It finally happened. I woke up with that sticky feeling. The underside of my hair and back of my neck were slightly damp with sweat. The dreaded summer.
I've been able to exist for the past two weeks with just the comfort of my ceiling and box fans; and the nights are cool enough that I can leave the patio door open. Well, not any more.
Goodbye low electric bills.
Goodbye fresh air flowing through my house, thus reducing my claustrophobia.
Goodbye aromas of blossoming orange trees and neighbors grilling.
The children have finals this week and end their school year on Wednesday. Which also means that I will officially be the parent of a Junior and Senior in High School.
(Cue montage from every coming-of-age movie ever made and cut to shot of me sobbing on the couch - with a glass of wine in one hand, anti-aging brochure in the other hand and baby books on my lap.)
(Fade to black for transition and standby cue for 'Midlife Crisis'.)
I have promised to spend a good portion of the summer concentrating on defensive driving with the children so that they can get their licenses by the time my girl turns 16 in August.
(Cut to same shot on the couch, but wine has been replaced with hard liquor.)
So... this week, I pack my little heart out and hopefully organize everything into what will stay, what will go, and what we'll attempt to sell in a yard sale next weekend. Next Monday is the first week of summer camp, which means I'll be up at 7am every morning to teach Shakespeare to teens. Somehow on Tuesday and Wednesday, I'm also going to move all my crap from one house to the other - cue frantic phone call to bonded/insured moving companies - and establish my new home (for at least the next year).
I'll be teaching during the day and moving/unpacking in the evening... and probably passed out like a lousy drunk at night.
I feel for the kids, if only because I know they'll be saddled with chores and tasks and menial labor for the first couple weeks of their summer break. Picking up mom's slack. That's gonna suck for them.
Then I'll take them out in the Jeep and let them drive. Oh Lord, that's gonna suck for me.
Just thinking about it gives me heart palpitations and sets me on track to hyperventilate.
I'm feeling restless. Packing feels like purgatory. Knowing there's a D-Day just makes me wish it were here already so I can face it head-on with the energy I have now. I fear that the week will sap me and leave me unprepared for the physical and emotional tasks at hand. I'd love to just snap my fingers and have everything packed, cleaned, laundered, and ready to go. At least then I could go to the movies or do something frivolous without constantly thinking, "I should be at home, packing and cleaning or doing something productive."
I take solace in the prediction that today's weather will be cooler. I might leave my doors and windows open for one more night in the hopes that the onset of our oppressive summer will be be delayed for an evening or two.
...and here's to hoping that everything goes as smoothly as I've dreamed it out in my head.
... like a 1950's 'Grease' montage with talented, but misdirected children finding an outlet in Shakespeare; laughter at driving attempts that result in stalled or overheated engines; and moving company fellahs that spontaneously break into dance around the truck while singing 'We Go Together' as the entire neighborhood joins in and dances in the street (and I skip around handing out gift baskets of homemade goods while dressed as June Cleaver.)
Okay, so it may not go THAT smoothly... but I'll be content with anything that isn't a total disaster.
Oh, those summer nights.
One, two, three... jump.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
I can haz crisis?
I think now might be the best time to start scheduling my midlife crisis.
I always hear about men and women with stable and established lives who seem to decide one random morning that everything must change. Careers, relationships, locations, even the clothes they wear and the cars they drive.
The thing is... I don't really have what most would call a 'stable and established' life. I mean, I've always lived in the same state and I have two children who keep me fairly grounded, but I'm a gypsy at heart. And an actor's life is far from what most people would call stable. After a fair amount of drama in my early adulthood, I've managed to relegate it (mostly) to the stage and reform myself from a demanding, cocky diva into an ever-evolving artist with a great appreciation for 'the little things'. Life hands me melons because I've become emotionally dyslexic.
But here's the mastery behind my plan: You see, if I expedite my midlife crisis, I'm not putting it off to those menopausal days where my actions are dictated by hormone-induced psychosis or flights of fancy. I can plan it out methodically and allow my midlife crisis to be fun for everyone! I could sell all of my earthly possessions (and put the sentimental ones in storage - or mom's garage) and take the kids backpacking across Europe to celebrate their High School graduation.
I could take the kids on a cruise and then return to randomly pick a city on a map to relocate to.
I could return to my roots and visit family in Barbados and maybe fall in love with working the plantations. I'm still young enough for manual labor!
I could buy an RV and get a grant to tour the U.S. doing socio-economic and cultural studies of the effects of arts programs (and lack thereof) on inner-city communities.
I could retreat into the jungle and play my own game of 'Lost' meets 'Survivor' meets 'I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!'
Or... I could just pack another box, move into the next rental house and hope that I can drum up enough work to pay my bills and fund a few audition excursions within the next year...
I'll probably opt for the latter... since it seems that a crisis would indeed take much more planning than I'm willing to put into it right now. But it sounds like so much fun to just go completely 'whack-a-loon' for a while and live absolutely spontaneously.
This is where a little voice in the back of my head says that it's time to start living vicariously through my children. (Oh God, could you imagine me as a full-blown psycho stagemom? Terrifying!) But I really can't bear the thought for long, since my kids are just starting to get a taste of the freedom and independence that adulthood brings (yet without the responsibility) and to impose myself on their lives in this stage of the game would just be cruel.
(Though if they DO want mom tagging along on a backpacking trip across Europe, I'm SO in!!)
Better that I keep them sheltered from the whack-a-loon for just a while longer... though one could argue that they've already been far too exposed to take it back now.
I suppose the mid-life crisis will have to wait until I grow up a little bit more. And there's no telling how long that's actually going to take.
I must close for now so I can don my pencil skirt, twist up my hair, and dust off my German dialect for a callback. Playing 'pretend' for a living. Yeah... growing up is a long way off.
Fingers and toes crossed, kiddos!
I always hear about men and women with stable and established lives who seem to decide one random morning that everything must change. Careers, relationships, locations, even the clothes they wear and the cars they drive.
The thing is... I don't really have what most would call a 'stable and established' life. I mean, I've always lived in the same state and I have two children who keep me fairly grounded, but I'm a gypsy at heart. And an actor's life is far from what most people would call stable. After a fair amount of drama in my early adulthood, I've managed to relegate it (mostly) to the stage and reform myself from a demanding, cocky diva into an ever-evolving artist with a great appreciation for 'the little things'. Life hands me melons because I've become emotionally dyslexic.
But here's the mastery behind my plan: You see, if I expedite my midlife crisis, I'm not putting it off to those menopausal days where my actions are dictated by hormone-induced psychosis or flights of fancy. I can plan it out methodically and allow my midlife crisis to be fun for everyone! I could sell all of my earthly possessions (and put the sentimental ones in storage - or mom's garage) and take the kids backpacking across Europe to celebrate their High School graduation.
I could take the kids on a cruise and then return to randomly pick a city on a map to relocate to.
I could return to my roots and visit family in Barbados and maybe fall in love with working the plantations. I'm still young enough for manual labor!
I could buy an RV and get a grant to tour the U.S. doing socio-economic and cultural studies of the effects of arts programs (and lack thereof) on inner-city communities.
I could retreat into the jungle and play my own game of 'Lost' meets 'Survivor' meets 'I'm a Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here!'
Or... I could just pack another box, move into the next rental house and hope that I can drum up enough work to pay my bills and fund a few audition excursions within the next year...
I'll probably opt for the latter... since it seems that a crisis would indeed take much more planning than I'm willing to put into it right now. But it sounds like so much fun to just go completely 'whack-a-loon' for a while and live absolutely spontaneously.
This is where a little voice in the back of my head says that it's time to start living vicariously through my children. (Oh God, could you imagine me as a full-blown psycho stagemom? Terrifying!) But I really can't bear the thought for long, since my kids are just starting to get a taste of the freedom and independence that adulthood brings (yet without the responsibility) and to impose myself on their lives in this stage of the game would just be cruel.
(Though if they DO want mom tagging along on a backpacking trip across Europe, I'm SO in!!)
Better that I keep them sheltered from the whack-a-loon for just a while longer... though one could argue that they've already been far too exposed to take it back now.
I suppose the mid-life crisis will have to wait until I grow up a little bit more. And there's no telling how long that's actually going to take.
I must close for now so I can don my pencil skirt, twist up my hair, and dust off my German dialect for a callback. Playing 'pretend' for a living. Yeah... growing up is a long way off.
Fingers and toes crossed, kiddos!
Friday, May 20, 2011
Welcome Home!!
Yeah, I know, I know... I've been home for almost two weeks now.
I haven't even completely unpacked my suitcases or boxes, let alone begun the process of packing up the house to move... I just haven't found the motivation... or the house I'm moving into yet.
Upon my return, I hit two general auditions in town and started the house hunting in earnest, since my lease is up in three weeks and the owners need to try to sell it to get out from under the extra mortgage. Oh housing crisis, thank you for mucking up my perfect rental arrangement!
Concentrating on moving and auditions has been a godsend, really. It has allowed me to temporarily ignore the nagging writer's block and has also given me something to focus on instead of my post-show blues.
The show's over, Boo.
This weekend holds callbacks for 'Boeing Boeing' and '9 to 5' as well as appointments to see a few rental homes, catch-up with friends and family. I'm also working on my curriculum for the workshops I'm teaching in June.
That's right... I will be influencing the minds of 14-18 year olds. My plan for world domination is finally being realized! I'll be teaching one week of a Shakespeare intensive and one week of 'Mastering the Monologue' as audition prep. I'm very excited!! (But at this point, wholly unprepared.)
I still very much miss my family away from home... and it has felt slightly foreign to be back among my creature comforts. But it has been so wonderful to be back amongst my family and my dear, dear friends... without whom, I probably would have wallowed in depression for at least another week!
