Can Someone Please Tell Me...

What happened to November?!

Last I checked, it was October... I left just as Fall and Halloween decorations were beginning to adorn my neighbors' doors!
I have a vague recollection of doing a show, and some fuzzy memories involving pies and turkey, but it's a blur. Sometimes life happens so fast that I don't feel like I have time to take it in and digest it all. I can only respond and volley and snap into action. An unchoreographed waltz with an undesignated lead. Once the action settles, I look back and say, "What just happened there?"

So... the highlights and lowlights of the past month and a half:
I spent 5 weeks in my hometown of Mesa, Arizona doing a fun little romp called 'Menopause The Musical' with Prather Entertainment (Broadway Palm, Dutch Apple, The Palms) and met an extraordinary group of women who took me in with kindness, consideration, and patience. It was a very fortuitous and serendipitous opportunity, and I had a blast being back on my 'old stompin' grounds'.

During my time there, I got to see my daughter (for like a minute) and her BF, my mom and step-dad, my sisters in law, Grandma & Grandpa, my dad, many of my dear(est) friends, and spent some extended time with my son. If you'd have told me in October that he would be living with me in Florida by Thanksgiving, I wouldn't have believed you. But that's the unpredictability of life, yo. He is here. His ginormous shoes infuriatingly in the center of the living room. And I couldn't be happier.

My playwright collaborators and I put together a reading for Testament of Will that renewed my interest in the project and helped to illuminate the direction we want to go with it. So, that was invaluable... and just kinda awesome, 'cuz our actors rocked it out. Now we just need to replace about half of the exposition with humor and compelling shit. No pressure. Done by Christmas. Eep!

We drove out to West Palm for Thanksgiving at Rhonda's (with about 40+ people) and I think I slept for the next two days straight. We'll call it an extreme food coma. I barely remember the drive home, but I know it happened 'cuz there are still leftovers in my fridge.

I've gotten some bites on packets I sent to local talent agencies on this side of the state, so I'm hoping to finally start setting down some roots in Flurrrida before I have to leave again. It'll be good to finally dip my toes in the market here after a year of feeling like I'm on vacation. (*Snap out of it, Andi. You live here. Stop gawking and get some work done!*)

I'm also starting to put together writing samples for a portfolio since there are so many free-lance jobs around here... and Mama needs some extra money for the pantry. (Not to mention Christmas. Holy crap, it's so close already!)

So here it is... already December. The last page of the calendar... another year marked off one day at a time. And no clue what the year ahead will hold for me. One thing I can guarantee... it'll be unpredictable.
Hopefully I'll remember most of it.
Unlike November.

Seriously. What just happened?

Life on the road - Homecomings

There are many positive and negative aspects to doing regional theatre, many funny and poignant anecdotes... but today, we're going to focus on travel.

I'm 'out of state' several times a year now... sometimes for a few days to hit auditions, sometimes for weeks or months at a time for rehearsals and productions. I love to travel. I love to fly. I love road trips. I love to explore new places. I love the adventure. I love falling in love with towns I never thought about (like Savannah, GA) or places I never imagined I'd have a chance to see (like Maui). And even though I'm a sucker for jet-setting, I get homesick very easily.
By day two, I miss my family, my animals, and my 'routine' at home. By week two, I miss my kitchen and my creature comforts - my artsy projects and half of my 'technical equipment' that wasn't worth the luggage or shipping fees to bring along.

The silver lining in all the misery of separation anxiety and whisking cake batter with a wooden spoon from 1990 is the long-awaited and much anticipated homecoming.
After spending last week in Lancaster, PA, I was missing home and musing with my soon-to-be-castmates about their time away from their loved ones, the beauty of Skype and technology that keeps us all connected, and the strength and support we get from our 'anchors'. There is no mistaking the energy backstage on the closing day of a show. There is usually a bit of sadness and reluctance to leave our new family, and a ton of sheer, ants-in-the-pants excitement and joy towards reuniting with our old one.

My homecomings have begun to follow their own formulaic routine as of late... Beginning with my New York pace from the jetway to the 'arrivals' gate outside... while the other 15 people in the airport meander about (7 of which are TSA or flight crew). Happy reunion with J, who is all choked up.... because he's no longer responsible for 100% of the household chores - and can finally catch up on all the shows he wasn't allowed to watch without me.
Happy reunion with Roxanne (my dog) who apparently (hop, hop) thought I was dead (hop) and might not ever return (hop, hop, hop) to rub her belly again (hop) and really needs to figure out why my feet smell strange, (hop) but mostly the belly thing (hop, hop, circle-sprint, collapse, roll).
Two of the cats come out to see what the commotion is and stop to sample the new scratching post by the front door - the one that looks exactly like my suitcase. They leave, unimpressed.
I take my suitcase into the bedroom, give J the condensed version of every little detail of my flight, followed by the highlights of my time away as I pour a glass of wine and throw out dinner suggestions. We settle on ordering take-out Chinese so we can play the new Diablo 3 together and then watch Key & Peele. I decide that unpacking and laundry can wait until tomorrow.
I unsuccessfully try to coax Sparky onto my lap. (He's my familiar - and my favorite - but don't tell the others.) He's mad at me for leaving, so I'm getting the silent treatment as he pretends not to see me.
Waking up the next morning - in my own bed - there's a spring in my step as I convert the patio table into my workspace for the day and watch the squirrels and blue jays fight for the treats I've left outside the back door. Sparky jumps up onto my lap - purring - and all is once again right in my world...
...20 minutes later when I go to unpack my suitcase - I find that he has pissed on it.

