Mishmash of Me

by Jeanne Lee

  Our office has moved a few times. I miss the last office. Not only was it on the 16th floor of a building in downtown Seattle with fantastic views, but—and get this business—we had a NAP ROOM. It was basically a closet with a recliner couch/bed thingie in it, and a clock, table, and lamp, but it was freaking amazing. You could sign up for a 15-20-minute slot and check out during your lunch hour.

  Did I want to end up working with patients at an OB/GYN clinic, scheduling, dealing with insurance companies, setting up payment plans for patients’ deposits, and then collecting and tracking their payments? I joke with my manager that I feel like a mafia gal. (Said in a Marlon Brando, godfather-like voice …) “So, you’re going to owe us some money. My girls, up front, they are going to remind you at your next appointment, and then they’re going to collect said deposit. Does this sound agreeable?”

  No. I did not have this picture in my brain of what I’d be doing in my forties and fifties. Not at all. However, this job has helped me take care of myself and my boys, hold on to our house and honestly, given me a little bit of direction. I guess what I mean by that is that I am someone who tends to live in the clouds. The stage and theatre were my worlds and I was happy acting, singing, directing. Back then, it was just me and I didn’t really eat much or own a house. I flitted from place to place, slept on people’s couches, and became different characters. Now it all seems like a distant dream. It was beyond compare. The nice thing about the theatre is that it is always there, warm and inviting. I make an occasional foray back to my home-away-from-home, and I always love it deeply.

  But, living in the here and now, taking a slightly Buddhist approach to the realities of life and this moment, the OB/GYN office has been quite a nice place for me to park my keister. Certainly not the love of my life, but a really good buddy you can call on to go get a drink.

  (One year at Halloween, our office dressed up as

  “Super Heroes;” I went as HOT FLASH, black

  cape, red lightning bolts, and a hand-held fan.)

  (Scene opens with Fred ambling across the

  stage; when he reaches center stage, he decides

  he needs a piece of gum; he stops, pulls a piece

  out of his pocket, starts to chew and then

  unconsciously throws foil/paper on the ground.

  Before he can take another step, superhero music

  starts, and he is confused, looking around.)

  HF: (Enters. She has a beautiful cape with lightning bolts all over it; she also has the initials “HF” either on her cape or chest …also, she is wearing a superhero mask across her eyes)

  HF: (striking a pose/music stops) STOP EVILDOER!

  Fred: (looks around) Wait …me?

  HF: Yes, you! You stinker, you villain, you abuser of Mother Earth and all humanity … Pick up your trash!

  Fred: (ambling full circle around HF) Wow! Look at that get-up. Hey, who are you supposed to be? A grown-up Powerpuff girl? Wonder Woman’s Aunt Betty? Wait …Millie, is that you??

  HF: NO …no (adjusts eye-mask) But heed my word, rapscallion …and pick up your gum wrapper, pronto!

  Fred: (considers, decides, crosses arms) Nope.

  HF: What? What do you mean, “Nope”??

  Fred: I’m taking a stand, sister; I’ve let too many women boss me around, and I’m not picking that up. Nope, not doing it.

  HF: (just stares at Fred)

  Fred: I’m serious—I don’t care if it makes sense or if I’m in the wrong; I’m. Not. Doin’. It.

  HF: (relaxes just a bit) What’s your name, friend?

  Fred: (confused) Friend? What happened to “evil-doer”?

  HF: Work with me here, dude.

  Fred: Umm …okay, my name is Fred. (Sticks out hand to shake)

  HF: (stares at Fred’s hand and continues) Well, Fred … did you happen to know that litter cleanup costs the U.S. almost 11.5 billion each year? And who pays for that bill? Huh? Ultimately, you and I, Fred … you and I and all the good folks out there. And how do we change this travesty, Fred? How? You, Fred …you can start by setting a shining example, mister! You can be a “NO-LITTER LEADER”!!

  Fred: You just want to win, lady …and I’m not fallin’ for it. (Takes another stance.)