There has been plenty of blogworthy news this week, which made me realize that for as much as I 'blog' and 'live out loud' on the net, I'm actually a private person when it comes to the people and events that are truly dear to me.
Both my father and my step-dad faced health issues that came to their surgical conclusions... and both are recovering remarkably well. Several of my immediate family members have battled Cancer in the past few years which, of course, weighs heavily as I think of my own mortality and the relatively short amount of time we exist on this planet. I'm thankful that both of my dads have a ton of feisty years ahead of them.
I missed my babies a ton and still haven't spent enough time with them to make up for being away the past two months... but they only have two more weeks of school before they're off for the summer. I have a feeling we'll be spending a decent amount of time at my mom's... and her pool.
The uncertainty of what I'll actually be doing this season has me a bit restless. But I'm also excited to be getting to auditions outside of AZ... which, I guess, brings me to other blogworthy news...
I'm trying to get work in other states... and am earnestly prospecting out east. Not necessarily New York, though I'd love to work out there and get to see all my friends in the city... maybe I'll hit auditions there eventually, but I'm on the first set of baby-steps. I've lived in AZ all of my life, so there's bound to be some serious separation anxiety. I have a few contacts in Florida and throughout the southeast, so (God and CDs willing) that's probably where I will land within the next year or so.
I don't want to jinx anything, so I'll leave it at that and hope that callbacks go well this weekend and that I can get a few videos edited and submitted in the next few days. Fingers and toes crossed!!
I haven't even completely unpacked my suitcases or boxes, let alone begun the process of packing up the house to move... I just haven't found the motivation... or the house I'm moving into yet.
Upon my return, I hit two general auditions in town and started the house hunting in earnest, since my lease is up in three weeks and the owners need to try to sell it to get out from under the extra mortgage. Oh housing crisis, thank you for mucking up my perfect rental arrangement!
Concentrating on moving and auditions has been a godsend, really. It has allowed me to temporarily ignore the nagging writer's block and has also given me something to focus on instead of my post-show blues.
The show's over, Boo.
This weekend holds callbacks for 'Boeing Boeing' and '9 to 5' as well as appointments to see a few rental homes, catch-up with friends and family. I'm also working on my curriculum for the workshops I'm teaching in June.
That's right... I will be influencing the minds of 14-18 year olds. My plan for world domination is finally being realized! I'll be teaching one week of a Shakespeare intensive and one week of 'Mastering the Monologue' as audition prep. I'm very excited!! (But at this point, wholly unprepared.)
I still very much miss my family away from home... and it has felt slightly foreign to be back among my creature comforts. But it has been so wonderful to be back amongst my family and my dear, dear friends... without whom, I probably would have wallowed in depression for at least another week!
There has been plenty of blogworthy news this week, which made me realize that for as much as I 'blog' and 'live out loud' on the net, I'm actually a private person when it comes to the people and events that are truly dear to me.
Both my father and my step-dad faced health issues that came to their surgical conclusions... and both are recovering remarkably well. Several of my immediate family members have battled Cancer in the past few years which, of course, weighs heavily as I think of my own mortality and the relatively short amount of time we exist on this planet. I'm thankful that both of my dads have a ton of feisty years ahead of them.
I missed my babies a ton and still haven't spent enough time with them to make up for being away the past two months... but they only have two more weeks of school before they're off for the summer. I have a feeling we'll be spending a decent amount of time at my mom's... and her pool.
The uncertainty of what I'll actually be doing this season has me a bit restless. But I'm also excited to be getting to auditions outside of AZ... which, I guess, brings me to other blogworthy news...
I'm trying to get work in other states... and am earnestly prospecting out east. Not necessarily New York, though I'd love to work out there and get to see all my friends in the city... maybe I'll hit auditions there eventually, but I'm on the first set of baby-steps. I've lived in AZ all of my life, so there's bound to be some serious separation anxiety. I have a few contacts in Florida and throughout the southeast, so (God and CDs willing) that's probably where I will land within the next year or so.
I don't want to jinx anything, so I'll leave it at that and hope that callbacks go well this weekend and that I can get a few videos edited and submitted in the next few days. Fingers and toes crossed!!
Monday, May 9, 2011
Adventures In Little Rock: The Final Chapter
I hate goodbyes.
I also hate closing good shows.
Every show, every theatre, every organization has it's own quirks and processes.
Complications like dual directors, no wing space, troublesome sound and tech booth ergonomics only add to the character of a show (in my opinion) and this production of Hairspray was no exception.
I was honored to reprise this role with talented artists that I had worked with in Phoenix, but had no idea the additional number of people that I would come to know and love in my two months here.
The Stage Management team took me under their wing and allowed me to walk the line between actor and crew - finding solace in girlie time with Ann and joy in the disgust on Mary's face when I licked her. Not to mention their nefarious leader, Patrick, who allowed me to vent when I needed and gave me the pimp hand when I was gettin' too big for my britches - even allowing me to adopt his dog as a temporary surrogate for my beloved Roxanne.
Corinne... good, God... what a fun musical director! Equal parts no-nonsense and heart, I loved and respected her instantly... and her wit is only matched by her sarcasm. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her.
The cast... was and is simply amazing. From all of my nicest kids: Mary Katelin, Molly, Stacy, Kayte, Kelsie and Christy were always smiling and full of amazing energy. God, these girls made me laugh... I mean REALLY laugh... and made me feel like I was big sister to some amazing young women. And my boys.... my sweet, sweet Kevin, Matt, David and Brendan who NEVER dropped me and in fact lifted me up in more ways than one. And of course, Cory, Michael, Gregory and Antyon... all of whom I will miss so much.
Our girls' dressing room was such a sanctuary. Kim and Iris who are everything I wish I could be as a performer and more - Miss Sandy, who is a hoot and a holler "Happy Biiiirthday" kind of gal, and the beautiful Laura and Katie: Miss Congeniality and Punky Who. What a blast we had with our Pandora pre-show and our random discussions!
Jay and Rick, who never ceased to keep a twinkle in my eye onstage, and LaVon, who arrived grieving the loss of her aunt and grandmother, but who left celebrating a new pregnancy.
And Lillian... my dear, sweet Tracy. No one could ever compare with the remarkable amount of heart in this woman.
I learned a lot in Arkansas.
I learned that tornadoes are scary and will suck the windows right off of a building.
I learned that good people will make up for a world of loneliness and discomfort in a foreign setting.
I learned that you should NEVER stand up your MD when she invites you out for dinner or drinks... and if you do, she will give you a ton of shit.
I learned that hazing young sorority sisters is fun for everyone involved!
I learned that hallway/block party/potlucks are super-awesome and totally exhausting!
I learned that residents of Arkansas are some of the nicest, most supportive people I've ever met.
I learned that there is no substitute for a really good snuggle session.
I learned that it's exactly 12 steps from the stage left wing to the vanity spike at center.
I learned that a good sense of humor goes a long way.
I learned that two months is a hell of a long time to go without seeing or hugging my babies.
I learned that home is truly where you make it... and for the last two months, my home has been pretty damn nice.
A part of me wanted to stay in Arkansas, knowing that there were people staying... it didn't feel right to leave only parts of our family behind as we fractured and separated towards our respective home bases.
My flight into Dallas was delayed by over an hour due to mechanical test difficulties, which resulted in missing my connecting flight. They popped me onto a later flight which also ended up being delayed by over an hour... and I knew that my patience was being tested. I could have stayed in Arkansas another day or I could have been in Arizona... but I did NOT want to be stranded in the purgatory that was Dallas/Ft. Worth for another moment!
I finally landed in Arizona around 6pm and was home sweet home to face my bewildered animals by 6:30. They've been at my heels ever since.
It's good to be home, but I will miss this chapter in the theatre journey. Both for the show and its message as well as the people and their love, talent and energy.
Thank you, Little Rock.
I also hate closing good shows.
Every show, every theatre, every organization has it's own quirks and processes.
Complications like dual directors, no wing space, troublesome sound and tech booth ergonomics only add to the character of a show (in my opinion) and this production of Hairspray was no exception.
I was honored to reprise this role with talented artists that I had worked with in Phoenix, but had no idea the additional number of people that I would come to know and love in my two months here.
The Stage Management team took me under their wing and allowed me to walk the line between actor and crew - finding solace in girlie time with Ann and joy in the disgust on Mary's face when I licked her. Not to mention their nefarious leader, Patrick, who allowed me to vent when I needed and gave me the pimp hand when I was gettin' too big for my britches - even allowing me to adopt his dog as a temporary surrogate for my beloved Roxanne.
Corinne... good, God... what a fun musical director! Equal parts no-nonsense and heart, I loved and respected her instantly... and her wit is only matched by her sarcasm. I didn't get to spend nearly enough time with her.
The cast... was and is simply amazing. From all of my nicest kids: Mary Katelin, Molly, Stacy, Kayte, Kelsie and Christy were always smiling and full of amazing energy. God, these girls made me laugh... I mean REALLY laugh... and made me feel like I was big sister to some amazing young women. And my boys.... my sweet, sweet Kevin, Matt, David and Brendan who NEVER dropped me and in fact lifted me up in more ways than one. And of course, Cory, Michael, Gregory and Antyon... all of whom I will miss so much.
Our girls' dressing room was such a sanctuary. Kim and Iris who are everything I wish I could be as a performer and more - Miss Sandy, who is a hoot and a holler "Happy Biiiirthday" kind of gal, and the beautiful Laura and Katie: Miss Congeniality and Punky Who. What a blast we had with our Pandora pre-show and our random discussions!
