Parting is such sweet sorrow...

I hate goodbyes.
HATE them.
And I don't mean the "Goodbye, 'cuz you're leaving the theatre and I won't see you 'til Tuesday" kind of goodbye. I mean when out-of-town actors return home or graduated students leave for college or friends and colleagues relocate permanently.

I will hide.
I will ditch.
I will send flowers and cards.
I'll text or Facebook.
I'll write a song and make a personal video.
But I loathe in-person goodbyes.
I get too attached to people too quickly and it becomes overwhelming. I either cry and babble and carry on like someone is dying a slow and painful death - or I shut down completely and then go home to bawl in the shower or eat my feelings in shameful solitude.

Opening Night Party = Awesome!
Closing Night Party = Torture!

It's 3am on Saturday morning and I can't sleep because my very own farewell party is tonight.

I have been purposely immersing myself in the logistics of moving - the paperwork for the new apartment, getting utilities scheduled, repairs on the Jeep, packing, donating, tossing, selling and packing some more... Anything and everything I can to live in blissful ignorance for just one more day.
But the truth is, I'm going to have to say goodbye.
Not for good. Hell, I'll be back in six weeks to do a show at ABT and will be here through Thanksgiving, so there's that.

But there's after that... and then after that, too...

And finally, in the solace of an empty bedroom - I give in to my denial.
I bitch and moan and gripe about my home state constantly. If you've known me long enough, you've heard me gripe about the weather, the politics, the landscape, the economy, the idiots... or all of the above.
But the truth is, there's a reason that I've lived here for all of my 36 years. There are many reasons.

Even if the weather was unbearable, the politics ridiculous and the economy in the toilet, the people... MY people made it worth living here. My family. My neighborhoods. My theatre community. The people I grew up watching... the people I grew up with...

YOU... reading this right now... are one of the reasons it is so hard for me to leave.

There are too many people to list in a blog post, and I suspect it would get boring... but I'm going to do some shout-outs via Facebook and perhaps an individual blog or two to help me get all the sappy out of my system.
Truth is, I hate goodbyes... and tonight I'll have no choice but to face them. Many of them.
Thank HEAVENS I'll be doing it mostly drunk! :)

It's bittersweet, but I'm at least excited for the chance to have so many of my friends in one place at one time. Plus it has been a good while since anyone threw a party for me.

Hmmm... maybe I should move more often.  In fact, maybe I should have a 'Farewell Pary - Part 2' when I close the ABT show!

Regardless, I'm ultimately grateful to have people in my life worth saying goodbye to - even if it does mean doing the ugly cry in front of them all.

My Planned Parenthood/Brewer Rant

Yesterday, I linked this article to my Facebook:
http://news.yahoo.com/abortion-battle-planned-parenthood-sues-arizona-003707537.html

It discusses the law passed by Jan Brewer to block funding to Planned Parenthood from the state. In response, Planned Parenthood is suing the state of Arizona (and five others that have followed suit by pulling or blocking funding.)

Here's my problem with this whole situation: Leatherface (and those that support this legislation) is basing this decision on moral grounds because Planned Parenthood offers abortion services. In fact, a whopping 3% of their clientele require abortions or abortion referrals. Three percent.

I have personal experience with Planned Parenthood. When I was active with my church group, there were regular protests and rallies against PP. This was in the late '80's when the ProLife movement was really gaining steam. My uneducated self only knew that PP was 'bad' and associated with the dark, seedy abortion clinics of my imagination. Evil lived there!

