I did it.

I am now a professional comic.

I performed in a show and earned enough money for a tank of gas and a cup of coffee.

It is more money than I ever planned on making for trying to make people laugh with my mouth. Or the sounds that come out of my mouth.

That sounded dirtier than I intended.

I have a hard time watching the video. I’m good with my performance, but it is weird to watch the awkward way I move. Why do I keep touching my hair? Could I just calm down a little? I look like I have to pee. Also, do I make that face a lot? Because damn.

But then I tell myself, this is who you are. Just because you can actually see what other people see doesn’t really change anything, does it?

Anyway, here it is. My first paid stand-up gig.

Changing the subject a little. And not for the last time in this post.

Getting my head around the election on the heels of my father’s death and my mother’s broken back wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. My coping skills had taken a hit and I did what anyone would in that situation. I adopted another cat.

This is Rudolph Valentino.

Since we have a Gertie and Bea, I wanted to stick with the old timey names. It doesn’t get much more old timey than Rudolph Valentino, aka Rudie can’t fail, aka Rudie, aka Dee Dee, aka Bubby. Because all cats are Bubbies.

He has the sweetest personality. He and Bea scrap a little, but mostly they play. Gertie hated him with the passion of a thousand burning suns, but he defers to her and she seems to tolerate him now. He is six months old and has been with us for 3 weeks. It kind of feels like he’s always been here.

The other thing that happened was over the holidays, I ended up in the ER. I haven’t been feeling good for such a long time. Mostly I felt exhausted, anxious and panicky. Which is understandable. But it turns out that my pulse was very low, which can make one feel exhausted, anxious, and panicky with brain fog.

Can I just say what bullshit it is to have a medical issue that mimics the other ways in which I already feel shitty? Makes it kind of hard to figure out. 

On Christmas Eve, I felt so awful that I could barely get out of bed. I was fairly convinced it was something more than just my normal anxiety and panic. I took my blood pressure which wasn’t bad but noticed my pulse was 50. My normal resting heart rate is the high 80s low 90s. My sister, who works in a hospital, told me to go to the ER and to not take any chances.

I was fine. Everything checked out. I went to my doctor and he took me off one of my medicines and ordered a monitor for me to wear for two weeks.

So, it was the medicine. I had a similar issue a year ago with a beta blocker. This was the drug that replaced it. I had the same reaction, I just didn’t know it. I thought it was my normal bullshit and was just powering through. All the while, my mortality anxiety was screaming in my ears. It has been exhausting and terrifying. I went to the ER because my pulse was low, but I think it has been low for a long time.

Within days of stopping the medicine, I started feeling better. Better than I’ve felt in nearly 2 years. I got the results back from the monitor and I’m fine.

I can’t begin to express how grateful I am. I don’t spend every day feeling like I’m wading through molasses. I can focus. I’m not cycling panic attacks.

Okay, so back to the stand up.

The show went so well that the venue invited us back. We think it will end up being a quarterly thing. Our next show is March 22. I’m working on new material. Because working on comedy and playing with the kitties is what I’m focusing on. Because I can focus now. Before, I was clinging to comedy and kitties.

Focusing is so much better than clinging.

Not an actual icon. The word. Specifically, the word “iconic”.

I told Randy this evening that we are witnessing the death of a word and there isn’t a goddamn thing we can do about it.

I noticed this about a month ago.

I had some interactions with people younger than 75% of our kids where they used the word “iconic” in a way I didn’t fully understand.

I meet with a group of humorists (Comedians? Funny motherfuckers?) Anyway, I meet with a group of people once a month and we work on stand up material. Last month, I met a young woman, Ariel, and we had the following conversation:

Ariel: You should perform at the LGBQT clubs. We love iconic older women. 

Me: Okay. So, to be fair, I am only older. 

Ariel: See? That is hilarious!

Me: Okay. 

I was terribly confused. Because I’m not an icon and, therefore, am not iconic. But she was awesome and funny and I loved meeting her.

As it turns out, Ariel took the same improv class that I took, just on a different night. She ended up making up one of her classes, in my class, a few days after we met where she said I was an iconic older woman. During the class she told one of my classmates that she could tell he was an iconic man.

And I thought “Oh, I get it. I think it might mean something else now.”