Jay and Rick, who never ceased to keep a twinkle in my eye onstage, and LaVon, who arrived grieving the loss of her aunt and grandmother, but who left celebrating a new pregnancy.
And Lillian... my dear, sweet Tracy. No one could ever compare with the remarkable amount of heart in this woman.
I learned a lot in Arkansas.
I learned that tornadoes are scary and will suck the windows right off of a building.
I learned that good people will make up for a world of loneliness and discomfort in a foreign setting.
I learned that you should NEVER stand up your MD when she invites you out for dinner or drinks... and if you do, she will give you a ton of shit.
I learned that hazing young sorority sisters is fun for everyone involved!
I learned that hallway/block party/potlucks are super-awesome and totally exhausting!
I learned that residents of Arkansas are some of the nicest, most supportive people I've ever met.
I learned that there is no substitute for a really good snuggle session.
I learned that it's exactly 12 steps from the stage left wing to the vanity spike at center.
I learned that a good sense of humor goes a long way.
I learned that two months is a hell of a long time to go without seeing or hugging my babies.
I learned that home is truly where you make it... and for the last two months, my home has been pretty damn nice.
A part of me wanted to stay in Arkansas, knowing that there were people staying... it didn't feel right to leave only parts of our family behind as we fractured and separated towards our respective home bases.
My flight into Dallas was delayed by over an hour due to mechanical test difficulties, which resulted in missing my connecting flight. They popped me onto a later flight which also ended up being delayed by over an hour... and I knew that my patience was being tested. I could have stayed in Arkansas another day or I could have been in Arizona... but I did NOT want to be stranded in the purgatory that was Dallas/Ft. Worth for another moment!
I finally landed in Arizona around 6pm and was home sweet home to face my bewildered animals by 6:30. They've been at my heels ever since.
It's good to be home, but I will miss this chapter in the theatre journey. Both for the show and its message as well as the people and their love, talent and energy.
Thank you, Little Rock.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Adventures In Little Rock: Vol. 5
We ain't in Kansas, Toto... but you'd think we were with all the crazy weather around here!!
As mentioned in a previous post, they test the tornado sirens every Wednesday at noon. (Which leaves me to wonder... what happens if there is ever an actual tornado at noon on a Wednesday?)
On several occasions now, we've heard those sirens going off at night as we hunker down in whatever building we happen to be in while storms rage outside.
And on at least one occasion, I've wanted to run out there and yell,
"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!"
If nothing else, because it's just so perfectly and beautifully dramatic!!
I've decided that I don't mind the weather in Little Rock. I was warned that Mother Nature is bipolar here; and that it can be 90 degrees and sunny one day, frigid and raining the next. That was no lie.
We've had no less than three 'hallway parties' as the residents take refuge during tornado warnings - and have also held an entire audience hostage through a 45-minute intermission. (They've been our best audience to date, in my opinion.) Last night, as I watched three tornado trackers whip through Arkansas, I opted to make crepes. I mean, who ever heard of a cast dying in a tornado while eating crepes? Even if we did perish... I figured the media would have a great story!
I've also decided that the weather suits my fickle nature and makes every day an adventure. Seeing the real-life, close-up damage it can cause still makes me nervous, but I do not miss the hot, stagnant, stifling air of my own hometown when compared to the tranquil breezes of a warm day in Little Rock.
It also reaffirms my belief that I need to relocate somewhere closer to water. I'm a desert rat and don't do well in the snow for long periods of time, but there are plenty of tropical climes that are still accessible. I find myself counting the days 'til the kids are done with High School... ready to set down new roots and travel back to the old ones in between whatever gigs I can land. It's scary... but again, every day is an adventure... and I'm pretty sure I thrive on that kind of existence.
Tomorrow, I will head over to the post office to pick up boxes to ship stuff back home.
I am going to miss this show and this cast, so I don't really want to think about leaving yet... but the reality is that I will only be here for 13 more days... and it is going by very quickly now.
The theatre suffered some damage last night as a result of the storm. Three or four huge glass panels were vacuumed right into the street (blown OUT, not in) and I imagine there was probably water and debris damage, though hopefully only minor. The theatre is being renovated in a couple of months... but it appears that Mama Nature wanted to start early.
And on that note, I need to get my laundry done and prep for tonight's show... in the meantime, I leave you with this poor quality video as a peek into what we do when we're not performing. (We hang in Lillian's room and watch the storms.)
As mentioned in a previous post, they test the tornado sirens every Wednesday at noon. (Which leaves me to wonder... what happens if there is ever an actual tornado at noon on a Wednesday?)
On several occasions now, we've heard those sirens going off at night as we hunker down in whatever building we happen to be in while storms rage outside.
And on at least one occasion, I've wanted to run out there and yell,
"Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, drowned the cocks!"
If nothing else, because it's just so perfectly and beautifully dramatic!!
I've decided that I don't mind the weather in Little Rock. I was warned that Mother Nature is bipolar here; and that it can be 90 degrees and sunny one day, frigid and raining the next. That was no lie.
We've had no less than three 'hallway parties' as the residents take refuge during tornado warnings - and have also held an entire audience hostage through a 45-minute intermission. (They've been our best audience to date, in my opinion.) Last night, as I watched three tornado trackers whip through Arkansas, I opted to make crepes. I mean, who ever heard of a cast dying in a tornado while eating crepes? Even if we did perish... I figured the media would have a great story!
I've also decided that the weather suits my fickle nature and makes every day an adventure. Seeing the real-life, close-up damage it can cause still makes me nervous, but I do not miss the hot, stagnant, stifling air of my own hometown when compared to the tranquil breezes of a warm day in Little Rock.
It also reaffirms my belief that I need to relocate somewhere closer to water. I'm a desert rat and don't do well in the snow for long periods of time, but there are plenty of tropical climes that are still accessible. I find myself counting the days 'til the kids are done with High School... ready to set down new roots and travel back to the old ones in between whatever gigs I can land. It's scary... but again, every day is an adventure... and I'm pretty sure I thrive on that kind of existence.
Tomorrow, I will head over to the post office to pick up boxes to ship stuff back home.
I am going to miss this show and this cast, so I don't really want to think about leaving yet... but the reality is that I will only be here for 13 more days... and it is going by very quickly now.
The theatre suffered some damage last night as a result of the storm. Three or four huge glass panels were vacuumed right into the street (blown OUT, not in) and I imagine there was probably water and debris damage, though hopefully only minor. The theatre is being renovated in a couple of months... but it appears that Mama Nature wanted to start early.
And on that note, I need to get my laundry done and prep for tonight's show... in the meantime, I leave you with this poor quality video as a peek into what we do when we're not performing. (We hang in Lillian's room and watch the storms.)
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Adventures In Little Rock: Vol. 4
Today is a day of double shows and I should be warming up so I have some semblance of a voice for the matinee, but I overslept and feel bad for neglecting my blog so much on this trip.
I have been writing, but most of it has been for what will eventually be an actual, real-life, honest-to-goodness novel... someday. I'm just waiting for the Blue Fairy to appear and tell me 'what' it's supposed to be and how to get it there. But she's an elusive creature and has yet to tap me on the head with her magic wand. So for now... I just write... and rewrite... and edit... and write some more.
Today, one of my best gal pals from Jr. High and High School (Ann) and her husband are driving down to Little Rock to see the show. I haven't seen 'AnnieM' (as I used to call her in my best Judy Garland) since our chance meeting at a gas station one week after we graduated High School. So it has been... oh... 17 years. Holy crap!!
Ann and I bonded in Jr. High when we both found ourselves at the mercy of the same nasty, ugly, red-headed bully. We had known each other from sharing a few classes, but nothing bonds two people like a common enemy. Besides which, Ann was a quiet, unassuming, gentle spirit who wouldn't hurt a fly... so the fact that this girl wanted to 'beat us up' was less threatening and more comical at that point. (But still traumatic to 13 and 14 year olds.)
We both loved 'written word' artistry and the performing arts. She and I would skip and dance down the halls of school singing,
"Three little maids from school are we,
Pert as a school-girl well can be,
Filled to the brim with girlish glee,
Three little maids from school!"
as we discussed the kinds of boys we'd like to marry someday and what kind of houses our husbands would build us. (Yes, I think I actually believed for a time that I'd end up with the kind of husband who would build me a pretty little ranch house somewhere green and woodsy... no picket fence... just acreage.)
Her parents took us on a road trip the summer before our Sophomore year to visit Ann's grandma. We visited the 'Natural Bridge' for some hiking and natural sight-seeing where the cool, clear waters of the creek called to us. We opted to ignore all of the signs posted by the park service and skinny dip anyway. Luckily, we only got into minimal trouble for that one.
Throughout our High School years, we took on different interests. I didn't want to just sing the Mikado, I wanted to be IN it. So, while choir and drama and dance took over my life, Ann delved into tennis and student government. Our paths continued to cross in our mutual Honors classes, and our civilized upbringing and our derelict senses of humor continued to keep our friendship intact.
And so it is... 17 years later... that I ended up in her current state of residence doing a raucous musical.
She and her husband are driving down to Little Rock to see tonight's show after which we will try to catch up on the past (almost) two decades over cocktails or brunch before they drive back home tomorrow.
There's something comforting about knowing that even though I'm far from home... there are elements of home (and my ever distant youth) that are still accessible.
It's also a blessing to know that good friends are always good friends... no matter the time or distance between us.
Today's show will be dedicated to Jr. High bullies and the hopes that they are happier now than they were then.
Tonight's show will be dedicated to the friendships that stand the test of time.
And on that note, I must end this entry to apply some garish blue eyeshadow. :)
Merde!