Fast Forward to my Senior year of High School... I had just turned 18 and a home pregnancy test confirmed that I was pregnant. Without knowing where to go or what to do, my boyfriend and I ditched school one afternoon to drive to the PP in Phoenix (where no one was likely to see or recognize me).
Once there, they ushered me into a room where they administered a pregnancy test (again, positive) and set about asking me a series of questions about my support system at home, my academic and work history, my economic and financial plans. After answering their survey, my boyfriend and two counselors joined me in a homey little conference room where we discussed my personal options. I knew abortion was not a choice for me... and because I didn't bring it up, it was NEVER discussed. Not once. Adoption was discussed. Keeping the baby was discussed. But I wasn't pushed for any kind of 'decision' in that room and when I left, I had an armful of pamphlets for adoption and a stack of coupons for diapers and baby formula, and a sample bottle of prenatal vitamins to get me through until I could arrange for legitimate OB/GYN care - which was encouraged.
Since then, I've been without health insurance on a number of occasions (such is the case when you work as a free-lance artist) and during many of those times, I've relied on PP for birth control, my yearly lady-exams, as well as breast cancer screenings and specialty referrals - all on a sliding scale directly proportional to my income.

I am the 97%.

My daughter is a Senior in High School this year. I'm thrilled to death that she can be covered under her dad's health insurance for several more years. (A luxury I didn't have at 18, even though I was still a student - my mother's insurance rejected my prenatal care and so the state paid for it entirely under AHCCCS.) So, in my case, the ACA would have helped me out and actually saved taxpayer money - which is why I roll my eyes at those who rail against it.

If my daughter were stuck in college with no health insurance and no money and needed to get her monthly pills or a well-exam, PP is precisely where I'd refer her.

She is the 97%.

I don't understand the mentality.
It's like saying you can't support a restaurant because there's a dish on the menu that you can't eat.
Or calling for the closing of all pharmacies because they are stocked with the 'morning after pill'.
Really? So no one will get their Cumadin, or their Darvocet? Screw the people who need their inhalers refilled or their oxygen tanks replenished. Evil lives here!!

No one says you have to agree with it. Hell, I don't agree with the idea of getting wasted every night 'til you puke... even though it's perfectly legal.

There's a sense of entitlement that permeated our moral fabric and resulted in the 'right' to reject anything that isn't part of our chosen lifestyle, and I fear it has affected our common sense.

We cannot rid this world of all that is undesirable or wicked. We cannot sanitize it to everyone's liking. There will always be poverty. There will always be war. There will always be starvation and oppression. There will always be serious issues requiring serious debate and laws to 'protect and serve' the people of this nation and this planet. They will not always 'protect and serve' you. Sometimes they protect and serve your neighbor. Sometimes a corporation.

What I don't understand is why we can't support an entity or organization that is 97% "good", but rather must do away with it because it is 3% "bad"? Where do we make that distinction? Based on what is undesirable to us?

I'll tell you this... if I used that rule to toss out students, I'd have no one left to teach!! My theatre kids are amazing, creative, talented, energetic little creatures... but as teenagers, they run about a 95/5 ratio of helpful qualities to undesirable ones. I'm sure that I run at about 80/20... some days, I'm straight-up 50/50.

In the meantime, the law doesn't go into effect until August 2nd, so go get your well checks now. Who knows what will come of these services in the near future. Also, AA Women's Health at 4135 Power Rd. in Mesa is holding a 'Well Women's Care Clinic' on July 21st at 8am - offering free services for the day to promote their new facility... presumably to the 97%.

Thank you, Jan Brewer, for saving us from evil - and ourselves - by limiting the funding available for women's services. I'm sure that someone out there will look back at this and say, "Well, that's the smartest thing she ever did."

Someone.

But not the 97%.

Mathematically Speaking...

Moving is expensive.
Moving out of state is just ridiculous.

What was left of my rather small 'nest egg' is now almost gone, leaving me to reflect on how long it takes to build up savings vs. how rapidly it depletes.

I do not appreciate math for the 'universal language' it is purported to be. Numbers stress me out. This is why I became an actress. I deal with words and pictures and thoughts and ideas and emotions... not numbers. That's what agents and managers and accountants are for. They are the universal translators that speak a language I do not.

That being said, I've been overwhelmed with the administrative requirements in setting up a home 2,000 miles from where I am currently located.

