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2008-06-22 - 9:21 a.m. gets better when you sing about clambakes...

First, a huge thank you to my d-land friends for your supportive comments. It helps a lot to know that other, strong, intelligent women have similar moments where they feel like the bottom fell out for a little while there...or just to have a voice of reason telling me that it can't be as bad as it felt. (or just understanding that horrible, horrible feeling of being a milked cow in a strange washroom. ugh. I don't mind in my own office, but in a strange public room was just beyond me.) I see a lot of my d-land cohort leaving for other online venues, and I understand. And even though I can click elsewhere, I will miss being able to look up at my buddy list and know that you've been in. sniff.

So things are looking brighter this Sunday morning. I've decided that the approach is to go back in positive and swinging. Start off each email with something positive about others' contributions, and simply accept naivety as a necessary part of the process. I don't have to like these people (even though I would like to), but I do have to work with them, so I should just think of that one guy as a template for a study of Mr. Bean. And that one woman I've always wanted to like? Let's face it. She's actually a block of wood. Accept this. There is no way for the two of us to relate. We do not share the same humor. But she's basically a piece of good wood..just leave it at that and figure out how to work with instead of against the grain. So ... be positive. be adaptable. And if all else fails, realize it isn't that important.

Feeling a little bit better. I've been listening to my favorite NYC radio program and they are playing wonderful old Carly Simon and Christine Lavin tunes. And they just burst forth with "This was a real nice clambake" from the musical Carousel.

I have a special place in my heart for this musical. I saw it for the first time in the 4th-5th grade, when it was put on by H1ghland H1gh School. I loved it (looking past the whole theme of "what's the use of wondering about your disgusting boyfriend who beats you sometimes because he's yer feller and you love 'em," of course, ahem.)

Anyway, the next time I encountered this musical was in the 9th grade, when Blighty and I both played in the pit orchestra for our own high school (Blighty on flute, me on clarinet). We rather liked the whole clambake song, although of course, instead of singing the melody at the cast party, we sang "diddle diddle dit dedo - deedit, diddle diddle dit dedo - deedit!" theme played by the orchestra (something NOT so easy for 9th grade flute and clarinet players, when it comes with four sharps...but nevertheless amusing.)

So when this song came on the radio, I swooped Susi into my arms and tried to speed waltz with her, sang my own chorus of "Fittin' fer an angels, Fittin' fer an angels, Fittin' fer an angels choir!!" before breaking into a rousing "diddle diddle dit dedo - duhddit!" over top of the main melody. Susi giggled. So did I.

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