Welcome Home.

Happy Anniversary!

I kinda blew by an important milestone without celebrating it properly, so here's some recognition.

First, this is the first year of many many years that I did not call my mother or send my father an email wishing them a 'Happy Anniversary' at the end of August. (Even though they've been divorced for over 20 years now.) I've always taken some twisted pleasure in being the 'catalyst baby' - which means I take partial credit for their decision to marry and the existence of my three brothers. The tongue-in-cheek celebration was as much about their decision to raise me together as it was about another year of adulthood in which I got to skate by as the artsy-fartsy, 'black sheep, hippie bastard love-child.
Both of my parents are now remarried to partners that make them infinitely more happy than they were together, so it seems a little mean-spirited to wish them a happy (failed) anniversary... but I still celebrate it privately in my heart. :)

Second, and more significant, is my one-year anniversary of moving to Florida.
HOORAY!

There have been ups and downs, but mostly 'ups'... and while I miss the hell out of my friends and family, I couldn't be happier about where I am right now.
The hardest transition has been the distance from my kids. It's unnerving to be this far away, and yet... they're both in college and venturing into their own adult lives, so I'd be doing a lot of knitting and worrying and missing them - no matter where my location.
I'm immensely thankful for technology (if my infuriating son would ever use it) and I'm thankful for the UPS store being so close and giving me the corporate discount for care packages shipped across the country.
I've learned that jellyfish stings feel just like bee stings and that my eyes are really sensitive to saltwater. I've learned that racoons and possums are nuts for cat food, but that the squirrels are partial to my burnt croissants. I learned that sometimes you get really lucky with awesome neighbors if you just put yourself out there and say 'Hi'. I also learned to screen potential roommates with a bit more caution.

After living in AZ all of my life, I knew it would be a while before this desert rat transitioned into a tropical beach bum. However, Florida does share some similarities with my home state that make me feel comfortable and acclimated. There is a 'winter visitor' season here just like there is back home. People out here also drive like D-bags, get a little stir-crazy during the summer, and the politics are just as shady. 'Monsoon season' is the same time of year, but it's 'Tropical Storm Season' here and it rains almost daily for at least an hour.

I had some specific goals set for my first year out here. And I didn't meet all of my goals, I accomplished a few things that were absolute surprises for me.
I have yet to do a 'bona fide' show in Florida, but I've hit a handful of auditions and at least started to stick my toe in the water of the theatre community out here. I went back to AZ to do a production in the Fall and left again in the Spring to do a show in Little Rock - which to me, is the best of ALL worlds!
My focus has shifted a bit to writing - a big surprise, but a pleasant one - an outlet that I've always used personally, but never publicly. With that shift came my registration for the tutor program with the Sarasota Literacy Council, and a few other projects that made the list of goals for my second year here in Florida.
I haven't been to New York since the Spring, which speaks to my level of 'nesting'... I haven't had the gypsy urge to go people-watching and free-hugging in Times Square or hit the nearest port-of-call for cruise line auditions, which is odd. I typically get those urges on a weekly basis. I think that means I'm content here. For how long, who knows? But I'm thankful. Very thankful.
And especially to those who helped me get here... friends and family that helped me along the way - either financially or with encouragement and moral support - I can't thank you enough.

Happy Anniversary.

When Society gives us a fish... we make sushi.

"If every crisis is an opportunity, then artists are facing the opportunity of a lifetime." - Kerry Lengel

A journalist/theatre critic in my hometown has started a great debate about the state of the arts – both locally and on a broader scale. The debate is one that is controversial among artists and non-artists alike, and one that I have some pretty strong opinions about. So, of course I'll weigh in via my blog. 'Cuz that's how I roll.

Lengel writes, “Across the arts-and-culture sector, virtually every organization, large and small, has had to slash spending... after dozens of conversations with arts executives and industry watchers, I have come to see a strange sort of silver lining in this existential crisis. The Great Recession has done more than force arts groups to re-examine their business models, it is also forcing them to face the hardest truth of all: Society doesn’t owe you anything.”

From a personal standpoint, I kinda agree with that hard truth. The choice of wording is a little assumptive, but I understand the message.
Essentially, it IS up to the writers to write the right rites (sorry, had to) and up to the directors to innovate and improve. It is up to the actors to engage and inspire and the marketers to market and the costumers to costume and for everyone to do what they do best – which is why I assume we're all here in the first place. No one expects to throw crap on a stage and attract funding or an audience (except Honey Boo-Boo and the Kardashians).

Society doesn't owe it to us at all.
Society owes it to themselves.

Without art, we lose connection with something that is bigger than ourselves. Without the arts, we lose what is the best (and worst) part of being human – our ability to create and surprise and inspire... to move and be moved. To transcend and participate in something beyond our inconsequential mortal fictions.

Mr. Lengel inspired much debate with his words. He moved people – either affecting them positively or negatively – and perhaps even a few heartrates increased as passionate debate stirred within. In my book, that makes Mr. Lengel an artist himself. And thus, his responsibility is no less than mine to use his gifts to inspire the community to support it's own artistic voice. He sparked debate. Love it or hate it, he was successful in stirring up something within a community that was worth the dialogue.