Establishing a new home is expensive. For renters, there's first and last month's rent (or one month 'security' and first month's rent) plus any applicable 'pet' deposits or non-refundable cleaning deposits, administration fees, application fees, etc. In my case, $50.00 in application fees for myself and my roomie and $1970.00 in deposits/first month's rent. Total: $2020.00... gone in the blink of an eye. (Or the click of a mouse.)

Then, of course, there's the utility deposits. I had forgotten about these. Since I haven't had an account with any utility company in Florida, I get to pay deposits for EVERYTHING. Power & Light: $200.00, Water: $95.00, Internet: $190.00.  Running Total: $2505.00. Boom. Gone.

Now, that's just to move IN to this place...
The transportation TO Florida for myself and the cats is going to run about $1000 between the rental car, gas, food & lodging. Total: $3505.00. I weep.

Moving what's left of my pared-down furniture and belongings will run approximately $1500-$2000.00... Running Total: $5505.00. I weep uncontrollably and begin listing everything of value on Craigslist.

The items I'm NOT shipping (the couch, my bed, my TV and entertainment center) will eventually have to be replaced (I've estimated $1500-$1800 total) but not before I spend some time sleeping on an air mattress, I suspect.
Running Total: $7305.00. I faint.


My Jeep is staying here, so I'll be without a vehicle in Florida. I'm thankful to have a bike in storage because I just can't add any more numbers to the growing tally without it having severe repercussions on my long-term outlook. I have about $4300.00 left to earn/raise/save in the next month - which seems impossible, considering the fact that it took me AGES to save up the $3000.00 I started with.

And so, I don my black armband - in memory of my savings. I loved him once. I know he felt neglected, but it was because he was reserved for a higher purpose. I cried when he left and still haven't been able to completely shake the funk of knowing he is no longer there to comfort me... and I will miss him. More than he (or Wells Fargo) will ever know.

In the meantime, all I can do is look at my running total and think, "That's a downpayment on a house. It's a car. It's my salary for 2-3 months. It's a semester of a college class for my kids."

No, math is not a universal language.
It is subjective.
Just like art.

                                                                          Me on math.



**Update: As of noon o'clock today, I've decided that I'm going to try to drive my Jeep across the danged country. Between Jason, his buddy, and my mechanic, I'm told I can get it 'adventure-ready' at a lower cost than renting a car. Plus, I won't be so whiny about being in a new town without transportation. So... there we go. Cutting costs already!!

It's really all about the cats.

I've been surrounded by pets for as long as I can remember. We've had cats and dogs, rats and turtles, fish and tarantulas, and even snakes from the time I was young through the present.
Animals have always been a part of my life and my children's lives.

What I'm trying to figure out is when and how they became the primary factor in every decision I make!

I began to plan my move with the logistic discussions that I assume are normal - How much of my stuff will I take? Do I hire long-distance movers or drive a U-Haul? Rent a 'Pod'? Do I drive or fly? Where will I live when I get there? Etc, etc.

Enter: The Pets.

It was decided between Jason and I that he would keep the dog and two of the cats and I would take the other two cats with me. (One of which is 'my' baby, the other of which is my baby girl's 'baby'.) And this is where easily half of my options were eliminated.

My cats are privileged. They are spoiled, coddled, and prissy. AND... none of them travels well. They go bat-shit crazy in a car. If they're in a carrier, they protest. LOUDLY. And they are persistent. Just when you think they're going to stop or get hoarse... they just keep going. I am wholly impressed by not only the stamina, but the volume that these cats can produce. You know that cat fight you hear in the middle of the night like it's right outside your window?   ...Well it's happening THREE MILES AWAY!

So, flying is out... I can't sedate them and I can't subject an entire plane full of passengers to their wailing for four hours. That's just mean. Plus, I can only fly with one cat, so someone else would have to fly with me in order to get the other cat there. No dice.
That leaves driving. Across the country. With cats. Cats who don't travel well.
That also means driving something big enough to fit the cat crate and all it's catsessories. And it ain't going to fit in the front of the U-Haul or a Ryder or any other rental truck suitable for hauling my crap.