  HF: You leave me no choice.

  (Pause)

  (Music starts) HF takes a heroic stance; she extends her arms towards Fred.

  Fred starts getting very, very, very HOT.

  Fred: Oh my … what are you doing? What’s happening to me???

  HF: I am HOT FLASH, Fred; You will suffer what countless perimenopausal women all over the globe have suffered and are suffering, but … times 1000! I will not let up until you pick up your Wrigley’s spearmint gum wrapper. You are doomed!!!!!!!!!!

  Fred falls to his knees, panting, devastated …HOT.

  Fred: Well, you think you can win?? Do you?? This is Florida, lady and in Florida, we are prepared!! (He reaches around his neck and under his shirt and pulls out a handheld, personal fan …turns it on). Yeeeeeessssssss … (he might laugh manically like a true super villain)

  HF: Noooooooooooo! (She falls to her knees and hangs head.)

  (Music stops …nothing but fan sounds)

  Fred: (Big sigh. Feeling better; still fanning himself.) Wooo. (Walks up to her.) Well, that didn’t take much, did it? (Offers his hand, leads HF to a chair). I don’t really like to brag or show off too much, but … I’m going to show you something, Hot Flash …and this needs to stay between you and me, okay?

  HF: (nods head, defeated) Okay.

  Fred: (hands HF his card)

  HF: Justin Bieber Fan Club President?

  Fred: (grabs card) No, not that one …this one.

  HF: MM?

  Fred: That’s right …MM! (Takes off jacket and a cape unfurls in the back with MM on the fabric)

  HF: Middle Management?

  Fred: Middle aged Man

  HF: Huh …I’ve never heard of you before.

  Fred: Oh, we’re everywhere.

  HF: What’s your superpower?

  Fred: Indifference.

  HF: What?

  Fred: I really don’t care about much anymore. Nothing really gets to me. Short of killing me, nobody can make me do anything.

  HF: That’s not really a superpower, Fred; that’s just being an asshole.

  Fred: Well, that’s your opinion, but it’s really quite effective.

  HF: How so?

  Fred: Well, people come to my door and want to sell me something. I just don’t answer it. In-laws want to come over and have a party; I just sit and watch the game and tune them out. My kids want money, I either give them some or I don’t … nothing really bothers me and I’m pretty darn happy.

  HF: But Fred, how does that help the world?

  Fred: Well, let’s see. I’m never going to have a heart attack; I’m never going to give anyone else any turmoil, hopefully. I’m promoting peace.

  HF: (decides on a new tactic) Ok, Fred. I get it … nothing bothers you; you don’t care about anything. No biggie.

  Fred: Really? You’re giving up that easy?

  HF: Well, a good superhero knows when she’s been beat. I just hope …I just hope (getting choked up) it doesn’t get back to my bosses; this could really affect my quarterly raise. But you know, no worries. I’ll just start walking to all my gigs; it’ll be good exercise (fake tearing up). I should probably take my cape off for a while to cut down on laundry, (clothes under cape are provocative). (Walks over to chair, hangs cape over the back of the chair, and eyeballs Fred, flirting a bit.) Not that you should care, Fred. I completely understand.

  Fred: Huh. Yeah. Okay.

  HF: So, how about you and I get a drink, Fred? I’m buying.

  Fred: Sounds great (takes her arm).

  (They take a few steps; HF turns around and

  looks at gum wrapper, looks at Fred.)

  Fred: (looks, thinks, saunters over to the wrapper, casually picks it up and puts it in his pocket)
r />   (Takes HF’s arm)

  Fred: Let’s go, HF. And by the way, I totally know what you did and I’m okay with it; you win this time.

  HF: Sure thing, M & M.

  HF (stops): Wait, you’d never cut your toenails in front of me, right?

  MM: Absolutely not. (Thinks for a moment, then says) Umm, you won’t ever ask me to go shopping with you?

  HF: Deal.