Art is collaborative. It requires the artist to feed the community as much as it requires the community to feed the artist. In harmony, it is self-sustaining. In disharmony, it is cynical and apathetic.
On a practical level alone, it is proven that communities that support and encourage the arts see significant drops in crime, truancy and teen pregnancy among their youth. The arts have been used to promote literacy, recreate history, educate, engage and inspire since the beginning of man. Clinton played the sax. Obama sings. DaVinci, Edison, Einstein, Tesla, Graham-Bell - all scientific and technological innovators. 
And artists and poets and musicians.

The same innovation and creativity required to create remarkable works of art is the same innovation and creativity required to find success in business or to forward technology and industry. These qualities are evolutionary and revolutionary and should NEVER be suppressed.

Society owes it to themselves.

Artists are creation machines. And there is much to be learned when we can turn that mirror in on itself and lend a voice to the arts-and-culture representations of our communities... our 'society'.

We are failing because we (as a 'society') have put an emphasis on production rather than creation; buying into the notion that we are valuable based on the quantity, the quality, and under which oppressive circumstances we can sustain or increase what we produce.

We are slipping into an age where we treasure consumerism over creation, productivity over inspiration, and pragmatism over passion – threatening the existence of our collective intangible human soul. 

But arts groups aren't failing everywhere. There are organizations (and communities) that are thriving. 

Predecessors passing the torch to the next generation of visionaries – and those who have toiled through years of up and down experiences, fashioning new legacies to be passed along to their successors. Thriving.

Why? Because they feed their community – outreach programs, collaborative productions, unconventional locales, innovative settings, controversial content, celebrity box office billings – and in return, their community feeds them. Neither side is apathetic. Both are passionate, excited, and anticipating 'the next big thing' they will create together. It is self-sustaining. And self-destructive. When one side fails, both sides fail.

'Society' is responsible for supporting and continuing the arts in their own communities and artists must create that which is worth preserving.

It is not enough to make art. We must make good art.

And we must be a reminder to our communities that art is essential – if nothing else, to touch base with our own imaginations rather than the touch screen of our latest app.

When was the last time you hooted and clapped and guffawed out loud? When was the last time someone's poetic words moved you to tears? When was the last time you stopped and marveled at the beauty around you? When was the last time you hummed a tune? Or doodled in your note pad? That is the byproduct of art. The ability to relate to another person - most likely a stranger to you - and their concepts or theories or feelings or notions is the beauty and wonder and marvel of the human condition. Other side effects of art include: inspiration, motivation, joy, surprise, alarm, laughter, tears, guffaws, victorious cries, breathless sighs, snickers (available at concessions), intrigue, adaptability, dialogue, debate, connection, imagination...

Society doesn't owe me anything. I'm an artist. A creation machine. I began early, and I will continue to create as long as I have a pulse.

Society owes it to themselves to encourage, promote, preserve, maintain and participate in the arts; because we are all artists.We're all responsible. 

We're all creation machines.

We all need to be.

Or our 'society' is doomed.

Profanely Indecent De-Friending

I lost a Facebook friend today.

Truth is, I don't pay attention to the number of friends I have. And being in the industry I'm in, friends come and go with the ebb and tide of the theatre season... or a political term... or a wave of gossip. I don't usually take it personally. We binge and purge depending on where we are in our lives and what kind of validation or entertainment we seek.

Then there are those that seek to teach a lesson when they go. The friends that don't slip silently away from your newsfeed with a click of a button, but announce loudly, "I'm leaving and here's why!" That's what happened today. This 'de-friending' was only significant because it was both a family member and a lesson-giver.

"Andi - I just wanted to explain why I am taking you off of my Friends list. I do not appreciate some of your vulgar language or some of the raunchy things you have posted. I still love you as family, but I can nor condone your actions or behavior and just wanted you to understand. I will continue to pray for you."

Now, this isn't the first time I've been admonished by a friend or family member for my outrageously smutty or crude behavior. But as always, I feel like I have to ask, "Do you KNOW me?" I gave up shame for Lent some time ago and I haven't been the same since. So, let me discuss...

First of all, can we stop pretending that Facebook connections are equivalent to condoning someone's actions or behavior? They're not. I've got plenty of friends that participate in practices that I'm not particularly keen on (like butt-sex). Not only do I NOTbelieve that our cyberfriendship gives me the right to comment on (or stands to symbolize my validation of) their butt-sex, but I don't believe that any of them NEED my validation to continue having butt-sex ...or post reference to it on their profiles as often as they'd like. Thus, I am also not asking anyone to condone my cyber behavior.

Second, I don't filter my posts. If you're on my friends list, you're seeing EVERYTHING I post. I don't feel the need, nor do I have the time to separate friends from family, conservatives from liberals, theatre peeps from civilians, former students from former teachers, etc. I post what I post and say what I say and everyone gets to see it the same as everyone else. My parents, my kids, my friends, my ex-boyfriends, my frenemies... all treated to the same verbal vomit and self-promotion that I find relevant and post-worthy. Do I think everyone will agree and relate with what I post? No. My friends are much too diverse. Some will 'like' it, some will hate it, some won't see it because they hid me from their newsfeed long ago. That's the beauty of using your own features for you. You don't have to see what you don't want to. Unless it's an ad. Then you're just screwed. Then again (and this is where I do agree with him) the easier way to filter your newsfeed is to simply remove anyone that doesn't think and feel exactly the way you do. One of the basic tenets of Christ, I presume to be among the lost 11th-15th commandments. Ghandi said "Happiness is when what you think, what you say and what you do are all in harmony." I am happy.

