyde Pierce is great. Maybe there should be a musical starring David Hyde Pierce and Neil Patrick Harris. They could play Niles and Barney and sing and dance together. I would enjoy that.

Taye and Idina together! Walking out to a song from Annie Get Your Gun. Bizarre. Idina Menzel is beautiful, but I'm not crazy about the monochromatic dress and make-up. She sort of looked like this, at least hair and make-up-wise, when she won for Wicked, and it was a nice contrast to the green skin we'd seen her in a few minutes earlier when she performed, but Idina! Color. You should look into it, really. And Spring Awakening wins Best Score. And they look very happy, and it's adorable. And Sater and Shiek each just hugged and kissed Michael Cerveris on the way up! Interesting. And cue the Jonathan Groff reaction shot. Maybe the Tony producers are trying to reach out to the young audience by showing Groff all the time. Not a bad tactic, I'd say. "This is for you, The Guilty Ones." LOVELY. Also, I'd like Duncan Shiek to shave his neck. He just said, "Musical theater rocks," like, "Hello, I am a rocker, and this just occurred to me." Cute.

There's Anika Noni Rose with Donny Osmond. It really bothered me that in the midst of the Beyonce / Jennifer Hudson extravaganza nobody ever noted that Anika Noni Rose was the 3rd Dreamgirl in the movie and that she was a damn Tony winner. And I love Donny Osmond's voice a lot, but his Botox / facelift is frightening me.

Rosie O'Donnell will be so happy that Mary Louise Wilson won. I would really, really, really, really, really like to see Grey Gardens. I like her pants suit. She is lovely. Christine Ebersole looks gorgeous and like a sunbeam is shining down from heaven on her face.

I love you, Phylicia Rashad, but that is an unfortunate tie-dyed tent that you are wearing. I forgive you because you gave one of the best acceptance speeches I've ever heard. "Often I've wondered what does it take for this to happen. And now I know. It takes effort and grace, tremendous self-effort and amazing grace. And in my life that grace has taken numerous forms. The first was the family into which I was born, parents who loved and wanted me, and a mother who fought fearlessly, courageously, consistently so that her children above all else could realize their full potential as human beings. Teachers who wanted to be teachers. Art. All my life. A brilliant play, a magnificent role, a producer with a vision, a producer with a heart, and a director who dares to see me as an artist capable of many things. I thank God for everything, every, every single thing. For my mother, for my sister, for my brothers, for my children, and for this." (Yes, I just transcribed that from the 2004 Tony Awards show which I am physically incapable of deleting from my TiVo.)

Okay. Choreography. Bill T. Jones for Spring Awakening. And he is dancing down the aisle and jumping onto the stage. Well, wow! He is psyched! And, unsurprisingly, so is Jonathan Groff. This is funny because Shelley did not approve of the choreography of this show, not one little bit. It made her put her face in her hands. Oh, well! This guy is totally jazzed, and I'm loving this Spring Awakening sweep so far. (Watch his acceptance here.)

Rainn Wilson looks nothing like Dwight Schrute! Weird. Claire Danes' long blond hair is loathsome, as is her over-articulation. I cannot believe how much I loved her as Angela Chase and how much she totally gives me the creeps now.

Jennifer Ehle is so gorgeous, oh my God. And there is Martha Plimpton! Damn. Another Parenthood person. I love Parenthood. And Jennifer Ehle wins. Which is funny because she is the quintessential Elizabeth Bennet, of course, and I'm in the middle of reading Austenland. She's sounding very American. Why did I think she was English? What the hell? She sounds vaguely English, but not really. I'm very confused. I also loved her in that dark and dismal movie Paradise Road. But I really think she sounds American and someone needs to clear this up for me.

There is adorable Justin from Ugly Betty! He is precious. And weirdly, I am now feeling affection for Mary Poppins, the Broadway version, even though I've always hated the thought of you. And I don't like the way they sing "Chim chimUHny, chim chimUHny, chimchim cheree." It is spelled "chiminy." Not "chimuhny."But other than that, I am slightly more interested in it. I like this Bert. They certainly did give Mary Poppins a lot of time, good Lord.

Harry Smith? Okaaaay. Whatever. He's presenting "The Year in Plays." Poor plays. They really get the shaft.

Liev and Cynthia Nixon make quite a dashing pair of presenters.

Eddie Izzard! I hope his wife Elizabeth is watching. He is being very silly, and it's very strange to see him as someone other than Wayne Malloy because that's the only way I've ever seen him until now.

