All posts tagged Batman

Meanwhile, back on the ranch . . . .

Published May 18, 2017 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

So in addition to the muddle, muck and mire that makes up the end of the school year, I’m trying to see if I can write/create a new genre of fiction.

I have always been peripherally attracted to Southern Gothic {not in the Romantic Vein, (world’s worst adult toy shop.) Isn’t my use of internal bracketing amazing (speaking of bad adult toys)? }

I enjoy Faulkner and Flannery O’Connor; I realize that these two are more Southern Grim than Southern Gothic.  Still, both types make me think of Humidity and Bourbon (I think that’s a new drink at a Hipster bar)

At any rate, one of they key features of Southern Gothic is an element of the supernatural whilst the protagonist, antagonist and others languish in the heat and stupidity of the South.

My second novel (in process when I’m not shepherding sixth graders, apparently for the love of the game and not any fiduciary recompense. Don’t I have a great vocabulary?I’m ever so smart; still a chump, but smart.) The novel is told in bits and pieces from different, fictional secondary prose, such as police reports, recordings etc, is about the aftermath of four adult children of abusive parents wreaking their final revenge.

I’m considering turning it into Gothic via a Deus ex Machina in the guise of a Latina psychic. It’s just a thought. It’s probably transference of my hope for divine intervention to get out of my current set of trials and tribulations. (I wish I could sing the song from  Jesus Christ Superstar, but that musical gives Batman a pyschotic episode, which leads me to another tangent: Why I’m frustrated by the TV show, This is Us,

First and foremost is that fact that I have a blind spot of rage for actor Milo Ventimiglia. It’s because of his character in Gilmore Girls. He was the selfish, slightly oily, Jess, who Rory should never have picked over Dean.

I digress. (What shock!) While This is Us is a good series, it makes me flurb a bit because the whole show is all peaks; it’s all about Grand Gestures, there are precious few valleys and it’s hard to keep a pace like that. Or maybe it’s because I don’t think I will ever get a grand gesture for myself.

I’m not sure what kind of gesture that would be, exactly, but I do know that I may be at that age where most of the people I am close to are just exhausted by life and the grand gestures they performed have kind of fizzled away.

Unless, of course, BatCat, Frances in all of her relentless affection may wander in here to my classroom and throw herself at me; all of her ginger catly glory forcing me to the ground.

Of course how could a cat get 20 miles south, without a car or drivers license, not to mention open three sets of doors. Those are just details.

But wouldn’t it be grand?

And in other news . . .

Published July 25, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I slept far too late today.  I really intended to get up and mow a path through my house. It is seriously a pit  (All of the other times that I have complained about my house, it was actual Home and Garden photo worthy compared to what it looks like today.) Did I leap out of bed and take on the world?  No, I did not.

I woke up mostly on time and glanced at the headlines.  There was another shooting. This time at the teen night held at a night club.  There were a few other headlines on the old Huff Post that were reprints of previous editions and it took me a minute to realize that it is actually July 25, 2106.

So instead of jumping out of bed and shoring up some of the potential landslides in my house and possibly putting things away, I decided I would much rather build a blanket fort and cuddle with Batman.

The world’s problems didn’t go away but I did recover enough to get some errands done.  I also listened to a podcast about H.H. Holmes.  I did not know that after he left Chicago, he had every intention of building a second murder castle located in my home town.  If it hadn’t been for a horse swindle gone awry, he would have built one here in Panther City.

Now my world is crazy enough without having a murder castle somewhere within driving distance.

Speaking about driving distance, I had a fantastic adventure last week. The driving part went ok, Batman kept the remarks about my driving to a minimum and we arrived at our Airbnb with perfect timing.  We slept like the dead and wandered out to meet Actor Boy for an early lunch. I was thrilled and delighted to hear my kid’s voice come out of the radio and I actually squealed with delight.

Actor Boy looks healthy and mostly happy. He’s working really hard but loves his job.  He and Batman are both smokers so they had that at least to talk about. Although you can smoke Marijuana in Durango, you cannot smoke a cigarette within 10 feet of any business entrance.  This made the two of them a little growly. I have to say a ruckus was created.

Fortunately, no arrests were made and there were no injuries.  Actor Boy got such a kick out of it, he invited Batman to do a feature called Liar Liar on the radio show.

After making arrangements for the taping, Batman and I took a stroll through downtown Durango and found ourselves at an Ice Cream Parlor. (Note to self, investigate why Ice Cream is considered company formal.)