Third, if you find me raunchy, vulgar and offensive online - enough to cut ties with me - then it's probably in our mutual best interest. In the past month, I've posted references to poop, dicks, assholes, pin-up girls, 80's pop trivia, epic fails, skinny bitches, shark teeth, nude beaches, drinks with friends, funny tampon commercials, support of gay marriage and kids going off to college. Oh, and Amanda Palmer singing in the nude. None of which I find obscene, smutty, lewd, crude, or profanely indecent. Believe it or not, I actually do censor what I post online. So you can imagine how raunchy and vulgar my life really is! Full of foul language and inappropriate behavior, lewd and provocative dress, sex, lies, scandal, racism, sexism, fascism, polyamorism... whatever - you name it, I've lived it. Lived it for the adventure, the experience, the perspective and the human connection. And I love and cherish every single crude moment of it.

I find merit in Amanda Palmer's nude response to The Daily Mail. I find humor in the tampon commercial and Wil Wheaton's 'Don't be a Dick' Day. I find relevance and satire in friends musing online about the 'Real Housewives of Whoretown". I am liberated and unoffended. I do not have a sensitive constitution. I do not believe that the world should be made up of people who think and feel and behave and create the same way. THAT, to me, is an offensive thought. And if I'm offensive, how does one conduct oneself in the 'secular world'? If I'm that nasty, then you must not have basic cable.
And so my response was,


"Dear  _____, I'm sorry you feel the way you do, but I do understand. Your judgment and condemnation is not the first I've encountered. But I do not need anyone to condone or validate the blessed life I live. My raunch and vulgarity are parts of what make me a successful actress, writer, and comedienne. I don't believe that one of the tenets of Christ was to remove people from our lives who think, feel or behave differently, but I respect your decision to do so. Just because we are family does not mean we have to be 'friends'. I do not particularly agree with the views you express or the behavior you display, but I simply hid you from my news feed long ago. I'm sure there are others that deserve and need your prayers much more than I. Please breathe a sigh of relief and rest assured that my salvation is not in your hands. I personally release you from any responsibility or connection to me and my immortal soul. I hope that you can once again enjoy your newsfeed without my invasive offense. Sincerely, Andi"

One less online 'friend', and yet I feel oddly liberated that there is one less person watching my newsfeed for content to judge and condemn. It's also one less notification about today's bible verse or the movement to squelch the rights of others in the name of Christianity. Ghandi also said "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. They are so unlike your Christ." (I think Ghandi may have met my great-uncle.) He also said that no one can hurt you without your permission. I also believe that to be true. There can be many perceived offenses in my life that I could allow to hurt - offenses that would cut off familial relationships or long-worn friendships. I choose stronger attributes instead - like love, tolerance, forgiveness, faith and loyalty. 
Or I just hit the 'unfriend' button and walk away - because it is not my place to judge intentions nor to teach lessons. I'll leave that to the elite chosen few. 

While you cannot choose your family, you can choose your Facebook friends... and sometimes that's way better in the long run.
And on that note, I'm off to live my smutty, morally crude life doing what I love and thanking my higher power for the abundance and joy I experience every day. 

 

I have a blog?!

Me (the actress) and Me (the writer) are in a big fight. BIG. 

It has been going on all week.

I'm anxious to get my foot in the door with the local theatre scene here in FL, so I've been trying to focus on auditions here in between my travels and adventures. Being the 'new kid' in any theatre community can be tough - and there is no equivalent to a Laura Durant in the sunshine state - so it requires some extra vigilance and networking on my part. Something that my writer-self has no patience for.

I'm working on four projects right now. A novel, two plays, and a musical adaptation. Yes, I'm an unfocused Pisces and I overwhelm myself with many creative ventures at once. That's just how I roll. Two of my written projects are collaborations, which takes some pressure off. And all of them have a different feel, energy, content, etc... So it lends itself well to my daily moods. Feeling cheeky? We work on the comedy or the musical. Feeling research-y? We work on the historical piece. Feeling evasive and calculating? We work on the novel. It's not the best system in the world, but it works.

Both worlds collided when I started writing up my business plan and starter materials for TMC, LLC.

I'm not very good at mixing art with business. I'm the person that people hire when they need a creative, passionate, driven, hungry artist. People do not hire me for my business sense. I can crunch numbers when I have to, but it kills my soul little decimal points at a time.

Anyhow, all this business mumbo-jumbo has resulted in writer's block. Oh, and I forgot I had a blog.

To summarize the past two months, I did 'Death of a Salesman' out at Arkansas Rep. It was a great show with amazing artists and I had a blast! Came back to FL and did FPTAs (with a couple of my gal pals who flew/drove out for 'em) then flew back to AZ for my baby girl's graduation and am now back in FL, debating auditions in Ft. Myers & St. Pete's this month, callbacks in Orlando next month, and a possible trip back to NY for auditions in mid-July. (The writer within is railing against all this actor-y nonsense, claiming that we have too much work to do.)

In the meantime, Hello blog! It's nice to see you again! Hopefully my pansy, fragile little writer ego will settle its ass down and pop over once in a while to say 'hi'.

It's not you, it's me.

The Equality Blog

In 1948, a speech was given by Alben Barkley quoting Thomas Jefferson,
"He did not proclaim that all the white, or the black, or the red, or the yellow men are equal; that all Christian or Jewish men are equal; that all Protestant and Catholic men are equal; that all rich and poor men are equal; that all good and bad men are equal. What he declared was that all men are equal; and the equality which he proclaimed was the equality in the right to enjoy the blessings of free government in which they may participate and to which they have given their support."