  HF: This is important; you don’t have a smart phone, do you?

  MM: Landline.

  HF: Yes!

  (They leave: HF comes back, goes to

  cape, puts it on … music starts)

  HF: VICTORY!

  (Runs off, cape flapping.)

  I wonder sometimes if I’m a romantic. Hmmm. I certainly tend to drift away in the clouds, dreaming, losing myself in stories. It’s just that, as I get older, my feet and the rest of me have become more grounded, more realistic, less likely to buy into the fantasy.

  I think one of my best moments of romance was thinking of a gift to my ex-husband for our 10th Anniversary. We met during an audition for “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs” at the Seattle Children’s Theatre. He was a stage manager who stood in front of a small, light brown, corduroy curtain (think junior high dress up pants) that separated the lobby from the theatre. He would call actors’ names and one-by-one, the curtain would part and we’d be ushered in. As I was leaving the audition with a group of friends, I asked my gaggle to wait a minute and I went back to Mr. Stage Manager.

  “I feel like I might see you around town and I just wanted to ask … what’s your name?” It was a weird move for me. I was and am shy and I’m not sure what possessed me to go over there. He told me his name and I left (and my friends gave me a bunch of crap, of course). I wasn’t even trying to ask him out. I really felt like I would just see him again. (I ended up being cast and saw him for the next four months straight!)

  Well, for our tenth year wedding anniversary, I decided I wanted that curtain. The theatre had moved locations and had drastically upgraded, but I still thought I might be able to find it. I called various theatre folk and finally found the costumer who had that magic material and other things in her basement from the old theatre. “Oh, Jeanne, you do not want that curtain,” she said. “It’s old and moths have gotten to it; it’s worn and bare and has holes all over it.”

  After some discussion, she said she could send me a small square of the curtain. It was perfect. Then, I found someone to embroider the number 10 over most of the square and I had all of it matted and framed. In retrospect, I guess it’s an odd gift, but it meant something to me and I think the ex liked it as well, because he wanted it when we were splitting stuff up on divorce day 6 years later.

  Stuff doesn’t mean as much to me and while the curtain is a thing, an item, it was more the idea of_that moment. I wanted to capture that time when we first met. Curtains are actually a strange symbol for relationships. We all have curtains over different parts of our souls, but with the right breeze, the right touch, we can move them aside, reveal who we are and see something new. Let in the light. Although, honestly, there may be some “parts” that are not something we want to see or share. I guess, then, we can just put that curtain right back, add a black-out curtain, a valance, and glue everything to the wall. Nobody gets to see your shit if you’re not ready. I imagine in a healthy relationship the breeze is flowing through all your soul curtains, the light is filtering in, and you can take deep, calming breaths.

  I wish every child had love, food, a warm home, complete acceptance and kindness surrounding them always. Then, they would (hopefully) grow up to be stellar adults. When I come across bullies or meanies or an occasional evil one, I often think, “What happened to you? Did you not get enough hugs when you were young? Who did this to you?” Power, control, anger, fear just wear on the tiny soul.

  I wish I could grasp—why war? Why do we fight and kill over land? Over RELIGION?! Religion? I mean, come on. Granted I am not well versed in all the religions of the world, but if your god is telling you to kill, then maybe it’s time to reevaluate.

  I wish for peace in people’s hearts. Treat everyone you come across with respect and a smile and some positivity. A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down, and it’s not a bad way to go through the world. I know it sounds incredibly Pollyanna, but I don’t care. Now, that being said, if someone treats you like crap, if you can, walk away. S’okay. Just turn your body and move your feet. It sounds simple, but sometimes it’s hard to do. And, if you have to fight, well, do it. Do it your way. Use words, get help, hire a lawyer, laugh … whatever is appropriate.

  Life can be so, so hard sometimes. The world is in chaos; events beyond our control can send us spiraling, loved ones can disappoint us. And the list goes on. But humor, gratitude, a deep breath, love, can conquer a lot. PEACE. I want that for everyone really, in my family, with my friends, my community, the whole world.

