cats and trees

I bought a tree.  A small wonky Charlie Brown kind of tree that tilts very much to one side.  It's decorated mostly with ornaments purchased from Longs or Walgreens.  It's modest but it's ours and the lights at night make for a very warm holiday atmosphere.  I love our little tree.  

And we have a kitten.  Molly.  Well, I suppose she's a cat now because she's over a year old but she certainly looks like a kitten.  And behaves like a kitten.  And she's just the cutest little thing in the world.  Like a kitten.  

Anyway.  I'm sitting here on the couch checking email, etc.  Okay, I'm stalking on facebook, whatever, when I hear the jingle jangling of Christmas bells.  And lo and behold, our precious Molly is batting away at our bell ornaments.  It's adorable but shouldn't really be condoned so I pick her up and move her away.

And two minutes later...she's back.  Jingle jangle.  Bat bat bat.  So again with the picking up and moving.  This time a soft 'Meow' let's me know she's not happy with the relocating.

And two minutes later...the cat came back!  This time I'm armed.  With a water spray bottle.  A quick squirt and she runs away from the tree lickity split.  Now there's a phrase we need to bring back.  Lickity split.  Anyway, she tried a few more times to attack the tree and was rewarded with a squirt each time.   Finally, she surrendered.  The tree is safe.  And now, Molly's sitting in my large dry purse gazing with reverence at our lopsided tree and looking adorable as always.  Perhaps I should take a picture.  For our card next year.  

Yeah right.  Like we'll ever get our act together enough to send holiday cards.

Goodbye Raleigh

So last week I went to Raleigh to pack up my house.  That's right.  The beautiful fully furnished house that has been leased for the past two years has now been sold and so I had to go tend to things.  Decisions had to be made.  What to keep.  What to sell.  What to give Bill Brown to haul away.  And I was eager to do these things.  Eager to see old friends.  To see my old home once again.

I wasn't prepared for the difficulties.  It's hard to say goodbye.  4206 Camden Woods Court was my first house.  Mike and I first lived together under that roof.  

We barbecued on that deck.  

 

 

Laura, Joanna and I danced to Jet in that kitchen. 

We watched the super bowl (commercials) on that TV.  

We laid awake at night listening as the Korean church youth group let out and the teenagers would linger in their parking lot, not wanting to say goodbye.  Hoping to spend just a few more minutes with their friends before getting in their cars and heading home.  

I used to walk around that neighborhood (but not too far north, Heather, cause that's the hood!).   That was my home.  And oh how I will miss it.

The bright side is that all our kitchen stuff (like the fabulous cheese grater) and some new furniture my dad bought for the place (like an awesome leather couch) will be shipped out here to our apartment so we can do some redecorating which is always fun.  

The downside, or rather the reason to give pause, is that our beautiful three bedroom, two and a half bath house with a garage, deck, attic, dishwasher, laundry, hardwood floors, etc., only costs $100 dollars more a month than our one bedroom apartment in San Carlos.  Isn't that incredible?!  

It was so hard to pack up and leave that place.  And I visited Meredith College, where I used to work, and thought, 'I could totally work here!'.  And I visited with friends and thought, 'Wow, this is nice!'.   And for a moment I let myself fall back into that life and it felt GOOD!  Hell, it felt GREAT!  But it only lasted a moment.  Because the reality is that I don't want that life.  Well, not right now.  I want to be in San Carlos (or close to it) and I want to be a working actress and I want to get married here in the Bay Area.  And if that means trading a three bedroom for a one bedroom then so be it.  I mean, really, it's all about location right?  And in that category we've totally got Raleigh beat.  

Still, I will miss it.

And Mike did say that if we ever wanted to we could definitely move back.  

So there's always room for maybe.  Someday.

The book is always better

It's inevitable.

You read a book.  You fall in love.  The characters are so romantic.  So wonderfully flawed.  So unique.  The dialogue is witty.  The story is timeless.  It's hopeful.  It's legendary.  It's audience is worldwide and it's hype is monumental.  

So, of course, they make a movie.  They get a lot of pretty people to star in it.  They get some popular pop rock band to write a theme song and we line up, money in hand, expectations soaring.

And we are always disappointed.