Truman said, "We believe that all men are entitled to equal opportunities for jobs, for homes, for good health and for education. We believe that all men should have a voice in their government and that government should protect, not usurp, the rights of the people."

Currently, the gay community is without rights. They are usurped. An entire community denied the right to marry by its own government. And I'm shocked that there is still debate among ourselves when the onus should be on our government to defend such a heinous miscarriage of both justice and liberty to its people.

We are good at labeling each other. We judge and categorize so that we can determine who should be included or excluded from our lives - based on compatibility, relation, "common interests".
Are you a believer? Do you have kids? Where'd you go to college? What was your major? Where DID you get those shoes?! Are you on Grindr? Facebook? Match.com? Alpha Beta Kappa Dappa Poopty Doo!

When I started my elementary education, I remember learning about two basic parties - Democrats and Republicans. (My daddy said we were the latter.)
Now there are liberals and conservatives and progressives and tea-bags and the Republic of the Flying Spaghetti Monster for cryin' out loud!
And I deal with it in my industry as well. Are you a triple-threat? No? Cut. Ages 35-45?  Yes? Stay. 5'5"-5'9". Stay. Caucasians can go. Women, stay. Divas, go.

In our efforts to specify which group we belong to and separate ourselves from those we don't, we've sub-categorized and factioned ourselves to death. We ostracize and denounce, validate and advocate until there's a very small subset that we can call 'my people'.
Sometimes merely based on 'beliefs'.

Some people believe that onions taste great. I believe they are the devil's fruit. I hate them. But I have enough common sense not to hate the person who believes they're awesome. In fact, I might spend a dozen years in an intimate relationship with an onion-loving freak!

I don't believe that onion lovers have the right to impose on my onion-free existence just because an archaic book of proverbs and parables says that onions are fantastic and clear out your arteries. And I'll fight like a she-devil if anyone tries to hold me down and forcibly put them in my mouth!
I feel just as vehemently about anyone else being forced to eat onions... Or being denied the right to.

Because I'm on team 'people'.

Not just my people or your people, but ALL people.
And the rights of the people must be protected, not usurped.

R. Kelly believes he can fly.
Whitney Houston believes in you and me.
And The Darkness believes in a thing called love.
I believe in equality.

And Team People.

And life without onions.

Thankful!!

I can't believe I haven't updated my blog in so long!!

I got settled into my new home in Florida... just in time to come back to AZ to work a 7-week contract. I extended my return ticket so that I could stay in town for Thanksgiving, but I go back to FL on Monday.

It was a whirlwind visit... and I didn't realize I'd be as busy as I was. I didn't get nearly enough time with family and my daughter is quite peeved as a result. But I'm thankful for every stolen moment I have with them and can't wait to have them out for a visit in December.

Two of my three brothers were there with their respective broods and it was nostalgic to have all the kids gathered at the 'kiddie table'... like we once were.

Carving the turkey with my mom, teasing my sister-in-law for braving Black Friday, bantering with GGma (who might possibly think I'm a lesbian), and generally enjoying what may be my last holiday in AZ for who knows how long...

I'm thankful to have a job that brought me back to AZ for this holiday. Thankful that my kids will both be out to visit in less than a month. Thankful that I have an adorable apartment just begging to be decorated for Christmas...

I'm excited for the prospects that are around the corner and though it's always hard to leave my ol' home, I'm thankful to be going to my new one.

2200 Miles Across the Sea... An Odyssey

It began on Monday morning... at about 6am...

Ann and I loaded up the rest of our belongings into my Jeep Cherokee, transported two cats into their traveling cage and set off for a 2200 mile journey across the country – towing everything I own in a 6x12 trailer.

We made it 20 minutes from Tucson when the gaff tape securing the front end of my Jeep came loose and began flapping in the wind. We pulled over to reaffix the tape when we heard a torrential downpour coming from the underside of the vehicle. Alas, it was raining coolant. Everywhere. The entire undercarriage was dripping with the green stuff. After a quick call to Jason and to my mechanic, I was reassured that I had merely overfilled the reservoir and as the Jeep heated up, would have to purge somewhere...

We drove into Tucson for our first fuel stop – no raining undercarriage – and decided that all was well.

We realized we had a problem about 20 minutes later... somewhere around mile marker 290. My temp guage started to spike and my RPMs were running really high on some of the smaller hills... and having seized an engine once before, I knew I wanted to get off the road before I did permanent damage.

We pulled over at mile marker 295, called AAA and waited for our tow. And since we were two girls traveling with two cats and stranded in the middle of the desert, we were put on 'priority' status – meaning someone would be there within 30 minutes.

An hour and ten minutes later, “Big Dave” arrived.

The first words out of Big Dave's mouth were, “Didn't anyone tell you you're overloaded?!!”

Umm.... no?

Big Dave proceeds to tell us that he can tell just by looking at how low the Jeep is sitting that she's hauling more than she can tow. I tell him that she sits that low with the trailer empty. He says he's not surprised and that if the guys installing my hitch didn't catch it, the guy who popped the trailer on the back of my Jeep should have.

Great.

So, he pulls the Jeep up on the back of his truck, hitches up the trailer and tows us (and the cats) to his garage in Benson, Arizona.

It's now crawling up on 11:30am Monday.

They run diagnostics on the Jeep and decide that she's fine... but there's no way she'll haul our load all the way to Florida. Time to improvise.

