Now Playing: New Play
Topic: Personal
Well, I just got cast in another play!

I'm going to be playing "Aunt Caroline," otherwise known as "Miss Amory," in "Black Coffee," a Hercule Poirot murder mystery. It's a bigger role than I had originally thought, and memorizing lines is going to have to start early. I'm usually the last one off book.

I'm also costuming the show. It's set in 1949, which is a pretty easy period to cover. It's all in one house, so no hats (except for Poirot and Hastings), gloves, or bags, and I already have a good collection of period stockings for the three women. Most of the characters need two costumes, but some have only one.

Not like "The Women," coming up this season, which has 25 roles, with up to 8 costumes each. That might be my greatest costuming challenge to date; and I feel honoured to have been asked to dress it.

Now Playing: Ah, The Memories!
Topic: Personal
When I was 18, I somehow came to the conclusion that true love had passed me by. I met a squirrelly and mildly entertaining little chap in Toronto's hippie culture, and married him. He was arrested for selling pot to a police officer. This particular memory is of his lawyer. The lawyer was a public defender, and I wish I could remember his name. I'll bet he has made a fortune as a defense lawyer.

Brian was 18, and his best friend, Willy, was a couple of years younger. Willy was young enough to have his case processed through the juvenile system. He had already pled guilty and been whisked away to Nova Scotia by his parents.

The first thing the lawyer did was to insist that Brian go back to school and get a job, a haircut and a suit. He then proceeded to convince a jury that 16-year-old, apple-cheeked Willy was the dominant member of the duo and Brian his unwitting dupe. The pot had been sold by the "nickel-bag," in an envelope, with the word "dope" written on it in multi-coloured letters. Brian would have had to be blind, as well as unwitting not to know what he was selling! Nevertheless, the first trial ended in a hung jury, and the second, in an acquittal.

That's a hell of a lawyer!

Mood:  sad
Now Playing: Mothers' Day
Topic: Personal
Well, I've just had the crappiest Mothers' Day that I could ever imagine! Chandra didn't even call (though she did bring me a nice present on Friday), Vanessa called, but she mostly wants reassurance because she has surgery coming up on Wednesday, And Brendan totally spoiled dinner at Johnny Carino's.

He has spent the weekend doing a project that was assigned weeks ago, and due tomorrow. Consequently, he wasn't thrilled about taking time to go out to eat, but didn't want to say anything about it because he knew he would get lectured about leaving things until the last minute. So his attitude was poor, and his table manners worse. When queried by Jim about his sulkiness, the truth about the project came out. Jim (of course) couldn't resist the lecture, and Brendan said "You don't have to be such a prick about it!" Jim could not have been more upset if Brendan had slapped him. He recoiled in much the same way. Of course Brendan refused to apologize; the meal had been ordered, so Jim didn't want to leave, and we ate in a very uncomfortable atmosphere. Brendan did apologize to me, but that only made his refusal to apologize to Jim more glaring.

He did apologize a couple of hours later, as I figured he would, but things may be beyond truly repairing.

I feel like such a failure!

My Mom
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: part one
Topic: Personal
My mother was born in 1905, and died in 1977, just days after the birth of my older daughter, Chandra. She never saw her grandchild.

She was born in New York state, and her mother died when she was nine. She had one sister and two brothers. When she died, she didn't have their addresses so we could let them know. Not a real close family.

She was the stuff of pioneers. Absolute master of making something out of nothing. When we were so poor that she had to put peanut butter in the soup for added protein, she didn't know she was imitating an African recipe. She could do it all, from plowing a field, to cleaning a chimney, to knitting lace. She braided rugs, made table-top mosaics from asphalt tile, wrought iron-looking decorations from tin cans, Christmas ornaments from cigarette foil--she did her best never to waste anything. She would put the gleanings from her hairbrush out in the bushes for the birds to use in their nests. I am surprised she didn't save them to knit me a sweater!

I have an old, granny-square crocheted afghan that contains left-over wool from a twin set she knit for me when I was four. I can find remnants in there of many knitting projects. Even though it is in pitiful condition, I will never get rid of it; it binds me to my mother forever.

Introduction
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Please allow me to introduce myself...
Topic: Personal
Hello, Blog. Nice to meet you. My name is Veronica. I am variously called Veronica, Ronni, Vero, Cary, Mom, or Grandma, depending upon who you are talking to. Or, what mood I'm in. Or the colour of the sky, time of day, or any of a hundred other variables. I'm calling myself Ronni here, because of the alliteration factor. "Ronni's Rants" has more of a ring to it than "Cary's Rants," don't you think? I thought you'd agree.

The entries I will be posting will not always be rants; sometimes they will be observations, snippy comments, politically incorrect statements, cat stories, community theater stories, kid stories, or anything else that strikes my fancy. I just feel that, by titling this "Rants," you'll be prepared for the worst.

Anyway, I just feel the need of a place to vent. Blessed Blog, you are it!