I have been writing, but most of it has been for what will eventually be an actual, real-life, honest-to-goodness novel... someday. I'm just waiting for the Blue Fairy to appear and tell me 'what' it's supposed to be and how to get it there. But she's an elusive creature and has yet to tap me on the head with her magic wand. So for now... I just write... and rewrite... and edit... and write some more.
Today, one of my best gal pals from Jr. High and High School (Ann) and her husband are driving down to Little Rock to see the show. I haven't seen 'AnnieM' (as I used to call her in my best Judy Garland) since our chance meeting at a gas station one week after we graduated High School. So it has been... oh... 17 years. Holy crap!!
Ann and I bonded in Jr. High when we both found ourselves at the mercy of the same nasty, ugly, red-headed bully. We had known each other from sharing a few classes, but nothing bonds two people like a common enemy. Besides which, Ann was a quiet, unassuming, gentle spirit who wouldn't hurt a fly... so the fact that this girl wanted to 'beat us up' was less threatening and more comical at that point. (But still traumatic to 13 and 14 year olds.)
We both loved 'written word' artistry and the performing arts. She and I would skip and dance down the halls of school singing,
"Three little maids from school are we,
Pert as a school-girl well can be,
Filled to the brim with girlish glee,
Three little maids from school!"
as we discussed the kinds of boys we'd like to marry someday and what kind of houses our husbands would build us. (Yes, I think I actually believed for a time that I'd end up with the kind of husband who would build me a pretty little ranch house somewhere green and woodsy... no picket fence... just acreage.)
Her parents took us on a road trip the summer before our Sophomore year to visit Ann's grandma. We visited the 'Natural Bridge' for some hiking and natural sight-seeing where the cool, clear waters of the creek called to us. We opted to ignore all of the signs posted by the park service and skinny dip anyway. Luckily, we only got into minimal trouble for that one.
Throughout our High School years, we took on different interests. I didn't want to just sing the Mikado, I wanted to be IN it. So, while choir and drama and dance took over my life, Ann delved into tennis and student government. Our paths continued to cross in our mutual Honors classes, and our civilized upbringing and our derelict senses of humor continued to keep our friendship intact.
And so it is... 17 years later... that I ended up in her current state of residence doing a raucous musical.
She and her husband are driving down to Little Rock to see tonight's show after which we will try to catch up on the past (almost) two decades over cocktails or brunch before they drive back home tomorrow.
There's something comforting about knowing that even though I'm far from home... there are elements of home (and my ever distant youth) that are still accessible.
It's also a blessing to know that good friends are always good friends... no matter the time or distance between us.
Today's show will be dedicated to Jr. High bullies and the hopes that they are happier now than they were then.
Tonight's show will be dedicated to the friendships that stand the test of time.
And on that note, I must end this entry to apply some garish blue eyeshadow. :)
Merde!
Friday, April 8, 2011
Adventures In Little Rock: Vol. 3
Okay, so it has been a while since I posted... and I don't have much time, so this will be more of a Reader's Digest Condensed Version. (For those who even know what Reader's Digest is anymore...)
First of all, for those who are curious about my ghost (Steve), he seems to be doing well and sends his good wishes to everyone reading.
Lillian (our Tracy Turnblad) was housed in my apartment while she was here doing Glorious, so she gave me some pointers. Apparently, she set some 'ground rules' that were to be strictly followed (such as the bedroom being her private, sacred space in which he is unwelcome.)
I had a 'conversation' with him that consisted of, "Hey... um... Lils told me all about you, Steve. Um... she also told me that you know the rules, so the same rules apply, and um... I will have no more tomfoolery, OKAY?" (*silence*)
Yes, I felt silly, but it worked. And as long as my bedroom door is shut at night, I'm oblivious to his shenanigans. He does, however, still turn off the light on my ceiling fan and changes my channels when he doesn't approve of my viewing choices. So far I have determined that he prefers the History Channel to RuPaul's Drag Race and if I dare watch any Desperate Housewives (of ANY city), he will find whatever war movie is randomly playing and switch to that. On one occasion, there were obviously no war movies showing and so he chose BBC coverage of the war in Afghanistan instead. Gee, thanks.
My second week here, I got really sick. What I thought were horrible allergies (because I've never really suffered from them and didn't know any better) was actually a sinus and ear infection. I got a steroid shot and some antibiotics and am now feeling 110% better! Except I now actually know what allergies feel like... and they suck. Claritin has been my friend and enabled me to keep some semblance of a voice amidst all the pollen around here.
Arkansas is gorgeous. The weather fluctuates daily and it has been warm and breezy or frigid and pouring every other day, which suits my fickle mood and allows me to dress in layers. I love it!!
Tonight is Opening Night and the show has grown by leaps and bounds throughout tech. The costume crew has worked above and beyond overtime to replace trim, tailor suits, and place insoles in the shoes of all the divas... The entire production crew and staff at The Rep are awesome and truly proud of the product they offer and the artistry inside its walls, which I respect immensely.
I'm proud to be here, proud to be part of an amazing show and have had an uproariously fun journey with all of these beautiful people. And really thrilled to be playing such a fun role!!
I tried to nap in the hopes that I could keep up with the kids at the after-party, but I no sooner laid down than someone upstairs started choreographing 42nd street and rearranging all the heavy furniture while simultaneously my son started texting pics of his wood shop project and the landscapers set up shop outside my open window. Apparently there is MUCH debris to be blown away on my side of the building as they've been by four times now. (And I assure you, I'm fully dressed.) However, it was a bit of a shock to see an all-white landscaping crew with nary a Mexican among them. I caught myself staring. I know, I know, my hometown is showing. :)
And on that note, Happy Opening to the cast and crew. This one is much deserved. Now I'm off to spread my crabs to all the willing participants...
Merde!!
First of all, for those who are curious about my ghost (Steve), he seems to be doing well and sends his good wishes to everyone reading.
Lillian (our Tracy Turnblad) was housed in my apartment while she was here doing Glorious, so she gave me some pointers. Apparently, she set some 'ground rules' that were to be strictly followed (such as the bedroom being her private, sacred space in which he is unwelcome.)
I had a 'conversation' with him that consisted of, "Hey... um... Lils told me all about you, Steve. Um... she also told me that you know the rules, so the same rules apply, and um... I will have no more tomfoolery, OKAY?" (*silence*)
Yes, I felt silly, but it worked. And as long as my bedroom door is shut at night, I'm oblivious to his shenanigans. He does, however, still turn off the light on my ceiling fan and changes my channels when he doesn't approve of my viewing choices. So far I have determined that he prefers the History Channel to RuPaul's Drag Race and if I dare watch any Desperate Housewives (of ANY city), he will find whatever war movie is randomly playing and switch to that. On one occasion, there were obviously no war movies showing and so he chose BBC coverage of the war in Afghanistan instead. Gee, thanks.
My second week here, I got really sick. What I thought were horrible allergies (because I've never really suffered from them and didn't know any better) was actually a sinus and ear infection. I got a steroid shot and some antibiotics and am now feeling 110% better! Except I now actually know what allergies feel like... and they suck. Claritin has been my friend and enabled me to keep some semblance of a voice amidst all the pollen around here.
Arkansas is gorgeous. The weather fluctuates daily and it has been warm and breezy or frigid and pouring every other day, which suits my fickle mood and allows me to dress in layers. I love it!!
Tonight is Opening Night and the show has grown by leaps and bounds throughout tech. The costume crew has worked above and beyond overtime to replace trim, tailor suits, and place insoles in the shoes of all the divas... The entire production crew and staff at The Rep are awesome and truly proud of the product they offer and the artistry inside its walls, which I respect immensely.
I'm proud to be here, proud to be part of an amazing show and have had an uproariously fun journey with all of these beautiful people. And really thrilled to be playing such a fun role!!
I tried to nap in the hopes that I could keep up with the kids at the after-party, but I no sooner laid down than someone upstairs started choreographing 42nd street and rearranging all the heavy furniture while simultaneously my son started texting pics of his wood shop project and the landscapers set up shop outside my open window. Apparently there is MUCH debris to be blown away on my side of the building as they've been by four times now. (And I assure you, I'm fully dressed.) However, it was a bit of a shock to see an all-white landscaping crew with nary a Mexican among them. I caught myself staring. I know, I know, my hometown is showing. :)
And on that note, Happy Opening to the cast and crew. This one is much deserved. Now I'm off to spread my crabs to all the willing participants...
Merde!!
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
The Little Rock Nine
I was going to blog more about my experiences with Hairspray rehearsals and the ghost in my apartment (Steve) but I'm still reeling over my visit to Central High School and opted to blog it out now in the hopes that I can sleep.
A good chunk of our cast had the opportunity to tour Central High School, famous for the 1957 segregation controversy and Alma Mater of 'The Little Rock Nine'. The impact of being there in person is something I will never forget.
Before the days of cell phones and Youtube, this school in Little Rock, Arkansas reached global attention as a hot-spot for hostile race relations and political maneuvering at the expense of its children.
In 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court had deemed segregated schools unconstitutional (Brown v. Board of Education: Topeka, Kansas) and plans began for the desegregation of previously 'white only' schools in the south.
Nine black students were registered to begin the school year at Central High in 1957. They were Earnest Green, Elizabeth Eckford, Jefferson Thomas, Terrence Roberts, Carlotta Walls LaNier, Minnijean Brown, Gloria Ray Karlmark, Thelma Mothershed, and Melba Patillo Beals.
The Governer at the time, Orval Faubus, deployed the Arkansas National Guard to support the segregationists in blocking the black students from entering the school. His rebellion of the new Federal law prompted Eisenhower to order the 101st Airborne Division of the US Army to escort the children to campus; and he federalized the Arkansas National Guard to take it out of the hands of Faubus (aka Douchey McAssHat).