We call U-Haul and they offer to transfer our contract over to a 10-foot box truck with a tow dolly on the back for the Jeep. So, at 3pm in 112-degree heat, we transfer all of my belongings from the trailer into the box truck with nary an inch to spare. (With special thanks to our new friend, Matthew – a truck driver waiting for a repair at the same shop – who was enthralled by our cats and happy to have audience for his 'cwazy stowies'.) The cats have to give up their spacious crate for a single cat-carrier that will fit between the bucket seats in the cab of the truck, but it looks like we're all going to fit.

The mechanic disconnects my drive line and hooks the Jeep up to the tow dolly and we close down the shop at 5:30 after paying $350 for the tow, diagnostic, and drive line disconnect... and another $1900 for the new U-Haul contract. (I didn't actually get a receipt or contract for this new set-up and was told the $1900. was only for the tow dolly... this will be important information later.)

After a quick stop at Wendy's to pee and get situated, we were back on our way by 6:30pm. A 7-hour delay in Benson, Arizona was enough to take the wind out of my sails without the added $2000+ expense... but we were determined.

We drove until we hit Las Cruces, New Mexico.

We hit a rest stop around midnight that overlooked the city lights and caught a 4-hour nap. As the sun was beginning to light the horizon at 4:30am, we drove to meet it... dreading the day ahead of us.

My timeline gets fuzzy around this part because there was no change in landscape between Arizona and Texas, but we crossed the state line somewhere around 8 or 9 in the morning (Texas time?). I knew going in that this would be the longest, most tedious stretch of the drive. And it was.

We crossed into Texas at the Mexico border and drove right into the Wild Wild West.

Federales, Border Patrol, Dogs... several miles of high fences and SUV's parked on their not-so-grassy knolls watching the south... we held our breath as they asked us to state our citizenship. I stammered... as it's not a typical question I get... and said “Here?” (Blank stares.) “OH! America!! I'm an American citizen!”

They waved us through while Ann was still rolling her eyes and giggling at me.

An entire day of Texas... Texas... nothing but Texas... Everything is NOT bigger in Texas. It's mostly the same size. Except their speed limits are slightly higher - which would have been cool had we not been in a 10-foot box truck towing a Jeep Cherokee and only capable of going about 60-65MPH. Even that speed had Ann screaming “SLOW DOWN” at regular intervals, so.. thanks for the thought, Texas.

Ann took a shift behind the wheel later in the day which had her going through Houston during rush hour traffic – an ordeal that required a stop afterward so we could both change our soiled underclothes.

The landscape changed very suddenly when we got into eastern Texas. The desert virtually disappears with a monolithic cityscape, which then dissolves into trees and rolling plains.

Now, Texas wasn't horrible... it's just a HUGE state and much of the drive is tedious (and contrary to common belief that the drive is straight and flat, it's got some frequent hills and valleys.) So, it only added to the general state of panic to discover that Wells Fargo had frozen my debit card (after having been used at only gas stations from south AZ to Texas) and the $2000+ from 'Big Dave's Towing and Auto' had maxed me to my limit on those funds. I had a four-hour stretch in Texas where I was genuinely and sincerely concerned that we were going to be stranded in the middle of the country without any gas money to get us to our destination. I was seriously sunk.

Until Jason saved the day from all the way back in AZ – after having sold some of the items I left back home, he went above and beyond to make sure I could have access to those funds (even cancelling his own birthday dinner to make it happen.) It worked out that funds became available mere minutes before we'd have to stop for gas.

We had some serious guardian angels hooking us up along the way.

And so we crossed into Louisiana territory sometime in the dead of night and began the harrowing experience of navigating the bayou.

I will add here that Louisiana was the ONE state we were both looking forward to seeing. Of course it was just our luck that we'd drive through in the dead of night.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I discovered (the hard way) that Louisiana has the worst roads ever. EVER. Two slender lanes of highway traffic were hugged on either side by cement barricades and the only other vehicles on the road were ginormous trucks captained by sleepy drivers. We were run off of the road by one such driver... who, in an attempt to pass us, never quite made it all the way over to the left lane and started drifting back almost immediately. I pulled over once he got within inches of my rearview mirror and we sat on the shoulder for a second – shaking and breathing and willing our heart rates to return to normal. We watched him bob and weave his way through about the next 60 miles before we lost him. Scariest moments of my life so far... driving in Louisiana at night. Not cool. Not cool at all.

There was a stretch of road between Louisiana and Mississippi that was particularly bumpy and I swore I saw two cars swerve out of the way behind me... we stopped to check that the back of the Jeep hadn't popped open and after satisfying our curiosity that nothing was amiss, we continued.

At the Mississippi state line (and after 26 hours straight since New Mexico) we hit a rest stop for another nap around 6am... this one lasted only about an hour. I woke up realizing we'd been boxed in on either side by huge semi trucks and were breathing in the most toxic fumes I've ever inhaled in my life (and I've inhaled a LOT of toxic fumes!) After a cowgirl shower in the rest stop bathroom, we continued on – ignoring the slight headache and the stench burned into my nostrils.

Mississippi and Alabama were a bit of a bleary-eyed blur – I saw my first water in the form of a bay entering Alabama and I cried. But as soon as we entered those states, we seemed to be on our way out of them.

We crossed the state line into Florida – elated – and got pulled over within about 5-10 minutes.

Why?

Apparently I missed the sign for the Agricultural Inspection Station. I thought it was just another weigh-station for the commercial trucks, but there's a little addendum that says “All Rental Vehicles” are required to stop. To skip it is a ticket, $180. fine and a Class II Misdemeanor on your license.