It turns out that my cheapest route was to hire long-distance movers, since I'm not taking a ton of stuff (well, actually, it's just under a ton by weight) and to rent a car (or a small SUV or minivan, rather) for the trek from Phx to Sarasota. Conundrum solved... and now I'm just obsessing over how much wailing I'm going to have to listen to for the multi-day journey. I swear that moving these creatures is giving me ulcers.

Not to mention the fact that - when renting - cats present another set of problems. Many private owners don't want to rent to tenants with pets for fear of the damage that the animals can cause. Apartment complexes that do accept pets usually charge ridiculous 'pet deposits' and sometimes even a monthly 'pet rent'. I'm thanking the heavens and my lucky stars that my roomie and I found a 2bdr/2ba townhome that accepts pets with only a $250 additional deposit. Cue choir of angels.
So, the two biggest logistical issues have been put to bed. I know where I'm going and how I'm getting there... I'm still fundraising and saving my pennies to cover the moving costs, and I will have some big ticket items to replace when I get there. (My couch, my bed, my TV.) They're either too old or too cumbersome to bother with the expense of shipping and will cost less in the long run to replace. Hello, Craigslist!

I'm also realizing what a pain in the butt it will be to rebuild some things like my spice cabinet... but I'm trying to pare down all my crap and go as minimalist as possible here.

In the meantime, the cat crate is assembled and looming in the corner, promising quite an adventure (and giving me heart palpitations) any time I look at it.
My saving grace is the knowledge that my destination has a pool, a jacuzzi... and is 3000 yards from the beach.
The cats don't give a shit about the pool.

Click here to donate to my moving fund! (Or just send Valium?)

The Blog about Moving...

Moving sucks.
I've lived in 7 different places in the last 11 years.
I hate moving. Hate it. HATE.

Number One, I'm a pack-rat. I save EVERYTHING. Not valuable stuff, mind you... sentimental stuff. A poem I wrote in Kindergarten, ticket stubs from shows I've loved, the kids' first lost tooth - which is understandable. But floppy disks full of furniture for 'The Sims' and a misspelled fortune cookie slip? Move on already! Needless to say, I've amassed a lot of crap in the last decade.

Number Two, I'm not an organized person. Half of my craft stuff is in the linen closet and the other half is in the studio where I built an emergency prop 6 months ago... that's just how I live. Getting all of my stuff into boxes is one thing - getting it organized into the same boxes... well, that's just impractical. Half of my bedroom kitsch got packed into boxes with my pots and pans.

Number Three, I hate manual labor. More notably, I hate anything that requires upper body strength. I will walk miles upon miles (uphill both ways) before I will pick up something heavier than 40lbs and move it from point A to point B. I am an upper-body weakling and I don't like being reminded of it, so I just don't try.

So, the week of June 25th - after returning from a glorious overnight trip to San Diego with my other two witchy cohorts, I set about 'downsizing' and packing everything into boxes.

Photo proof of the first broken nail in the process - which also accurately expresses my opinion about packing and moving.









By the end of the week, my goal was to have everything of mine in storage and ready to load for Florida. With the exception of the washer and dryer (which required help from the guys and their truck) I made my goal... with only two monster bruises to show for it! 

And although I had wonderful company during my days, they weren't much help at all. 







I have NO idea what she's smiling about. It's MOVING DAY!!

Calling upon the powers of my daughter's favorite demigod, I sally forth unto the adventure that is schlepping crap from one place to the next....

And, in the end... after much scrubbing, sweeping and swiffering.... I say 'goodbye' to my last home in AZ - and 'good riddance' to the craziest landlord - and possibly the craziest person - I've ever met.

The final bruise count is inaccurate, but it looks something like this:

And when all is said and done - I'm 95% moved into storage, awaiting departure for Sarasota - Jason is moved in to his new apartment... and we take a well-deserved break for wine and spa treatments.

We're both a few hundred pounds lighter - having relieved both our households of furniture, clothing, knick-knacks, crap, junk and shit. Here's to hoping that the next move is as easy or easier than this one... Good God, I have to do this again in a month!! 
 ...more wine, please.