We walked in and approached the counter. While I was noting that they were almost out of an almond blend with chocolate chips, the two clerks, both of whom were about high school age, making them thirty years younger than both Batman and I, perked up and locked their gaze on Batman. They offered him a taste of the fresh apricot ice cream . The more nubile of the two bopped around prepping the ice cream and asked if he would like a double scoop. (I definitely heard the entendre.) Batman, remarkably clueless for a superhero, said that he would like his second scoop to be vanilla. The nubile bopper asked which he wanted on top.

Meanwhile I am still standing there waiting to order. No one seemed particularly interested in what I would like and if I would be interested in a taste of fresh anything. I ordered quickly and when I got my ice cream I fished out some money to pay.

Neither cutie even made eye contact with me and if Batman hadn’t taken the money out of my hand to give to the cashier, I would probably still be standing at the counter, ice cream dripping down my hand. I have never eaten an ice cream cone before it was paid for (That is another story.)

This was the beginning of our adventure.

The Ice Cream was really good.

I don’t know

Published July 24, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

I am not sleeping well. My insomnia is a by product of that time my head blew up. The chemical changes to my brain goo has made it damn near impossible to have a relaxing nights sleep.

I hate to whinge and whine because I do have a lot to be grateful for. The disruption of my schedule, and chronic insomniacs must keep to a very strict schedule, is due to my trip to Durango, Colorado to see Actor Boy.

Actor Boy has a new job that he truly loves and he is happy and healthy, albeit it busy, and since I have the time, I went up to Durango to see him (There are many, many fun stories about the trip, but I will get those down for public consumption when I’m not feeling so stabby.)

I have gotten less than six hours of sleep per night since I have been back.  It’s starting to take its toll. I am exceptionally crabby and anyone who knows me is aware that I can indeed be a mean, vile Gorgon. Fortunately I have medication that helps.

Last night was one of those nights and I took a nap today. Well, I tried to take a nap, but my nap was fitful and I woke up freaking out; a little like the dog in the Foghorn Leghorn cartoon, you know when he gets paddled awake? Actually if I saw Leghorn strolling by right now I would blow his face off, or get in my car and run him down, because really? I’m just trying to get some rest.

I realize this sounds like my crazy manifesto. I am really tired and I woke up hot, vexed and melting down. The melting down may be due to the fact that it is 101 degrees outside and I got up for water and noticed that there were two cats looking at me forlornly. My sweet kitty Samantha and her archnemisis Frances were completely out of food and water.

This set me off slightly because I am not the only person who lives here and I have been mostly trying to sleep, so I haven’t taken an active cruise through the house, partially because I don’t want to have to look at my back yard and the crumbling back porch area; in my current state I may just break off a hunk of porch, drive over to EH’s home and stand next to his intact home and bonk the wall at low speed but steady intervals, just loud enough to interrupt his house’s regular rhythms. He now has three little boys, all under the age of three.  (I know,I can’t handle the karmic blow from fighting insomnia with insomnia.)

So back to the cats. Frances and Samantha and I have the same question. Why, on the hottest day of the year do they not have water or food? They don’t have thumbs and I know they have interacted with the Tall Boy and Batman today.  Why did they wait to show their sad kitty faces to me, adding another factor to my meltdown?

I guess they figured, “She’s already cranked up, we might as well take advantage of the momentum.”

So now we know.

A trip highlight. Batman is my boyfriend. I am pretty excited about that. Now if he only had cat food in his utility belt.





Call me a snob, but . . . .

Published June 21, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

It’s that time of year again! Summer! Heat! Stupidity!

I have a birthday coming up. This week will be the last of my forty-sixth year.  The concept makes me both hopeful and a little ooged out. One month after birthday is brain day. This year it will be thirteen years since my head blew up.  So it’s either the end of my forty-sixth year or the end of the bonus thirteen (World’s worst thriller.)

Either way, this time of year always makes me introspective and thoughty.

Several events in my life have been challenging.

For those of you who have not committed the events of  my life to memory, here are the highlights

1) as to yet unspecified childhood trauma

2) tagged as the smart kid with “such a pretty face”

3) performed a sock puppet production of “Slave Girl” (Now that’s a story!)

4) Thoughtless words from Gonzalo Cervantes made me think I am less than worthy, and now he’s the size of a small mountain. (That’s right! I said it! )

5) Managed to get through four years of college and still emerge emotionally immature.

And then there was grad school.

I have had a tough time of it, like when my husband of 18 years  told me that he had been cheating on me since the death of my best friend two years previous and that his GF was pregnant.