The angry mob of white students, parents, citizens and curious onlookers is memorialized in photos and videos that are now famous in their depiction of 'white vs. black' at a time when segregation was commonplace.
It blows my mind.
The concept of prejudice and exclusion based on race is one that is absolutely foreign to me. I learned about slavery and segregation in school; but even at that time, it seemed as archaic as learning about ancient Greece.
Today, it struck me how RECENT this all was in our history. Merely 50 years ago in our history, we were still treating African Americans as sub-human; associating them as low-income, low-intelligence, undesirables. It makes my heart weep.
I've been hearing (and seeing) a ton about 'bullying' as it is a hot topic in American schools right now. Parents are raising their voices about the ill treatment of their children in places where we give up our rights and responsibilities to school administrators and district title-holders.
It occurred to me today that these nine students could shed a lot of light and wisdom about the lasting scars, having endured the most outrageous and blatant bullying I've ever heard of. And not just at the hands of their peers, but at the hands of parents, teachers, lawmakers... the very individuals that should have had no higher priority but to serve and protect the members of their community. And for God's sake... these were CHILDREN.
I have always maintained that intolerance and prejudice is predominantly learned. I do believe that in the case of the "Little Rock Nine", most of the white students that mistreated their black peers did so because they were taught by their parents and their parents' parents to think or believe certain (incorrect) truths about race and/or social classes.
"Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do."
We also had the amazing opportunity to meet Minnijean Brown (as well as her daughter) and listen to her speak. Her grace and poise was captivating and her words struck my heart.
Indeed, I felt guilty for being white, and throughout the afternoon I kept thinking, "Man, if I went to this school in 1957, it would be a TOTALLY different story!"
But would it?
Minnijean made the statement that the demographic breakdown went something like this, "There were about 100 truly mean and horrible students, about 20 nice ones, and a thousand silent witnesses."
It made me stop and think about any time I witnessed injustice or unfair treatment and said nothing. Any time I saw another human being in pain and just walked by...
I doubted I had ever been truly horrible to anyone besides my brothers... but I had to admit that there have been instances (more than one) in which I'm guilty of having been a silent witness.
It also brought to light how much weight... how much responsibility... how much shame... were put on these kids. Children who were doing nothing more than exercising their right to learn. To LEARN. And what were we teaching them?
I guiltily thought of every time I've ever joked disparagingly about another race in the presence of my kids. I justified it with the fact that I disparage my own race as much (if not more) than any other; and that because my kids are multi-racial themselves, the inclusion of all races, religions, sexual orientations, etc. have been equally accepted in our household as human beings worthy of love, acceptance, respect and tolerance. But even then, I had to check myself. Is there anything I do or say to indicate that anyone shouldn't be treated equally? Good God, I hope not!
I have to admit that I was raised by parents who never inferred or intimated that any race or skin color was better than another. As a kid, I remember wishing that God would make me black so I could sing and dance better, but that was based on my own observations at the time. I also have to admit that I know not every set of parents feels the same way as mine, nor did they raise their children in the same vein of love and fellowship.
It breaks my heart to hear the stories of abuse - both physical and verbal - that these kids endured on a daily basis. And they didn't have one bully or two like most of us did growing up. They had scores of bullies. Some of them the very adults that they were told they must respect and obey.
It is sobering and humbling to know and understand these events as they unfolded. And as I hear about 'culture clashes' and vitriol being spewed at collective groups because they are gay or Muslim or whatever... it is reminiscent of these mistakes of our forefathers.
The past echoes in my head as I wonder if we will ever learn, or if we will continuously repeat the mistakes of the preceding generations with a tendency towards fear and exclusion in an attempt to make our own selves feel special or closer to enlightenment.
My only hope is that I can do my part to correct these mistakes by raising my children to know (not just believe, but KNOW) that the world can only be a wonderful place if you continuously look to the beauty and wonder that it contains. And that includes love and respect for every person, place, animal, vegetable and mineral. There are shitty people within any group or subculture, sure. But no one person represents a collective any more than a collective can adequately represent any one unique individual. Perhaps with another generation or two, we can effectively dilute the hate, the fear and the confusion.
As I left Central High School, the only thought in my head was that the mob back in September of 1957 fancied themselves the majority 'in the right' over these poor, ignorant nine students.... but were instead an example of a truly ignorant majority.
Wake up, nation. It was not that long ago. I wonder how much progress we've actually made since then.
And on that note, I'll leave you with this poem, recommended by Minnijean Brown and penned by Cyrus Cassells for Elizabeth Eckford:
Soul Make a Path Through Shouting
Thick at the schoolgate are the ones
Rage has twisted
Into minotaurs, harpies
Relentlessly swift;
So you must walk past the pincers,
The swaying horns,
Sister, sister,
Straight through the gusts
Of fear and fury,
Straight through:
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
Here we go to meet
The hydra-headed day,
Here we go to meet
The maelstrom-
Can my voice be an angel-on-the-spot,
An amen corner?
Can my voice take you there,
Gallant girl with a notebook,
Up, up from the shadows of gallows trees
To the other shore:
A globe bathed in light,
A chalkboard blooming with equations-
I have never seen the likes of you,
Pioneer in dark glasses:
You won't show the mob your eyes,
But I know your gaze,
Steady-on-the-North-Star, burning-
With their jerry-rigged faith,
Their spear on the American flag,
How could they dare to believe
You're someone sacred?:
Nigger, burr-headed girl,
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
A good chunk of our cast had the opportunity to tour Central High School, famous for the 1957 segregation controversy and Alma Mater of 'The Little Rock Nine'. The impact of being there in person is something I will never forget.
Before the days of cell phones and Youtube, this school in Little Rock, Arkansas reached global attention as a hot-spot for hostile race relations and political maneuvering at the expense of its children.
In 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court had deemed segregated schools unconstitutional (Brown v. Board of Education: Topeka, Kansas) and plans began for the desegregation of previously 'white only' schools in the south.
Nine black students were registered to begin the school year at Central High in 1957. They were Earnest Green, Elizabeth Eckford, Jefferson Thomas, Terrence Roberts, Carlotta Walls LaNier, Minnijean Brown, Gloria Ray Karlmark, Thelma Mothershed, and Melba Patillo Beals.
The Governer at the time, Orval Faubus, deployed the Arkansas National Guard to support the segregationists in blocking the black students from entering the school. His rebellion of the new Federal law prompted Eisenhower to order the 101st Airborne Division of the US Army to escort the children to campus; and he federalized the Arkansas National Guard to take it out of the hands of Faubus (aka Douchey McAssHat).
The angry mob of white students, parents, citizens and curious onlookers is memorialized in photos and videos that are now famous in their depiction of 'white vs. black' at a time when segregation was commonplace.
It blows my mind.
The concept of prejudice and exclusion based on race is one that is absolutely foreign to me. I learned about slavery and segregation in school; but even at that time, it seemed as archaic as learning about ancient Greece.
Today, it struck me how RECENT this all was in our history. Merely 50 years ago in our history, we were still treating African Americans as sub-human; associating them as low-income, low-intelligence, undesirables. It makes my heart weep.
I've been hearing (and seeing) a ton about 'bullying' as it is a hot topic in American schools right now. Parents are raising their voices about the ill treatment of their children in places where we give up our rights and responsibilities to school administrators and district title-holders.
It occurred to me today that these nine students could shed a lot of light and wisdom about the lasting scars, having endured the most outrageous and blatant bullying I've ever heard of. And not just at the hands of their peers, but at the hands of parents, teachers, lawmakers... the very individuals that should have had no higher priority but to serve and protect the members of their community. And for God's sake... these were CHILDREN.
I have always maintained that intolerance and prejudice is predominantly learned. I do believe that in the case of the "Little Rock Nine", most of the white students that mistreated their black peers did so because they were taught by their parents and their parents' parents to think or believe certain (incorrect) truths about race and/or social classes.
"Forgive them Father, for they know not what they do."
We also had the amazing opportunity to meet Minnijean Brown (as well as her daughter) and listen to her speak. Her grace and poise was captivating and her words struck my heart.
Indeed, I felt guilty for being white, and throughout the afternoon I kept thinking, "Man, if I went to this school in 1957, it would be a TOTALLY different story!"
But would it?
Minnijean made the statement that the demographic breakdown went something like this, "There were about 100 truly mean and horrible students, about 20 nice ones, and a thousand silent witnesses."
It made me stop and think about any time I witnessed injustice or unfair treatment and said nothing. Any time I saw another human being in pain and just walked by...
I doubted I had ever been truly horrible to anyone besides my brothers... but I had to admit that there have been instances (more than one) in which I'm guilty of having been a silent witness.
It also brought to light how much weight... how much responsibility... how much shame... were put on these kids. Children who were doing nothing more than exercising their right to learn. To LEARN. And what were we teaching them?
I guiltily thought of every time I've ever joked disparagingly about another race in the presence of my kids. I justified it with the fact that I disparage my own race as much (if not more) than any other; and that because my kids are multi-racial themselves, the inclusion of all races, religions, sexual orientations, etc. have been equally accepted in our household as human beings worthy of love, acceptance, respect and tolerance. But even then, I had to check myself. Is there anything I do or say to indicate that anyone shouldn't be treated equally? Good God, I hope not!
I have to admit that I was raised by parents who never inferred or intimated that any race or skin color was better than another. As a kid, I remember wishing that God would make me black so I could sing and dance better, but that was based on my own observations at the time. I also have to admit that I know not every set of parents feels the same way as mine, nor did they raise their children in the same vein of love and fellowship.