Marg Helgenberger looks better every time I see her. She is aging backwards. And now a musicals montage. I did not know that The Cat in the Hat and High Fidelity were made into musicals. And I think that Legally Blonde looks pretty bad. Mostly just because the new nose of the lead actress jars me every time I see a photo of her. Harry Connick, Jr.: also aging incredibly well. And there's the director of Rent, Michael Grief, against Michael Mayer, the director of Spring Awakening. And Mayer takes it. He is very pumped and is wearing a lavender tie. "I think it's awesome that the Broadway community has embraced our musical of young people struggling with the confusing and exhilarating journey to adulthood. And I believe that it is only with open eyes and open ears and open minds and open hearts that we can guide future generations until one day societal repression and sex as taboo are no longer themes for which directors win Tony Awards. Thank you very much." (Watch his acceptance speech here.)

Patti Lupone is wearing an unfortunate dress. And the microphone is blocking her mouth. She still looks great, though. And here's Raul Esparza! Whom I have never seen perform! This is very exciting, as I love him in Tick, tick... BOOM! Unsurprisingly, he is giving an A*W*E*S*O*M*E with capital letters and stars performance tonight. If he's like this throughout all of Company, how could anyone else win tonight? (Watch his beautiful performance here.)

What in the name of Antoinette Perry is Marcia Gay Harden wearing? Gee, I wonder if The Coast of Utopia will win Best Play? It only looks like the best play ever. Judd Hirsch is wearing opaque black sunglasses. Perhaps he just had eye surgery. There's no other excuse. They're explaining the plays, which are getting a few clips each. Judd Hirsch just pronounced Pittsburg as Fittsburgh, which makes me think of Titspervert/Fitzherbert in Bridget Jones' Diary.

Sam Waterston's gray hair is very distinguished. I hate men and their ascension into aging gorgeousness. Best Revival of a Play: Journey's End. Fellow presenter Felicity Huffman apparently could not care less. The man accepting the award: "Is there not a better way for human beings to resolve conflict than war? Is there not a better way?" Amen.

Tommy Tune! Still tall. Wearing what looks like a big white magnolia on his lapel. I enjoy him. He's singing! "Look around, they disappear from sight, and when I recall what used to be, I'm weeping like a weeping willow tree, just look around, you'll see a memory." Very nice song over the shots of the people who died -- lovely, really.

I'm getting sort of tired of this and just want to see the live performances from Spring Awakening and Grey Gardens. Here are Kevin Spacey and Jane Krakowski, whom I saw in Grand Hotel when I was a junior in high school, the first show I ever saw on Broadway. Is Jane Krakowski still dating Tim Rice? I think I remember her saying that when co-hosting Live with Regis one day. I found that a very weird pairing, frankly.

Okay, I stopped paying attention for a few minutes. But here is Audra McDonald presenting and looking incredibly beautiful. Leading actress in a play. I am very torn between Angela Lansbury and Vanessa Redgrave, two legends. And some very random woman wins who is very thrilled and shocked. Wait, I remember her from that show with the blonde Southern comic. What was that show? Oh yeah. Grace Under Fire. It was on in reruns, along with Coach, all summer when I worked at Disney World. Anyway. I remember her from that. She is being a little too silly and over-the-top in this speech and I feel it's kind of disrespectful especially when she beat Lansbury and Redgrave. It's just kind of ridiculous. I feel like I would like her in real life, but she just called her Tony statue a "tchotchki." No.

GREY GARDENS! Is coming up. And here are the guys from Jersey Boys. And they are singing again this year! Well, that is awesome. I don't recall ever seeing performances from the same show two years in a row. It's fine by me. I like these guys a lot. Shelley said this show went on forever, though. My sister just called and asked me, "Who are these clowns?" Ha! She also said she has a mouse in her room and she just saw it scurry across the floor. Ah, New York City.

Fast-forwarding. I'm very sad that I did not get to see Captain von Trapp make an acceptance speech because of Frank Langella. Patrick Wilson! I used to see him as Curly in Oklahoma ... now I see him as the adulterous husband who gets naked in Little Children.

And look at the magnificent Christine Ebersole. She looks and sounds exactly like Little Edie. This is uncanny, truly. I cannot imagine her not winning. (Watch her performance here.) And look! Here is the gorgeous trio of Moritz, Wendla, and Melchior announcing that they'll be performing soon. Hooray.

Oh, there's Christopher Plummer presenting. Good, good. He is still very dreamy, I think. And the Best Play is The Coast of Utopia. And there is Tom Stoppard in all of his bushy-haired glory.