Oops.

After my “I didn't see it and I'm new here” speech, the cop had me unlock the back of the truck so he could peek and made me promise not to miss the next one. I had my speech all prepared when we drove up to the perplexed looking inspector.

“Coming from Phoenix to Sarasota. Two domestic cats, no fruits or vegetables, no live plants.”

We were waved through without a second glance.

Jacksonville teased me for hours. I saw a sign that said 279 miles to Jacksonville. After driving for at least an hour and a half, I saw another sign that said 282 miles to Jacksonville. I'm not kidding you. It's like being stuck in the Twilight Zone. The more you drive, the further away you get from your destination. I was cursing Jacksonville at regular intervals.

We finally arrived in Tampa and celebrated with more gas and some food before hitting the last hourlong stretch.

We arrived at our apartment somewhere around 10:30/11pm and I promptly had a breakdown in the parking lot of 'Barnacle Bills' (across from my complex) where we parked the U-Haul and the Jeep.

Part of my emotional collapse was having been through the ordeal of driving for three days (with a 7-hour delay and truck transfer in Benson, AZ) with the cats and all of the other minor setbacks. Part of it was the relief that we finally made it here. Part of it was arriving road-weary and emotionally spent and having no one on my destination end to hold me and tell me everything was going to be ok.

Yup. I'm still a needy little princess, aren't I?

But hey, I drove 2200 miles across the country under less than stellar circumstances and got all of my stuff here intact. Humans and animals included!

I mean, it's no huge accomplishment. People used to make that same journey in covered wagons and shit, so who am I to crow?

But man, do I feel like a beast!!!

We had another slight hiccup when we returned the truck to U-Haul only to discover that when they disconnected my drive line, they didn't secure my drive shaft properly. We believe it fell out somewhere on that bumpy road to love between Louisiana and Alabama – and that's why I saw cars swerve. It apparently bounced off of my gas tank and escaped the undercarriage without doing any major damage... but my first few days in Sarasota were spent tracking down a new drive shaft, a U-joint, and now a mechanic that can replace all the transmission fluid that was lost. Awesome!

All told, U-Haul made $2886. off of us this move (and we're fighting for credit back, since the first contract for the hitch and trailer only lasted two days before we had to change it up) and cost me an additonal $500 in repairs to the Jeep (which I've also claimed against their insurance). Not to mention the fact that we were supposed to get credit on the second contract and 'Big Dave' made it sound like we did, but paid through the nose for the dolly instead... not so much. Shady people, shady business.

Expensive? Yes.

Will I ever move with U-Haul again? Not in a million years.

Am I glad to be “home”?

Boy, you'd better believe it!!!

CYA, C-F-A, IMHO...

Marriage.
Marriage is what brings us together today. Love. True Love.
And ignorance.
And fear.
And intolerance.

I'm tired of the Chick-Fil-A argument and I've seen a good amount of political rhetoric from both sides, but no one is changing anyone's mind here.

My own family is divided over this issue - and we are a stalwart, passionate family - so the 'Chick-Fil-A' controversy is not one we've discussed very openly. (Though my daughter and I have had some fierce debates, we're on the same side with this one.)

So, here are my thoughts in a nutshell... or rather... fried in peanut oil to a delicious crisp.

1.) The 'First Amendment' issue.
The First Amendment protects free speech as it relates to government intervention. Our government can't (or rather, isn't supposed to) infringe on your right to speak your mind. It does NOT, however, protect you from criticism or offense from your peers. It doesn't protect you from accusations of slander or bigotry. It's not a blanket amendment that says you can spew vitriol from the rooftops without repercussion. The government will not interfere - but the closest 100 people who don't like what you have to say have the right to voice their opinions as well. And some may not do it in a civilized manner. You take the risk that they won't break the law and break your face in response.
And so, Mr. Cathy and his Chick Fellators have every right to say "We advocate traditional marriage and we support companies and organizations that advocate the same."
And everyone else has the right to say, "That's gay." ...or not.

So far, I have yet to see where anyone's First Amendment rights have been stripped away or compromised. Everyone is still talking. You don't have to like it. But you can say it. All the live-long day.
See how civilized it all really is?
Read up on the constitution people... and read it like you're reading copy from an audition for West Wing or LA Law by Shakespeare. Those words were chosen for a purpose. It's important to pay as much attention to what is said as what is not.

2.) The 'marriage' issue.
I've been married. Twice.
The first time... the marriage meant more to my family than it did to me. My grandparents begged me to marry my 'baby daddy' with more fervor than he did when he actually proposed. They didn't want to be the "great-grandparents of a bastard". No concern about what kind of relationship I might actually have with my on-again/off-again boyfriend - more important was to present a picture to the public that said we were a 'wholesome, traditional family'. Needless to say, that marriage was a sham... two kids playing house... and despite our best efforts to make it work, we divorced within 3 years.
This whole controversy starts to unravel when you consider the backbone of their conviction. Marriage is not a 'Christian' institution. Marriage was not designed by God. It was created by man. A 'traditional' marriage changes based on your geographic location. Americans have a much different idea of traditional marriage than what is commonplace in Israel, Asia, Europe, and tribal communities.
Marriage was initially created (we believe, because these unions predate recorded history in some cases) as a way to claim sexual exclusivity, protect lineage and bloodlines, and to determine the inheritance of possessions and land. Is that really what everyone is fighting to protect as God's 'sacred and holy' institution? I guess I don't get it.