It breaks my heart to hear the stories of abuse - both physical and verbal - that these kids endured on a daily basis. And they didn't have one bully or two like most of us did growing up. They had scores of bullies. Some of them the very adults that they were told they must respect and obey.
It is sobering and humbling to know and understand these events as they unfolded. And as I hear about 'culture clashes' and vitriol being spewed at collective groups because they are gay or Muslim or whatever... it is reminiscent of these mistakes of our forefathers.
The past echoes in my head as I wonder if we will ever learn, or if we will continuously repeat the mistakes of the preceding generations with a tendency towards fear and exclusion in an attempt to make our own selves feel special or closer to enlightenment.
My only hope is that I can do my part to correct these mistakes by raising my children to know (not just believe, but KNOW) that the world can only be a wonderful place if you continuously look to the beauty and wonder that it contains. And that includes love and respect for every person, place, animal, vegetable and mineral. There are shitty people within any group or subculture, sure. But no one person represents a collective any more than a collective can adequately represent any one unique individual. Perhaps with another generation or two, we can effectively dilute the hate, the fear and the confusion.
As I left Central High School, the only thought in my head was that the mob back in September of 1957 fancied themselves the majority 'in the right' over these poor, ignorant nine students.... but were instead an example of a truly ignorant majority.
Wake up, nation. It was not that long ago. I wonder how much progress we've actually made since then.
And on that note, I'll leave you with this poem, recommended by Minnijean Brown and penned by Cyrus Cassells for Elizabeth Eckford:
Soul Make a Path Through Shouting
Thick at the schoolgate are the ones
Rage has twisted
Into minotaurs, harpies
Relentlessly swift;
So you must walk past the pincers,
The swaying horns,
Sister, sister,
Straight through the gusts
Of fear and fury,
Straight through:
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
Here we go to meet
The hydra-headed day,
Here we go to meet
The maelstrom-
Can my voice be an angel-on-the-spot,
An amen corner?
Can my voice take you there,
Gallant girl with a notebook,
Up, up from the shadows of gallows trees
To the other shore:
A globe bathed in light,
A chalkboard blooming with equations-
I have never seen the likes of you,
Pioneer in dark glasses:
You won't show the mob your eyes,
But I know your gaze,
Steady-on-the-North-Star, burning-
With their jerry-rigged faith,
Their spear on the American flag,
How could they dare to believe
You're someone sacred?:
Nigger, burr-headed girl,
Where are you going?
I'm just going to school.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Adventures in Little Rock - Vol. 2
My apartment is haunted.
I know what you're thinking. "Oh Andi, you're so overdramatic."
So I will explain the events as they unfolded....
I arrived on Monday and dropped my luggage off in my room (#7) and left immediately for a trip to the grocery store to stock my kitchen.
I returned to unload groceries and the apartment was frigid. Not just chilly... COLD. So, I went to turn on the heater.... and my A/C unit was dead.
No worries. I put in a call to the head honcho in charge of that stuff and he said he'd have a repairman out to take a look at it the next day. When I returned from rehearsal, there were four space heaters in my apartment to get me through the night.
Fast forward to Friday.
I got a call that the repairman had to go on the roof to inspect the unit and found that mine (and only mine) had been hit by lightning.
Wow. Crazy. But not too creepy... yet.
It'll be a while before I have actual heat, so the space heaters are destined to be my friends for the next few chilly nights.
I returned to my apartment after rehearsal on Friday and promptly made myself a BLT (without the T - 'cuz I hate raw tomatoes) and sat down to watch 'my channel' - Investigation Discovery.
I was just getting to the details of an 'unexplained disappearance' on the show when I heard a 'pop' and the TV went out. Along with my ceiling fan. No big deal. Prolly just flipped a breaker or something, right? Nope... it was just the fan and the outlet that my TV was plugged into. Everything else on that breaker was working fine. I switched the power cord to another outlet and the TV popped right back on to the same channel I had been watching.
And that's when the weirdness started.
The TV flipped out and started changing channels on it's own - landing on some random channel with a movie I recognized - The Crucible. It tuned in just in time to see John Proctor's hanging.
Okay, a little heebie-jeebie-ish, admittedly. But at least the programming had spared me from the performance of Winona Ryder in that piece of schlock.
I scanned the room for the remote control and the instant my eyes found it, the TV popped off again.
I called Lillian, who drowsily answers the phone, and tell her that I think my apartment is haunted. She immediately responds with, "Don't say that! #7 was MY apartment last time I was here and I thought the same thing!!" We giggle a bit and I let her go, since she has to get up early... and return to the task of entertaining myself without my beloved television.
The power cord for the TV wouldn't reach any of the other outlets in the living room, so I opened my laptop and decided to check email and chat with my girl on Facebook instead. It was getting close to bedtime anyhow.
I started chatting with a full battery on my laptop (good for a few hours of basic browsing) and about ten minutes later, I got a low battery warning. Only 9% left. Odd.
I plugged it in so it could run on outlet power instead. About five minutes later, I got a warning that the battery was no longer charging. The outlet had gone dead.
(Insert theme from Twilight Zone.)
I plugged it into another outlet. About five minutes later, that one went dead... along with the remaining light in my living room.
The same scenario repeated as I chased the outlets through the hallway and into the bedroom... only to have them fail after five to ten minutes.
I finally settled on my bed, using the outlet in my bathroom to plug in the laptop. The ONLY outlet in the entire apartment that works... and it is now 2am local time. I have power in my bathroom... and power to my fridge and the light above the stove. That's it. Everything else in the apartment had gone dead. (Goodbye to my space heaters as well.)
After chatting well into the morning, I decided it was time to get some sleep. Since my clock wasn't working, I set the alarm on my phone to go off at 10am. It is now decidedly chilly in the apartment, so I bundle up with the heavy comforter and drift off to sleep.
At 8am, I was startled awake by a loud bang in my living room. I got up to inspect... only to find that my TV was on. (Incidentally tuned back to the ID network that I'd been watching before all the craziness started.) I turned off the TV and padded back to the bedroom, figuring that my power was back. I went to plug in my phone so it could charge a bit... only to discover the outlets still weren't working in my bedroom. So, I walk on back to the living room to plug it in to the TV outlet - 'cuz obviously that's working.
Only it's not.
WTF?
I also realized at that moment that I was sweaty... and it dawned on me that the apartment was no longer chilly. It was hot. Like a summer in Arizona hot. Stagnant, oppressive hot.
I go to open the windows in the living room that I've opened and closed half a dozen times already... and they're stuck. Both of 'em. I can't open the windows!!
I finally get my bathroom window open and lay back down for another hour (because I'm tired and haven't slept very long or very well at this point). Before I crash, I call Peter (the head honcho who has been orchestrating the repairs and maintenance of our living quarters) and leave a message letting him know the power in my apartment has gone wonky. I curl up on my bed (no covers, 'cuz it's still really warm) and doze when my phone rings about half an hour later.
It's Peter and he instructs me to go through the motions of flipping the breakers back and forth. Nothing happens on the first or second tries. The third one works and the apartment comes to life with a click and a hum...
Now here's the thing... I only flipped the living room breaker. But ALL of the power came back on. The living room, bedroom, and kitchen... even though they're all on separate switches.
It's after 10am and sunlight is flooding the apartment, so it's too bright to get the true creepy creepers, but my hair was standing up on end all the same. My mind kept flashing to Cusak in the movie 1408, which only succeeded in creeping me out more.
It can all be explained away, of course. It's an older building. The wiring could be faulty, etc, etc...
In the meantime, I'm making sure that I charge the battery for the video camera in case there are any more strange occurrences.
If I disappear into the vortex that is apartment #7, I will at least have left an account of the goings-on... and Lillian will totally back me up.
She named the ghost Steve.
On nights like last night, though... I really wish I had my dog. Or some holy water. Just for peace of mind.
Oh, Little Rock... you quirky, creepy little town. I like you. :)
Stay tuned for the next adventures...
I know what you're thinking. "Oh Andi, you're so overdramatic."
So I will explain the events as they unfolded....
I arrived on Monday and dropped my luggage off in my room (#7) and left immediately for a trip to the grocery store to stock my kitchen.
I returned to unload groceries and the apartment was frigid. Not just chilly... COLD. So, I went to turn on the heater.... and my A/C unit was dead.
No worries. I put in a call to the head honcho in charge of that stuff and he said he'd have a repairman out to take a look at it the next day. When I returned from rehearsal, there were four space heaters in my apartment to get me through the night.
Fast forward to Friday.
I got a call that the repairman had to go on the roof to inspect the unit and found that mine (and only mine) had been hit by lightning.
Wow. Crazy. But not too creepy... yet.
It'll be a while before I have actual heat, so the space heaters are destined to be my friends for the next few chilly nights.
I returned to my apartment after rehearsal on Friday and promptly made myself a BLT (without the T - 'cuz I hate raw tomatoes) and sat down to watch 'my channel' - Investigation Discovery.
I was just getting to the details of an 'unexplained disappearance' on the show when I heard a 'pop' and the TV went out. Along with my ceiling fan. No big deal. Prolly just flipped a breaker or something, right? Nope... it was just the fan and the outlet that my TV was plugged into. Everything else on that breaker was working fine. I switched the power cord to another outlet and the TV popped right back on to the same channel I had been watching.
And that's when the weirdness started.
The TV flipped out and started changing channels on it's own - landing on some random channel with a movie I recognized - The Crucible. It tuned in just in time to see John Proctor's hanging.
Okay, a little heebie-jeebie-ish, admittedly. But at least the programming had spared me from the performance of Winona Ryder in that piece of schlock.