Then there was the level of hell that I call my internship year teaching 160 theatre students a day.

Then there as an entire school year without a steady paycheck. I completely drained my savings and wandered back and forth between despair and relentless optimisim.


  1. I am now a fully certified teacher with four endorsements on my teaching certificate (I’m about to add a fifth)
  2. I have lost fifteen pounds since New Year’s day.
  3. I have gained an excellent reputation as a tutor.
  4. I performed in all female production of Macbeth and discovered that I can, indeed , close out the first half of a show with a monologue and NOT have a massive brain hemorrhage
  5. Trying online dating has helped me to embrace the fact that I am, indeed, an intellectual snob and will not answer messages that are misspelled and contain sentence fragments. (At least I haven’t corrected them and sent them back for the author to redo.)
  6. I acknowledge and accept that my house is a pit and that I just flat don’t care enough to make it less pitly without a damn good reason.
  7. I have a wonderful supportive network of friends and family including my Amanda Friend who always answers every Writer Chick crisis with, “How Can I Help?”
  8. My brother and I are repairing our fragmented relationship. (The fragmenting part is far too long a story to get into right now.
  9. I am allowing The Mom to help me. That may seem like a no-brainer, but I have been too proud to let her help too much.
  10. I have reconnected with a friend from my past who has swooped back into my world like a superhero to support me and remind me that I am special and deserve better than the shoddy treatment I have been given. (I’m not going to name no names, but The Mom gets the first punch at him in the smack down. ) What can I say, every girl needs a Dark Night on a fiery steed (Ok, in Buick with a very friendly cat.)

So there has been some good and some bad. This week I’m going to strive for the balance.

My kitchen is dirty because I have the funds and wherewithal to buy and prepare food. I also have a mop and Fabuloso! (It is the cleaning product of my people.)


Published May 30, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

Today I will be refraining from anxiously drawing parallels between Donald Trump’s rise and the madness that happened in 1939.  (Except, of course, that I am terrified and wonder how many people would be and will be willing to step out of their way to help their fellow man from the madness that tyrants have wrought, especially when they won’t get the sweaty hell out of the way to let someone get a lid for their icy cold soda.)

So, while I do have moments of cold, biting fear, I have many, many more moments that are made up of large bursts of silly.

I was conversing with Batman yesterday and I asked him what his favorite Unsolved Mystery is. He stated that he didn’t really have one and while I was giving him a quick rundown of the famous unsolved I interrupted myself and stated that quite a few of the mysteries that are considered unsolved, have actually been retired.

Like Amelia Earhart. Batman hadn’t heard the theory that has Amelia’s disappearance resolved.  I told him that her navigator, Fred Noonan was known to have a drinking problem. (What I actually said was, “He was a big ol’ drunk.”) and it is generally assumed that the plane crashed. I further informed him that theory has it that Amelia and Fred’s remains were eaten and scattered by Coconut Crabs.  (These  beasts should not be confused with Coconut Shrimp which are a big rip-off because they are more coconut then shrimp, and not as delicious as they could be.  I do not know what the coconut to crab ratio is, but I do know that those crabs enjoy chomping on bones and have been known to scatter their preys remains.) So that theory states that Fred and Amelia were either dead or incapacitated and subsequently eaten and scattered.

The whole time I was relaying this theory, Batman was giving me the look that I often get from people who don’t know me well. The look also includes a quick glance around the room to make sure that are no sharp or weighty instruments at the ready, just in case I lose the run of myself and stop talking about Giant Crabs and commence to running amok.  I asked him if he was looking at me because of the Giant Crabs or because I just happened to have this information available at the ready in my compendium of fun facts.

He said, “Both.”

I was relaying this story to my Amanda Friend and somehow we got on the topic of how we, (Amanda Friend and me) are more fun than a barrel of monkeys, but considerably more pleasant.  I remarked that we rarely fling poo. Amanda Friend noted that I left a loop hole for the possible occasion that me might need to fling poo. I got the giggles, picturing the two of us driving through the Great Southwest in convertible, a vat of manure between us as we flung ice cream scoops full of poo at anyone who might need it.

I realize that this does not really do anything to improve my image as a rational human being.

I have fun.

Oook Oook.

It will be in the last place you look.

Published April 25, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez

One of the best people I know is aptly named Joy. She is wonderful and full of humor and sunshine. I am also friends with someone named Sunny (actually two someones named Sunny).