It doesn't surprise me that Zach Braff is presenting Spring Awakening as he's been very public about his love for the show. And here it is, holy wow. There's Lea Michele, looking as ever like mini-Idina Menzel and being a good sport about not being nominated. I really am not too nuts about the "Mama Who Bore Me" thing they've been the making the rounds with lately. Honestly. It just does not really represent the true awesomeness of the show for me. And here's "The Bitch of Living," THANK GOD!!!!!!!! And the lyrics are different, what? Oh well! There's John Gallagher, Jr., singing and thinking, "Hello, I just won a Tony." Random key change! And there is Jonathan Groff singing and thinking, "I will never beat Raul Esparza, but I am still wonderful in every way." What is going on with these lyrics? I do not understand. Nor do I much care. It's still splendid. And somehow Groff jumped off the chair and flew through the air landed on his knees. Does he always do that? And now they are singing "Totally Fucked!" and covering their mouths for the curse words! And they're "Blah, blah, blah"-ing and jumping and leaping and dancing, and it's magic. (Watch the video of the performance here.)

I am fast-forwarding through Fantasia because I'm getting impatient for the end. The reaction shots are kind of hilarious when she finishes. Taye and Idina look both confused and concerned. Maybe they never saw her become hysterical during a song on American Idol.

Bernadette Peters fills me with happiness. She is so small but so commanding and so perfect. OMG, what if Jonathan Groff wins? Okay. Deep breaths. And it's David Hyde Pierce. WOW! This really shocks me. He looks rather nauseated and shocked, too, walking down the aisle. He is shaking and crying. Oh God, beautiful. "And I'm sittin' here tonight and I'm reminded of Raul's amazing performance and my dear friend Michael Cerveris and Gavin who tap dances on the ceiling and Jonathan who has so much talent at a young age that I have to go take a nap ..." He is lovely. He seems genuinely overcome and moved. And he thanked his partner Brian of 24 years publicly, finally. Wonderful.

Ben Vereen and Usher. Oh, I hope Jonathan Groff is okay. I'm sure he is. He's like 21 years old and has a long future on the stage. Keep your chin up, Jonathan! Ben Vereen and Usher are presenting Lead Actress in a musical. If Christine Ebersole loses and Audra McDonald (don't get me wrong, I love her) wins her FIFTH I might fall over. Oh shit, why am I so nervous for this one? Woo! Christine wins! She is divine.

Best Musical: Spring Awakening. Wow. Stunning and magnificent, if you ask me. Everyone is screaming and pumped. Carla Gugino appears to be giving them a standing ovation all alone in her row in her florescent green dress. Why is Tamara Tunie standing onstage? What the hell? Oh, she's a producer. Who knew? Stupid Tony producers for giving the show time for those stupid "there's a little Broadway in everyone" clips instead of letting the goddamn best musical give its whole acceptance speech before getting played off.

Anyway. Until next year. Phew. That was exhausting. I don't know how Kymm does this every year for multiple awards shows. All props to her. I'm going to bed now to dream about showtunes and curtain calls.

Elisabeth Ignoramus Hasselbeck

Oh, Elisabeth Hasselbeck.

Today on The View: Joy Behar said, "I want a president who believes in the Constitution rather than in God."

And Elisabeth, in her infinite wisdom, said with all of the force and authority in the world, "Our Constitution has God ALL OVER it!" As if that were the most obvious, no-brainer of a statement ever uttered.

No, Elisabeth. God is most certainly not "all over" the Constitution.

Sigh.

A few links

I heard this song on the radio on the way home from work today. I liked it.

My new favorite celebrity website belongs to Ross Mathews. I don't stay up late enough to watch The Tonight Show, honestly, so I wasn't familiar with him. But now I love him and find him highly entertaining and delightful. And he was on The View today, so of course I was suckered into watching yet another Rosie-free episode. But it was worth it, because Ross is so enjoyable.

Julia Sweeney is updating again. Hallelujah!

Frogs and falling chocolate

Life is going on. I stayed home on Friday night and did a week's worth of chores in one night and watched Dragonfly upon my parents' recommendation. I will not pass the same recommendation on to you. We usually have fairly similar taste in movies, but this one is just bad.

I woke up early on Saturday morning, stopped for a frozen coffee, and headed north to see my boyfriend. We ate pasta with walnut pesto for lunch and went to the grocery store to stock up on food for our canoe trip later that night. We spent part of the afternoon watching The Good German, which had cool lighting and a neat style but was mostly a bore. That said, Cate Blanchett remains unbelievably stunning and amazing to watch. This movie looked like a series of very beautiful black and white postcards, but the story never grabbed me.