I scanned the room for the remote control and the instant my eyes found it, the TV popped off again.
I called Lillian, who drowsily answers the phone, and tell her that I think my apartment is haunted. She immediately responds with, "Don't say that! #7 was MY apartment last time I was here and I thought the same thing!!" We giggle a bit and I let her go, since she has to get up early... and return to the task of entertaining myself without my beloved television.
The power cord for the TV wouldn't reach any of the other outlets in the living room, so I opened my laptop and decided to check email and chat with my girl on Facebook instead. It was getting close to bedtime anyhow.
I started chatting with a full battery on my laptop (good for a few hours of basic browsing) and about ten minutes later, I got a low battery warning. Only 9% left. Odd.
I plugged it in so it could run on outlet power instead. About five minutes later, I got a warning that the battery was no longer charging. The outlet had gone dead.
(Insert theme from Twilight Zone.)
I plugged it into another outlet. About five minutes later, that one went dead... along with the remaining light in my living room.
The same scenario repeated as I chased the outlets through the hallway and into the bedroom... only to have them fail after five to ten minutes.
I finally settled on my bed, using the outlet in my bathroom to plug in the laptop. The ONLY outlet in the entire apartment that works... and it is now 2am local time. I have power in my bathroom... and power to my fridge and the light above the stove. That's it. Everything else in the apartment had gone dead. (Goodbye to my space heaters as well.)
After chatting well into the morning, I decided it was time to get some sleep. Since my clock wasn't working, I set the alarm on my phone to go off at 10am. It is now decidedly chilly in the apartment, so I bundle up with the heavy comforter and drift off to sleep.
At 8am, I was startled awake by a loud bang in my living room. I got up to inspect... only to find that my TV was on. (Incidentally tuned back to the ID network that I'd been watching before all the craziness started.) I turned off the TV and padded back to the bedroom, figuring that my power was back. I went to plug in my phone so it could charge a bit... only to discover the outlets still weren't working in my bedroom. So, I walk on back to the living room to plug it in to the TV outlet - 'cuz obviously that's working.
Only it's not.
WTF?
I also realized at that moment that I was sweaty... and it dawned on me that the apartment was no longer chilly. It was hot. Like a summer in Arizona hot. Stagnant, oppressive hot.
I go to open the windows in the living room that I've opened and closed half a dozen times already... and they're stuck. Both of 'em. I can't open the windows!!
I finally get my bathroom window open and lay back down for another hour (because I'm tired and haven't slept very long or very well at this point). Before I crash, I call Peter (the head honcho who has been orchestrating the repairs and maintenance of our living quarters) and leave a message letting him know the power in my apartment has gone wonky. I curl up on my bed (no covers, 'cuz it's still really warm) and doze when my phone rings about half an hour later.
It's Peter and he instructs me to go through the motions of flipping the breakers back and forth. Nothing happens on the first or second tries. The third one works and the apartment comes to life with a click and a hum...
Now here's the thing... I only flipped the living room breaker. But ALL of the power came back on. The living room, bedroom, and kitchen... even though they're all on separate switches.
It's after 10am and sunlight is flooding the apartment, so it's too bright to get the true creepy creepers, but my hair was standing up on end all the same. My mind kept flashing to Cusak in the movie 1408, which only succeeded in creeping me out more.
It can all be explained away, of course. It's an older building. The wiring could be faulty, etc, etc...
In the meantime, I'm making sure that I charge the battery for the video camera in case there are any more strange occurrences.
If I disappear into the vortex that is apartment #7, I will at least have left an account of the goings-on... and Lillian will totally back me up.
She named the ghost Steve.
On nights like last night, though... I really wish I had my dog. Or some holy water. Just for peace of mind.
Oh, Little Rock... you quirky, creepy little town. I like you. :)
Stay tuned for the next adventures...
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Adventures in Little Rock - Vol. 1
It is a little-known fact that actors have to be able to travel - and travel well - on occasions.
We often book gigs out of town, which means that just like any businessman (or woman), we end up with our own processes of packing (often bringing just the barest essentials) and operating from a foreign location.
I was thinking about this as I packed my two suitcases to the absolute brim with enough clothes to make it through a couple of weeks as well as my "show gear" which includes my entire makeup case, rehearsal shoes, tights, 'show bras', script, music, etc. Now, while I've gone out of town to do shows before, I think this is actually the longest out-of-town run that I've done to date. I have been spoiled rotten.
True to form, I overpacked.
Not only do I actually have enough clothes (I packed a ton - including more panties than I even knew I owned) but I also packed my laptop, my video camera, my still camera, two research books for a project I'm writing, five fiction books, my knitting, scores of sheet music (to whittle down for season general auditions this year), six pairs of shoes, a blow-dryer, two curling irons and a flatiron.
BOTH of my suitcases required a good amount of pushing, pulling and sitting to get them comfortably closed and secured. In addition to that, it was clear that one of my bags was quite obviously over 50lbs. (The weight limit for United's luggage policy.) I packed and repacked to redistribute some of the weight, but it just wasn't working. I could tell that the larger suitcase was over 50lbs, but there was nothing I could do. I hoped beyond hope that I'd end up in a long line with impatient TSA agents who didn't want to weigh them, but figured I'd be paying through the nose once I got there.
It was 6:30am on Monday when Jay dropped me off at the airport. With my heavy bags and such, I figured it'd be easier to let the skycap at the curb hook me up, so as Jay and I said our goodbyes, I made eye contact with the tall, handsome fellah at the counter - indicating that I was gonna be moving his way next. He asked where I was headed and set about checking me in as he grabbed the larger of the two bags. I watched his face as he lifted it and our eyes met at that instant - there was no way to hide the fact that I knew the bag was heavy. I knew. He knew I knew. There was no way out.
And so he said, "You're aware of the fees for checking bags?"
And I said, "Yessir. If I could have fit it all into one bag, I would have."
And he said, "Well, this one feels like it might be a bit overweight."
And I said, "Sssshhhhhh! The bag will hear you!"
Then I continued, "You see, my luggage is simply experiencing the sympathetic symptoms of MY being overweight and 'between sizes' right now. Something I hope we'll both be able to remedy in the upcoming weeks. I certainly don't want my baggage being penalized because of my baggage."
(ending with a wink and a flash of the Watson smile - complete with dimples)
He charged me for my two bags. No overweight baggage fee.
God bless that beautiful black man and his sense of humor/pity on a poor actress.
And so I was on my way! I made it through security without TSA pawing through my backpack or feeling me up. Which is kind-of a disappointment. I got so used to having my carry-on handchecked at security that I started putting random items in my carry-on just for fun. Nothing contraband... just goofy or odd. Like a random pair of panties - which is actually practical in case you DO get separated from your luggage - or a single sock, a bizarre book, etc.
Since I printed my boarding passes online and flew through security without any trouble, I had about an hour and a half to kill before boarding. Enter my favorite airport game: People Watching!!!
Unfortunately, the pickings are pretty slim at 6:30 am. The usual business travelers - identified by their business suits and lack of luggage (save for the leather overnight bag or the custom case for their laptops), the occasional families or couples dotting the hectic-yet-barren landscape, and the random cute kid here and there.
I quickly grew bored and decided to pop open my book instead. Just as I was engrossed in the story before me, a woman stopped directly in front of me. I saw her boots first and looked up to see a slender woman in her 40's who looked like a cross between Joan Jett and Stevie Nicks. Skinny jeans tucked into knee-high caramel boots, layered tanks and a black leather jacket. Our eyes met and she gave a 'Hrmph', turned on her heel, and walked away briskly.
"Hrmph?" What did that mean?
She had a curious inflection, as if to say, "Well, isn't that strange/interesting/bizarre?"
I looked around, but no one else was close by.
I dismissed it as a case of "she-thought-I-was-someone-else" syndrome and let it go... but obviously I'm still puzzled by the random stranger 'Hrmph-ing' at me.
We boarded without incident (this was the first leg of my flight from Phx to Denver to Arkansas) and I ended up in an aisle seat.
To my left (across the aisle) was a mom with a 4-month-old baby. I groaned inwardly, and felt guilty for it when the baby turned out to be a champ of a li'l traveler. He fussed for all of 30 seconds before mom popped a bottle in his mouth and rocked him to sleep.
To my right was a (very) large woman who was occupying both of the seats next to me. Both the window and the middle seat were taken up by her right and left butt-cheeks, respectively. I gave a friendly 'Hello' as I sat down. She somehow said 'Hi' without moving her mouth and promptly gave me her back as she fiddled with the window shade.
About five minutes into our flight she opened her carry-on and started munching on the foulest smelling corn nuts EVER. I decided to try to nap and let my head loll attractively to my left side so as to avoid drooling over my seatmate should I fall asleep.
I began to doze, but woke to the announcement of beverage service just as the party gal to my right was opening a package of licorice.
Now, having been a hefty girl myself for a good period of time, I'm generally not concerned with the eating habits of others. At my top weight, I was 209lbs. I ate when I was anxious, stressed, lonely, bored or sad. I understand how easy it is to let bad habits spiral and how hard it is to face the disappointment or condemnation of loved ones and strangers alike. (I replaced comfort-eating with comfort-smoking, so it's not like the underlying issues magically disappeared in my life. I certainly ain't no poster child for healthy living.)
HOWEVER, I watched this lady eat cornnuts, Red Vines, Chips, cookies, and what looked like a Moon Pie (I love those!) within the first 15-20 minutes of our flight. I dozed off again and was again woken when the flight attendant reached past me to hand my traveling companion a Coke. She looked at it, frowned, and handed it back to the gal with, "No, a DIET Coke, please."