Well, not always.

What is the formula?  How do we transform the amazing story that we experienced on paper into a cinematic reality and remain true to the integrity of the work?  What are the necessary components to satisfy the audience's high hopes?

It's worked before.  The Client.  Loved the book.  Loved the movie.  The only real discrepancy was that in the book the guy drove a Caddy and in the film it was a Buick.  Or vice verse.  Anyway, it was a great film rendition of the book.  

And the Harry Potter films.  What do we think of them?  Well, they are entertaining, sure, and after the first two came out a little tame and lame, they stepped up and got the budgets for some really fun sequences.  But are they as good as the books?  Do they really do the story justice?  In my opinion, not really.

Lord of the Rings...good, but not as good as the books.  Where was Tom Bombadil?!  

The Other Boleyn Girl?  Not even close.

The Divinci Code?  Don't even get me started.

Is it that the movie makers get it wrong? Or are stories just better when written?  

Recently I watched Atonement.  I have never read the book.  I wanted to I just never got around to it.  But I've got a Netflix account so the movie showed up last week and I watched it.  I loved it!  The acting.  The story.  The directing.  The cinematography.  The soundtrack!!  Oh, that soundtrack, with the typing and the violins.  Everything came together for an amazing cinematic effect and I enjoyed every moment of it.  Now, friends of mine who had read the book claimed disappointment after seeing the movie but I had nothing to judge it against and therefor had no expectations.  I was free to enjoy the film with no agenda.  And enjoy it I did.  

I never read the Notebook and actually avoided seeing the movie for years but when I finally broke down and watched it, I loved it.  No expectations.

So what's the answer?  Why do some movie versions turn out great and others are disastrous?

No idea.

So, kids, I guess what I'm saying is live life with no expectations and you'll never be disappointed!  And always see the movie before you read the book.

And never come to me for answers.  What do I know?

Road Rage

I consider myself a mild mannered person.  
And I realize I'm wrong.  I'm neither mild nor mannered but I CONSIDER myself to be thus. Whether you agree or not, I hope you would concur that I am not an angry person.  Of that I am certain.  I am passionate, yes.  Impatient at times.  But not angry.

Until I am sitting behind a car going 65 in the fast lane and ignoring the fact that I've shot up behind them going 75 and am (im)patiently waiting for them to move over.  Waiting and I do not get along well.  And suddenly I have RAGE!

How did I not know this about myself?  I can only assume that I've always been an impatient driver, though this may not be the case.  I can remember in high school driving in a very timid fashion.  In fact, I'm sure I was just a horrible driver.  I was the one going 65 in the fast lane and it never occurred to me to move out of the way.  So when did I become this person?  This 'Go Go Speed Racer'?  I guess life is busier now.  Things are more important.  I mean, in college I took the subway.  In North Carolina...well, I had a ten minute commute.   So I guess I never really had a chance to develop this condition until now.  It's the weirdest thing ever.  I am my normal sweet self (shut up) and then, suddenly, a flip is switched, or rather a switch is flipped, and I'm psycho.  I yell at people.  I get angry.  SO FRUSTRATED!  Inconsiderate drivers bug the HELL out of me!

And I think I just figured out why.

I blame Mike.

Before Mike, I was ignorant to some of the annoyances one experiences while on the road.  But Mike is a VERY considerate driver.  I mean, he'll stop for that pedestrian that you're not quite sure whether they're gonna walk or not.  He stops just to make sure.  Considerate, yeah?

Well, now that I've experienced how one should drive, I see the bad drivers EVERYWHERE!!  And I get SO ANNOYED!  Ignorance is bliss, my friends.  

And I'm not saying I'm a great driver now, no!  I annoy myself sometimes.  Because I still make the convenient assumption that the pedestrian is NOT going to cross the street so I can go on my cheery way.  

At any rate, my rage must STOP!  So, to those of you out there who step into your own world once you step inside your vehicle, do me a solid and take a moment every now and then to take stock of the world around you and maybe if you see me behind you, with my face scrunched up into an expression of RAGE, maybe you move over and let me pass.  

Or...maybe I could just start listening to audio books so I could slip into my own little world behind the wheel and be oblivious to all you crappy drivers!