We had a good time canoeing though this trip was somewhat less exciting than the last. I really enjoyed eating our sandwiches in our boat as the sun set. My favorite parts of this trip were the two frogs who hopped on board, Fritz and Ferdinand, the latter of whom spent much of the ride perched on my boyfriend's knee. And it was cool to only be guided by starlight since there was no moon.

We had an excellent brunch Sunday morning ... a mimosa, great Nicaraguan coffee served in a French press, soup with pesto and orzo, grits with veal grillades, and warm bread pudding with sugared pecans and a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. It was pretty much ecstasy on a table. And seeing a little about how they do things there make me like it even more in retrospect.

I would like to randomly point out that I predicted before Rosie even joined The View that things between Rosie and Elisabeth would end badly. I remain somewhat obsessed with how suddenly things spiraled into such ugliness at the end, and I stupidly keep watching the show because of guests hosts like Kathy Griffin, whom I love. Damn you, The View.

I stopped at Maryelizabeth's house on my way home yesterday and hung out for a while. Her baby is a ball of cute with black hair and blue eyes, just like her three-year-old was. I actually strapped the two-month-old in the baby carrier and toted her around the grocery store on my chest, which was amusing. I have to say, it's pretty astounding to see my friend with these two little girls, juggling them and wrangling them like a champion. I am sure it's not easy, and I give her props for remaining upright. Meanwhile, our mutual best friend Shelley is moving to Hawaii in six days to take up residence with her fiance, Bachelor Andy and Tessa, and the cast of Lost. Holy shit!

Between watching The Good German and reading the amazing The Book Thief, I've been consumed with all things German lately. I recorded American Experience: The Berlin Airlift, and it was pretty fascinating. I'd never even heard of it. The entire time I was reading The Book Thief, it occurred to me that I never really gave much thought to the ordinary German people during World War II. As for the characters in the book on Himmel Street, they were just poor people trying to survive and eat and who truly lived in fear of not joining and following "the party." They weren't evil, murderous people who wanted to annihilate Jews and take over the world even though they were "Heil, Hitler"-ing with the best of them. Disclaimer: I am going to sound very simpleminded and like an elementary school child when trying to explain this: it made me wonder if somewhere in my mind, not really consciously, but if somewhere in my mind, I grew up villainizing a whole country of people, imagining them all as wicked and evil, because of what their leader did. I honestly don't really think I ever thought about anyone in Germany at that time except for Hitler and the Nazi party officials and the SS. But what about the people who were just trying to live, keep their jobs, afford bread, and not freeze to death, and whom we bombed to rubble? And my boyfriend pointed out that much of the world probably thinks the same way about us. Not that George W. Bush is Hitler or that what he's done is like what Hitler did, but he's certainly no peach and we've just sat back and let him continue doing and saying one stupid-assed thing after another.

Anyway, my point is that the show about the Berlin Airlift just drove home a lot of the thoughts I had while reading that book. The people in Berlin were starving and their city was crushed and divided, and they needed help. And so for whatever reason -- out of the goodness of Truman's heart or because he wanted to be reelected -- whatever the reason, this huge operation was undertaken to feed them. And the kids on the show talked about how the sound of American and British planes overhead was once the terror of their lives -- just like in The Book Thief -- and now all of a sudden they had to wrap their minds around the fact that when they heard these planes, they did not have to fear for their lives and hide in the basement until the all clear because it was now a friendly sound and chocolate bars would fall from the sky. Can you even imagine? And the American and British pilots talk about how they didn't have warm feelings towards the Germans because they were the enemy, after all, right? But when they landed with the food, they saw that they were just normal people, some of whom even ended up being mechanics on their planes so the project could keep going and succeed. They were like, hello, we were just blowing each other up a few months ago, now let's work together and make this work.

It's just a lot to think about. I saw photos of these kids and I thought about Leisel and Rudy in the book and it was like fiction and reality were colliding in my mind and heart. And the show talked a lot about the splitting of the city into the four quadrants and now all of a sudden Russia became the enemy and look, half a century of fear or more death and horror started and a wall was built and what the fuck? It makes my head hurt and spin a little and wish I had taken a lot more history classes. I mean, my God, I think I took something like 8 or 9 of them in college, but not really from this period. And I kick myself for that. And now I have put truly an inordinate number of World War II documentaries into my Netflix queue. And I really, really, really want to go to Berlin.