The Power of Blogging

I recently posted about how creepy I thought the Stanley Steamer ads were, so the Stanley Steamer people have changed them. This is the power of blogging! The new guy doesn’t look like a pedophile. He is in the oval office and he is not sniffing llama poop. I tried to find a picture of that ad, but the only thing that came up on Google was the ad where the kid says, “Mom, wanna see Toby’s new trick?”

The Santa Diaries Play Update

The fourth draft has been read  by the Avalon team and we are in the process of scheduling a meeting to arrange a table read and talk about marketing. The table read will tell us approximately how long the show will be. We had the rewrite of the beginning of the play critiqued at Forum last night. Some terrific suggestions. Thanks, all.

We are also in the process of novelizing the play and this has had an interesting side effect. Writing this story as fiction allows us room to do all that lasagna stuff I wrote about previously. As we did that, we got to know the characters better and it was easier to make the play longer. (We had been asked at the last meeting to add 20-30 pages.) When you find out that somebody wears red high tops you know something about them you didn’t before.

And Now – per request – the Rest of the Mala’s Ben Wah Story

Back in the 70’s I watched hippydom from the sidelines. I was in the kitchen most of that decade chasing kids and making chocolate chip cookies – without any psychedelic additives. But I did dip my toes into that tempting alternative lifestyle from time to time, and at one point joined a women’s conciousness raising group. We met once a week for almost five years, which I think was a long time for something like that.

A member of the women’s group knew somebody who was having a sex toy party. We were curious. You have to understand, we were all watching the sexual revolution from the suburban sidelines and the only sex toys we knew were our husbands. The idea of something you plugged into an outlet, that never ran out of juice, was exciting.

At the sex toy party that I learned about ben wah balls. I was intrigued, so I ordered a pair. They came in a pretty box and were enameled with flowers and birds. The saleslady at the sex toy party told us how to use them. The balls are fairly heavy with a chiming bell inside. You insert them and walk around or rock yourself to a halleluia chorus.

Once I had them, I needed to find a time when I had the house to myself. Our only rocking chair was in the living room and I didn’t want any distractions. Jingle, rock, jingle, rock, jingle, jingle, jingle. Things were just getting interesting when I heard a truck coming down our very long driveway. When you live in the middle of thirty acres you don’t expect unexpected company. Probably a wrong turn off the highway.  I kept rocking.

Or maybe the UPS man, I thought. If he has a package, he’ll leave it on the porch. I rocked while I waited to hear the truck drive away.

Instead I heard a knock on the door. Crap! This fantasy did not involve my UPS guy, or the game warden who showed up from time to time, or the postman with something I had to sign for. I stood up quickly (forgot to kegel) and the ben wah’s fell out. One rolled under the pull-out couch that weighed a thousand pounds. We didn’t find it until we moved.

How pathetic. I needed Wiffle ben wahs. Of course, Wiffle ben wahs would hardly do the trick. It’s not the sound of the bell; it’s the weight of the balls that gets you to the chorus. And just so you know, if you Google kegel balls you get pictures of ben wah balls for medicinal purposes. Some of us are really good at multi-tasking.