Just this evening, Randy was texting with our granddaughter, Madelyn. Randy and the grands share music here and there. Randy sent Madelyn a link to a Bob Marley song and Madelyn responded “Bob is so iconic!”

To be clear, Bob Marley, is an icon. He is iconic. Saying he is “so iconic” just isn’t quite right. Right?

I’m guessing iconic sort of just means “cool” now? Because everything that is cool isn’t also iconic. At least it wasn’t a little while ago.

Me: That’s it. It is all over for the word “iconic”. It’s dying. Maybe dead. 

Randy: You think? 

Me: Absolutely. We’re old. We know your name has to be Marilyn or Elvis or Madonna to be iconic. Or maybe you are bell bottom jeans, because they’re definitely iconic. Anyway, we’re old and dying. They’re misusing the word and that misuse will become the new definition. 

Randy: That’s depressing. 

Me: Right? Pretty soon we will have no icons because everything will be iconic. Like the new flavor of Mt. Dew will be iconic. 

Randy: Or my jokes will be iconic. 

Me:…

Me:…

Me: Still no. 

Randy: How about the joke about the goat? 

Me: Nope. 

Randy: Oh well. 

Randy: What do you want to do this weekend? 

Me: Let’s watch all the Nick and Nora Charles movies. 

Me: They’re so iconic.

Randy: There you go! Assimilate. 

I mean, in the big scheme of things, it doesn’t matter. You know, with our democracy on the line and all.

Please check your voter registration. Deadlines are coming up fast.

We aren’t going to let him back in office, right? That would be so not iconic.

I did it.

I had a new experience in that I bought my first pair of orthopedic shoes. I bought purple ones, because if there is anything women my age love, it is everything purple.

To be fair, it lacked the rush of scoring tickets to a Tom Petty tribute band or a nice pedicure but, at least, it didn’t make me as pouty as having to get bi-focals did.

I wrote a brief post a month ago about taking an improv class. I have two classes left. I’m not sure what I was expecting the class to be like, but it wasn’t this. It has been amazing. I love the people, the class is fun, and I can feel myself loosening up my expectations of myself. I think I’m going to keep going and take all the classes.

The downside is my feet.

Fucking hell, I cannot be on my feet that long. So, I did the thing. I cracked my knuckles and commenced to research old lady shoes. I don’t like researching things because it’s mostly boring. I did learn that orthopedic shoes can be very expensive. And there are a lot of choices.

So, I used science and picked the cheapest pair with the highest rating on Amazon.

Me: I bought orthopedic shoes.

Randy, who loves to research and would have been happy to research for me: Where did you get them? 

Me: Amazon.

Randy: When will they get here? 

Me: I don’t know. It was kind of a long shipping date. Probably 2 weeks. 

Randy: Do you know their origin? 

Me: Like their back story? 

Randy:…

Me: No. 

Randy: They’re probably coming from China. Why did you pick those?

I explained my method. 

Randy: They’re your feet. 

I did at least switch up my shoes with ones I already had for the next classes and it was better, but by the end of the class, my feet and back are pretty squidgy.

Then, they came! My purple old lady orthopedic shoes.

I am not going to lie, they were lighter weight than I expected. A little stiff. But still, they would save my feet. They had 4 out of 5 stars!

Cincinnati Improv offered a work shop with Luke Null, who was on SNL between 2017 – 2018. I decided to take his workshop this past Saturday. What a perfect time to try out new shoes! At an event where you will be on your feet for 3 hours.

There were more people in the workshop than in my 101 class and everyone else in the workshop had gone through the entire improv program. Some of them had acting gigs. I was older than all of them.

I have never wanted to run away from a group of people more in my entire life. And I could have, because I wore my super fast orthopedic shoes.

Turns out, I could hold my own. Everyone was kind and generous. Everyone laughed. I haven’t watched SNL in years, so I wasn’t familiar with Luke, but he was engaging and made the afternoon a lot of fun.

Also, my orthopedic shoes, not only didn’t make my feet feel wonderful, they actively hurt me. I felt new twinges in my back and hips. The balls of both feet swelled up. And they wouldn’t stay tied.

I don’t know how much one should pay for a good pair of orthopedic shoes, but I can tell you that it is definitely more than $59.99.