I understand if conservative Christians want to balk at the idea of gay marriage and take a NIMB stance - hell, I can't get married in a Mormon Temple or a Catholic church without jumping through some hoops, so I get that... I don't list those places on my list of potential wedding venues. But the Mormon church isn't telling me that I can't get married on a cruise ship or in the Grand Ballroom of the Hilton because I don't follow their 'traditional' values. I've had no Jews deny my womanhood because I never went through a bat mizvah. So, I don't understand the mentality of any group or person saying to ANY individual "You can't do this thing I believe in 'cuz you do it differently."
To be an individual is the hardest thing in the world, because nobody likes you to be an individual. We like to make sheep of one another and relegate each other to our respective 'flocks'.

I think it's wonderful and glorious and romantic that there are people out there who aren't bitter and disillusioned like I am - people who still believe in finding that one true love for life and spend thousands of dollars celebrating their love and making it all public and forever-like. It's beautiful and I wouldn't dare deny that to anyone. ANYONE. You have your traditions. I have mine. Nothing says they have to be the same in order for me to respect and admire you. Period.

3.) The Dan Cathy issue. “We are very much supportive of the family — the biblical definition of the family unit. We are a family-owned business, a family-led business, and we are married to our first wives. We give God thanks for that.”
I'm glad Dan Cathy found what works for him. I think it's important to believe in something bigger and greater than ourselves. Whether it's religion or spirituality or community or whatever - he has every right to support the biblical family unit. He can support the Shakespearean family unit. He can support the Oedipal family unit. None of which comes without criticism from someone somewhere. I don't take issue with what Mr. Cathy does or doesn't believe in or support. I don't even take issue with the fact that he spends millions of dollars to support organizations that are dedicated to criminalizing homosexuality. I would feel the same way if I knew he was working towards criminalizing dancing. I'd still think he was an idiot of a businessman.

"We’re inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at him and say we know better than you as to what constitutes a marriage. And I pray God’s mercy on our generation that has such a prideful, arrogant attitude that thinks we have the audacity to redefine what marriage is all about."

I don't think Mr. Cathy is aware of what constitutes a marriage. I'm not even talking about the archaic Leviticus talk of the Old Testament kind of marriage - I'm talking about what people have done for centuries. How is Dan Cathy not shaking his fist at God and saying he knows better than Him what constitutes a marriage? God did not define marriage as Dan Cathy does. Nowhere in the bible did he define it that way. Show me the scripture and I'll show you passages that directly contradict Mr. Cathy's lifestyle. It just doesn't work to say ANY of us know better and it's counter-intuitive to say anyone has the "audacity" to redefine something that has been constantly evolving and redefining itself with every culture and generation.

Having been raised in the church, I remember the push to evangelize and convert and recruit and become "fishers of men". It wasn't enough to believe... success as a Christian is directly related to your ability to "save" others. It's not a mutually-tolerant religion. Anyone who doesn't believe in my God the way I do is going to hell. Plain and simple. Black and white. If you love someone... save them from eternal damnation.


"Love with eyes knows when to say no, when to say yes. Love neither interferes in anybody's life nor allows anybody else to interfere into one's own life. Love gives individuality to others, but does not lose its own individuality." That's what I believe.


No matter how much we may be able to identify and strive towards our own happiness, there will always be someone else saying, "That's not the right way."

It will take time. It will take tears. It will take tenacity and grief and heartbreak. It will take a generation of children raised by two moms or two dads to affect the lobbyists and lawmakers, but it's happening. Slowly... gradually... the evolution of the 'nuclear family' has already overtaken yesteryear's traditions and rituals. I only hope the evolution of Christianity can keep up.

Let them pity and protest and "pray the gay away". Let them make ignorant statements and ridiculous investments. I know that a great majority of my friends and family were nowhere near Chick-Fil-A yesterday. Some, out of protest... some out of health... and some out of apathy.
For those that did go... Well... I guess I pity them.


I'm sad for them. I'm sad that they think their dollars are best spent supporting organizations devoted to stripping away the rights of others. I pray that their eyes and minds will be open to all of the places in those towns and communities that could have used those chicken dollars to better someone or something.
What if, instead of buying a $4 sammich, every Christian believing in family values donated that $4 to their local homeless shelter or food bank or orphanage or animal rescue? I don't know... maybe it's my whacked-out sense of tradition or values, but I would find that much more gratifying than putting money towards keeping marriage a private club for breeders. Plus, I think there might be a quicker and more visible result on a smaller scale; rather than my meagre drop-in-the-bucket of millions already invested by a business like CFA. I can say that I've never seen lines that long or a rally this big to feed or shelter the homeless in own communities. Which is something Jesus actually WOULD do...

So, do with it what you will... I have no problem boycotting places that support organizations and people I'm not fond of for one reason or another. I have no reservations about raising my voice - or my blog - to say that I think this argument is as ignorant and ridiculous as segregation was 50 years ago.

I think that sin and the bible create chasms between people where there need not be any.

I'll defend someone's right to marry as quickly as I'll defend their right to have a vegan diet - though I have no intentions of personally adopting either lifestyle choice any time soon.

I guess the long and short of it is that I think it's important to be educated. I think it's empowering to know where your food comes from and where your money goes - and I think it's imperative that we understand and believe that there is happiness for others along different paths than our own.

Respect man, love man. Respect his individuality, respect his differences. And that is possible only if you respect your own individuality. That is possible only if you are grounded in your own being and you are unafraid.

I was never that impressed with their waffle fries, so really... I feel no great personal loss.