Still limping and easily tired of walking on this fucking knee. My mother ([livejournal.com profile] redlibrarian39, by the way) is hanging out with me -- have I mentioned that she's trying the Bay Area on for size by subletting a room over near Highland Hospital for two months? One of those months is already gone. It's going quickly. It's so nice to have her here, though. She should come back for mid July to mid September, that's what I think. When it's sunny and hot.

We're going to a play that will probably suck tonight -- this season of the Berkeley Rep has been greatly underwhelming. This one is Zorro, and my friend Regina, with whom I bought these season tix, refused outright to subject herself to it: she was horrified last year by the more farcical of the plays we attended. Anyway, the experience of going to a play is usually nice, so who cares if it's not earthshakingly good. I feel like I've been spoiled over the last couple of years with really GOOD pieces, from Homebody/Kabul by Kushner to Leonardo's Notebooks (it might have been Da Vinci's Notebooks, but I'm avoiding that title, for obvious (Dan Brown) reasons) by Mary Zimmerman, and The Story of the People's Temple, by I forget whom. And lots of little gems, too -- including a hilarious two person farce with crossdressed virtuousos -- The Mystery of Irma Vep. I guess the BRT is due some boring plays, too.

Anyway, what I've been doing all weekend before this evening and the play is household stuff, in a very happy way. The dresser of my dreams that I've been waiting and waiting for and hunting and hunting for, on Craigslist, finally showed up a few weeks ago, but scheduling pick up (and help in carrying since I can't do it with this knee) has been awful. It is six drawers -- three next to three, so low -- and stained a dark brown. It's pretty. It's got a long sweep of a bare top that looks nice, though I don't know if I'll be able to keep it bare. I tend to clutter things with books, at the very least. It cost $20.

But I got it yesterday -- my sister and brother-in-law picked it up with their family van, and finally I have somewhere for CLOTHES besides clothes baskets. God, what a relief. I have clear floor space in my bedroom! I have enough clear floor space that I could potentially do yoga there.

Then my friend [livejournal.com profile] kaleidescope and I did errands like going to the FarMar, where I bought herbs to pot and cut flowers and turnips and lemons and little potatoes and strawberries. We picked my mom up and went on to Trader Joe's and other errands too boring to mention (because they weren't mine), including getting biodiesel for her car. Then babysitting and Mulan, one of my more favorite Disney films. And today, cleaning, laundry, and dishes and cleaning out the refrigerator (my mother actually did that, while I was washing dishes -- she's a fucking SAINT) kind of miniature gardening.

I've wanted to do this forever, since moving out here: have an herb garden. I haven't had one since Missouri, and I miss it. I don't really have a yard, just a few feet of space outside my ground floor apartment's living room windows, alongside a long driveway. I think it gets enough sun, though this Spring in Oakland there's been hardly any, so who knows how they'll do. I got lavender (which I've been wanting forever, two kinds, French and some other kind... maybe English. I got three rosemary starts, English thyme, French thyme, Italian oregano, and marjoram. I didn't see any basil, but I'll probably get another big planter (they're that terra cotta colored plastic, in a low round wide style) for it and for some sage, some chives, and maybe some dill. I don't know about the dill. Do I need dill?

Anyway, I'll post pictures soonish, once there is some goddamn SUN.

EDIT: Actually, Zorro in Hell, by the Culture Clash, a Chicano comedy ensemble group that's been around since the mid 80s, was damn good and funny. Some improv, a good framing plot, a funny cultural musing on the meaning of Zorro, from the Scarlet Pimpernel rip off in Chicano clothes, of the original author, some white guy whose name I've already forgotten, to the "Somos todos Marcos/Spartacus" of the Zapatistas. I'm really glad we went.
maeve66: (feminism)
Not that I am leaving the Dems off the hook, but this article from CommonDreams about a particular disservice to International Women's Day just makes me so fucking angry. This link is thanks to [livejournal.com profile] rootlesscosmo.

Fuck.

An event with these Iraqi women would have been an absolutely classic, and useful, antiwar event for March 8th, International Women's Day.

By the slightly relevant way -- I saw Nine Parts of Desire with a friend last week and it was nowhere near as good as I wanted it to be. A one-woman show made up of interlocking stories of Iraqi women gathered over ten years. The politics were very muddy; the question of the current war was barely addressed -- just by the character who keeps vigil over a bombsite from the first Gulf War, where her family and more than 200 other civilians died in a bomb shelter/bunker which was hit by an experimental bunker-busting bomb. Parts of the play were affecting and/or interesting, but the acting was pretty weak, which is a severe problem for a one-woman show. A shame.

IWD (not to be confused with WMD) is one of those American holidays celebrated far more internationally, I think, like May Day, aka International Workers' Day. International Women's Day was a major holiday for me in my youth -- peƱas, panels, parties, potlucks, political plays, fundraisers. More celebrated on the left than May Day, actually, or at least productive of more competing events. I miss that.

One of my students last week (we were learning days of the week, months, numbers, and thus, birthdays) revealed that her birthday was May 1st, and then surprised me by telling me it was an international holiday for workers, but it always made her angry because her father has to WORK that day! Oh, I love the Mexican diaspora.

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