I didn't mean to, but my mouth gaped open before I was conscious that I was now staring at her. I'm sure my face had the expression of, "Really?" I almost laughed out loud in spite of myself.
I'm a judgmental asshole, I know.
And while I'm on the subject... While waiting at the Denver airport to board the flight to Little Rock, my darling friend Lillian arrived and saved me from boredom with cheery chit-chat and catching up on the last few months since we've seen each other. We were deep into our gossip session when a woman in her late 40's to early 50's skipped by - yes, skipped - wearing green running shorts (circa 1970) white tube socks with a green stripe at the top (also circa 1970) a white T-shirt and pigtails. Yes, pigtails... adorned with curly green and white ribbons. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and explained to Lillian that she must be a Girl Scout troupe leader. It is cookie season, after all. I don't know if she's eligible for 'fashion forgiveness', but I do have to applaud her for her ability to skip through an airport without a care in the world. Even if I raised an eyebrow at her choice of hairstyle, I had to smile at the real-life 'Baby Jane' phenom.
We arrived in Little Rock on-time and were greeted by some of the friendliest production staff ever - and some of the unfriendliest storm clouds. It was rainy and cold, but there was still a buzz of energy in the air as we met new friends, reunited with old ones and set off to embark on the adventure that is 'Hairspray' in Arkansas.
So far, the cast is incredibly gorgeous - and they sound as good as they look!! Everyone has been so friendly and open-armed that it feels like coming home, even though I'm in a foreign town. I miss the kids, I miss the cats, I miss the dog, I miss my bed... and I would miss Jason, except for the fact that I've found a suitable replacement here in the South...
Sweet tea.
Glorious, delicious, refreshing, make-my-mouth-so-happy-I-want-to-bathe-in-it, nectar of the gods.
Sweet tea is my new BFF.
At least for the next nine weeks. :)
Stay tuned for the next chapter in the continuing saga. Or don't.
(It's not like I'll know.)
Peace and pigtails, friends.
We often book gigs out of town, which means that just like any businessman (or woman), we end up with our own processes of packing (often bringing just the barest essentials) and operating from a foreign location.
I was thinking about this as I packed my two suitcases to the absolute brim with enough clothes to make it through a couple of weeks as well as my "show gear" which includes my entire makeup case, rehearsal shoes, tights, 'show bras', script, music, etc. Now, while I've gone out of town to do shows before, I think this is actually the longest out-of-town run that I've done to date. I have been spoiled rotten.
True to form, I overpacked.
Not only do I actually have enough clothes (I packed a ton - including more panties than I even knew I owned) but I also packed my laptop, my video camera, my still camera, two research books for a project I'm writing, five fiction books, my knitting, scores of sheet music (to whittle down for season general auditions this year), six pairs of shoes, a blow-dryer, two curling irons and a flatiron.
BOTH of my suitcases required a good amount of pushing, pulling and sitting to get them comfortably closed and secured. In addition to that, it was clear that one of my bags was quite obviously over 50lbs. (The weight limit for United's luggage policy.) I packed and repacked to redistribute some of the weight, but it just wasn't working. I could tell that the larger suitcase was over 50lbs, but there was nothing I could do. I hoped beyond hope that I'd end up in a long line with impatient TSA agents who didn't want to weigh them, but figured I'd be paying through the nose once I got there.
It was 6:30am on Monday when Jay dropped me off at the airport. With my heavy bags and such, I figured it'd be easier to let the skycap at the curb hook me up, so as Jay and I said our goodbyes, I made eye contact with the tall, handsome fellah at the counter - indicating that I was gonna be moving his way next. He asked where I was headed and set about checking me in as he grabbed the larger of the two bags. I watched his face as he lifted it and our eyes met at that instant - there was no way to hide the fact that I knew the bag was heavy. I knew. He knew I knew. There was no way out.
And so he said, "You're aware of the fees for checking bags?"
And I said, "Yessir. If I could have fit it all into one bag, I would have."
And he said, "Well, this one feels like it might be a bit overweight."
And I said, "Sssshhhhhh! The bag will hear you!"
Then I continued, "You see, my luggage is simply experiencing the sympathetic symptoms of MY being overweight and 'between sizes' right now. Something I hope we'll both be able to remedy in the upcoming weeks. I certainly don't want my baggage being penalized because of my baggage."
(ending with a wink and a flash of the Watson smile - complete with dimples)
He charged me for my two bags. No overweight baggage fee.
God bless that beautiful black man and his sense of humor/pity on a poor actress.
And so I was on my way! I made it through security without TSA pawing through my backpack or feeling me up. Which is kind-of a disappointment. I got so used to having my carry-on handchecked at security that I started putting random items in my carry-on just for fun. Nothing contraband... just goofy or odd. Like a random pair of panties - which is actually practical in case you DO get separated from your luggage - or a single sock, a bizarre book, etc.
Since I printed my boarding passes online and flew through security without any trouble, I had about an hour and a half to kill before boarding. Enter my favorite airport game: People Watching!!!
Unfortunately, the pickings are pretty slim at 6:30 am. The usual business travelers - identified by their business suits and lack of luggage (save for the leather overnight bag or the custom case for their laptops), the occasional families or couples dotting the hectic-yet-barren landscape, and the random cute kid here and there.
I quickly grew bored and decided to pop open my book instead. Just as I was engrossed in the story before me, a woman stopped directly in front of me. I saw her boots first and looked up to see a slender woman in her 40's who looked like a cross between Joan Jett and Stevie Nicks. Skinny jeans tucked into knee-high caramel boots, layered tanks and a black leather jacket. Our eyes met and she gave a 'Hrmph', turned on her heel, and walked away briskly.
"Hrmph?" What did that mean?
She had a curious inflection, as if to say, "Well, isn't that strange/interesting/bizarre?"
I looked around, but no one else was close by.
I dismissed it as a case of "she-thought-I-was-someone-else" syndrome and let it go... but obviously I'm still puzzled by the random stranger 'Hrmph-ing' at me.
We boarded without incident (this was the first leg of my flight from Phx to Denver to Arkansas) and I ended up in an aisle seat.
To my left (across the aisle) was a mom with a 4-month-old baby. I groaned inwardly, and felt guilty for it when the baby turned out to be a champ of a li'l traveler. He fussed for all of 30 seconds before mom popped a bottle in his mouth and rocked him to sleep.
To my right was a (very) large woman who was occupying both of the seats next to me. Both the window and the middle seat were taken up by her right and left butt-cheeks, respectively. I gave a friendly 'Hello' as I sat down. She somehow said 'Hi' without moving her mouth and promptly gave me her back as she fiddled with the window shade.
About five minutes into our flight she opened her carry-on and started munching on the foulest smelling corn nuts EVER. I decided to try to nap and let my head loll attractively to my left side so as to avoid drooling over my seatmate should I fall asleep.
I began to doze, but woke to the announcement of beverage service just as the party gal to my right was opening a package of licorice.
Now, having been a hefty girl myself for a good period of time, I'm generally not concerned with the eating habits of others. At my top weight, I was 209lbs. I ate when I was anxious, stressed, lonely, bored or sad. I understand how easy it is to let bad habits spiral and how hard it is to face the disappointment or condemnation of loved ones and strangers alike. (I replaced comfort-eating with comfort-smoking, so it's not like the underlying issues magically disappeared in my life. I certainly ain't no poster child for healthy living.)
HOWEVER, I watched this lady eat cornnuts, Red Vines, Chips, cookies, and what looked like a Moon Pie (I love those!) within the first 15-20 minutes of our flight. I dozed off again and was again woken when the flight attendant reached past me to hand my traveling companion a Coke. She looked at it, frowned, and handed it back to the gal with, "No, a DIET Coke, please."
I didn't mean to, but my mouth gaped open before I was conscious that I was now staring at her. I'm sure my face had the expression of, "Really?" I almost laughed out loud in spite of myself.
I'm a judgmental asshole, I know.
And while I'm on the subject... While waiting at the Denver airport to board the flight to Little Rock, my darling friend Lillian arrived and saved me from boredom with cheery chit-chat and catching up on the last few months since we've seen each other. We were deep into our gossip session when a woman in her late 40's to early 50's skipped by - yes, skipped - wearing green running shorts (circa 1970) white tube socks with a green stripe at the top (also circa 1970) a white T-shirt and pigtails. Yes, pigtails... adorned with curly green and white ribbons. I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and explained to Lillian that she must be a Girl Scout troupe leader. It is cookie season, after all. I don't know if she's eligible for 'fashion forgiveness', but I do have to applaud her for her ability to skip through an airport without a care in the world. Even if I raised an eyebrow at her choice of hairstyle, I had to smile at the real-life 'Baby Jane' phenom.
We arrived in Little Rock on-time and were greeted by some of the friendliest production staff ever - and some of the unfriendliest storm clouds. It was rainy and cold, but there was still a buzz of energy in the air as we met new friends, reunited with old ones and set off to embark on the adventure that is 'Hairspray' in Arkansas.
So far, the cast is incredibly gorgeous - and they sound as good as they look!! Everyone has been so friendly and open-armed that it feels like coming home, even though I'm in a foreign town. I miss the kids, I miss the cats, I miss the dog, I miss my bed... and I would miss Jason, except for the fact that I've found a suitable replacement here in the South...
Sweet tea.
Glorious, delicious, refreshing, make-my-mouth-so-happy-I-want-to-bathe-in-it, nectar of the gods.
Sweet tea is my new BFF.
At least for the next nine weeks. :)
Stay tuned for the next chapter in the continuing saga. Or don't.
(It's not like I'll know.)
Peace and pigtails, friends.
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