It made me think about how labels fit or don’t, which also makes me think of various Barfly’s with whom I am familiar (I ain’t going to name no names, but if you really want to know, message me and I will happily, nay, gleefully tell you) will peel the condensation soaked labels off of their long necks with their much longer talons.  I’m not dead sure what kind of signal this is supposed to be, perhaps they are  willing to bare themselves as they do their drinks, perhaps after being soaked with atmosphere?

(Some of you can keep your rude comments to yourself. You know who you are!)

I am lucky. My thin veneer of gloom and disgust has been lifted, it slips sometime, like when I have to deal with the swamp out in my back yard or there is yet another complication with my house. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful to have a roof over my head and I know it is my own fault if looks like a Fraternity decided to have a yard sale at a crime scene. I just can’t seem to give a teeny-tiny little rat’s behind about organizing things just to have shift them one step ahead of a new and fun home improvement “opportunity”.

The Mom, Batman and my Amanda Friend  (world’s worst after school special) have contributed hugely to helping me get past a lot of my own angst.   I have been very lucky over the past little while to have enough wiggle room to find my joy and happiness. 

This time last year I though my heart was breaking, literally, because  I was having stress induced chest pains while I was teaching. My legitimate fear was that there wouldn’t be one student who would go for help if I actually dropped dead in the middle of class.

Three years ago I thought my heart was metaphorically breaking because my now Ex-Husband had an affair that he wanted to turn into a new life. My mother took me to Lourdes for a miracle. I got one and I survived.

Six years ago my dear friend Steve Garrett was slowly running out the clock of his life.  I thought my soul was breaking. I still miss him every single day and even though on some of those days all I can do is breathe in and out, I’m mostly ok.

After all of this time and the luxury to squeak by I think I have finally found my joy.  I see it when I make faces with a second grader as we take a break in an extended tutoring session. I feel it when I discuss theatre and literature with other alleged grown-ups.  I hear it when a student who was literally growling like a feral cat as we were working on social studies turns around and smiles and says “Thank You Ms. Lynda.”

And I feel it when I get to spend my Saturday afternoons building a cardboard train with Batman.

Joy is easy to find. It may be under the couch and covered with cat hair, but it can be fished out and dusted off. 

Just another chop busting day in crazy town

Published April 14, 2016 by Lynda Christine Rodriguez


I woke up this morning with a cat butt in my face.  No, really, Samantha was lying on my chest, resting comfortably with her tail swooshing leisurely across my face.  When she realized I was awake, she walked around in circle, taking care to dig paws into the convenient gaps between my ribs for better traction and then rested again carefully placing one warm kitty paw on my lips as if to say, ” There is no need to complain, crazy lady, I will move when I damn well feel like it.”

I am not one to argue with my cat before I am properly caffeinated, so I used my phone to check my email.  Oh, perfect, a complaint from an actor.  Yay. It is a valid complaint and one that I intend to address but it took a mere three separate communications to placate everyone involved until the next rehearsal.

What’s that, what else is happening that might also be in the chop busting circus? Well, my takes.  The Mom is doing my taxes, because she’s great, and she needed to get the tax information for the mortgage and any related house expenses.

Ok, so I had to track down the Ex Husband. This has become increasingly difficult because EH and AWT now have twins babies. (I do not perceive this to be a problem I have to take on, therefore I have very little patience when trying to contact EH when it comes to dealing with this giant, leaky, foundations shifting encumberance.) He has the tax info but he also filed his taxes claiming the interest on everything. This makes sense because he paid the mortgage for most of last year.  I understand this because I AM A NICE PERSON! What I don’t understand is why I am just now hearing about this.

Speaking of being a nice person, the ABF and I are no longer seeing each other. I’m not seeing him because I can’t raise him via hologram and he’s not seeing me because he doesn’t make an effort and I finally listened to my friends, family and well wishers and realized that I deserve relationships with people who make an effort, to, oh you know, speak to me and occasionally spend time with me.

The rest of my day will be spent cleaning  the floors and clearing some space because I am bribing Batman to help me with props.  We have to create vaudeville type signs, oversized panels for keyboards and train tracks, a giant top hat, segmented into two equal halves, two giant fan blades, something that could possibly be a lamp shade and hat rack branches.

Plus I tutor a child who has spent most of the day doing a benchmark test.

I have to say it is always great to end a day with a sweet little voice calling, “Bye Miss Lynda.”

Plus I’m finally going to watch the new Star Wars incarnation, and pizza, and props and Batman, and probably cat interference.

And we’re back.