  PEACE.

  Oh, and I need to see the new Star Wars movie. And, yes, I totally get how hypocritical that is.

  I get it.

  Man-in-the-moon, I love you.

  You are so thoughtful and kind.

  Man-in-the-moon, I swoon for you;

  Our souls are intertwined.

  I swoon,

  Morning, night and noon.

  I am a dumbstruck loon

  Singing a heartfelt tune

  For my handsome man

  In-the-moon.

  You listen, my dear,

  Better than anyone I know.

  My affection

  Is completely sincere;

  My feelings ebb and flow

  Like the ocean’s waves . . .

  Crash and roll.

  We have an understanding,

  You and I

  Even though you are silent

  And shy;

  Our feelings cannot

  Be denied.

  You fill my heart, charm my spirit,

  Make me sigh.

  I love you, love you

  My man in the sky.

  I swoon,

  Morning, night and noon.

  I’m a crazy loon

  Singing a deep-down tune

  For my handsome man

  In-the-moon …

  You never give me crazy excuses

  About running late

  Or why you stood me up

  On our last date.

  No reasons regarding your

  Multiple accounts.

  Who needs 4 separate emails

  Anyway?!!

  I almost believe that your mom

  Is sick and needs you tonight

  But why are you wearing turtlenecks, honey . . .

  Are you covering a bite?

  And you WHAT??

  YOU SLEPT WITH MY BEST FRIEND!!

  Are you freaking kidding me?

  What in holy hell is wrong with you?

  No, no, no, no, no, noooo …

  This cannot be …

  Oh, my heart …

  This is NOT happening to me …

  (Pause)

  Man-in-the-moon, I love you.

  I really, really, really do.

  You are so thoughtful and kind;

  You love me unequivocally, and I you.

  We are quite the pair, my dear.

  I am with you, never fear.

  I love you. I love you …

  Take a guy,

  Any guy

  And put him in the “Morph” Machine.

  It’s a twinkle-y thing …

  With a silver screen.

  It pops and whistles and pings;

  There are sparkles and fireworks

  And all kinds of things …

  Noises, music and twirling parts

  With stars and spangles and pretty hearts …

  I’m a magic girl …oh, yeah …

  I can create a prince from a frog.

  I am a magic girl …

  Here’s a miracle man

&nb
sp; Where there once was a hog.

  The rose-colored glasses work for a bit.

  And it’s sort of nice, I must admit.

  But like all good things …the haze will lift …

  Life’s cruel, cruel gift …

  And there he stands in all his glory.

  The truth is an ugly story.

  This guy can be self-absorbed and rude,

  Smug, arrogant, ignorant and crude.

  I just shove him into the invention …

  And he enters into another dimension.

  (Twilight Music Starts)

  The weirdness leaves and what is left

  Is a guy bereft

  Of all negatives. That’s right.

  He now has a great heart, is polite,

  Loves his mom and his humor is out of sight.

  The whistles, pings, and sparkles

  of the Morph machine

  Work wonders galore,

  Changes personalities and so much more.

  Unscrooges Scrooges …

  You heard me.

  He becomes a lovely human being.

  It works every time …I’m guaranteeing

  That he will be protective and kind,

  Manly yet refined,

  Funny, not gross,

  Happy, not morose.

  Even if he’s not

  And therein, lies the rub …

  HE’S NOT …

  He’s a grub …

  It’s just who he is …not his fault.

  Hear me girls …HALT.

  The Morph Machine doesn’t do you any good.

  If only it would,

  It should,

  I truly wish it could.

  But it only brings heartache and pain.

  It will drive you completely insane;

  You can’t even complain

  Because you did it …not him.

  The reality is grim.

  Because the shmuck didn’t know he was changed.

  He accepts that he’s deranged.

  He’s okay …he’s just fine …

  It’s you who’ve lost your freakin’ mind.

  I’m a magic girl …oh, yeah …