How about a little of column A and a little of column B.

Deal.

Scream Queens

I don't know if it's the Halloween season or the latest horrible reality TV show to hit the MTV airways, but lately I've been very keen to act in a B Horror film.  This has been a dream of mine since I first saw Halloween, the original with Ms. Jamie 'Queen of Scream' Curtis herself.  I LOVE horror movies.  The good suspense Hitchcock kind, the classic Steven King kind, the cheesy Wes Craven flicks, and the horrible no name actress, no name director, no budget, no clothes, no plot, one star kind they only show on the Sci-Fi channel at two in the morning.  I love 'em.  And I've ALWAYS wanted to be in one.

At first I wanted to be the heroine, the sole survivor who must forever carry her guilt and fear into countless sequels, because only then can you really cement your standing as a true Scream Queen.  Then I thought I'd love to be the villain.  The bad thing that goes bump in the night.  Oh, how much fun would that be?!  To rise from the dead or emerge from under some rock or out of some institution and unleash my torment on all those who put me away.  Fun, right?

Or the best friend who has all the witty comebacks and is apparently fearless in the face of death as she continually insists that the plain faced stick in the mud heroine go out to parties, crawl into attics, camp in the woods, or sleep with the wrong guy.  And then she dies a horrible and grisly death.  Totally fun.

So, I've been looking for opportunities to audition for a horror movie.  And they've been making a bunch recently.  All low budget no name flicks but hey, what do I care, right?  I just want to have some fun!  One problem.  I have yet to find an audition for a horror movie that does not require me to take my shirt off.

Really?!  It can't be one of those no nudity involved sort of movies?  I mean, seriously?!  You expect me to come to your 'studio' aka 'skanky apartment' and strip down to audition for a role in a 'horror movie' aka 'porno with a Halloween theme'?   Sigh.  And yuck.

So, I guess I'll have to wait until I'm a more legitimate actress to get my big break in the B Horror genre.  They still have horror movies without any nudity, right?  Right?!

Also, there's IS a horrible new reality TV show called Scream Queens and it makes me so sad.  These 'actresses' aka 'skanks' are competing to star in the latest SAW movies, not one of my favorites but still.  One of them gets to live my dream and all I'm getting is porn.  THEY should be in porn!  I miss Hitchcock. 

Tina

So I'm thinking this is the look I need for my wedding.  Yes?

Check out the hair!  Yes, it's all mine.

So, in actuality I was playing Tina in Tony N' Tina's Wedding but I'm thinking I can totally use some ideas from this for my own wedding.  I mean, if nothing else then definitely the hair!

Kids...Part 2

So, as previously stated, I have recently spent some time with an adorable one year old and an amazing five year old.  My niece, Elizabeth Marie, and my nephew, Nathaniel, live in Austin so I am  forced to cram all bonding time with them into five days for Christmas or a week for Easter, etc.  I've missed out on birthdays and first steps.  So it was really important for me to spend some quality time with them on this last trip.  I would be seeing them wake up every morning and putting them to sleep every night and I was so excited to make some memories with my two smallest family members.  

And, again, as previously stated, it was exhausting, indeed.  But also so rewarding.  And memories, they were made, my friends.

Nathaniel, as we were getting him dressed in the morning, said to me "Can I give you a hug?".  I said, "Yes, please" and he proceed to crawl into my lap and wrap his arms around me for a good old fashioned cuddle.  We sat like that for a few minutes talking about this or that and it felt so good to  have that connection.  

Little Libby has tried to say my name, I'm told.  True it's garbled and slightly incoherent but I've heard that she looked down from the deck to the lawn where I was running around with her brother and called out, "Aaa Neeeie" (clearly intended to be 'Aunt Stephie', as I am referred to by my family now).  And to see that girl smile when I walked in the room was enough to melt my heart.

We went on strolls where Nathaniel and I lamented about the 'Private Park' on our street, wishing we were among the select few who were deemed worthy to slide and swing.  We then went into planning mode, going over the designs for our own park, complete with water slide and the best monkey bars this side of the Amazon.  If you're nice to us then you can come play too but not you Christopher because you tease Nathaniel at school so you are not allowed.  That goes for the rest of you bullies, too.

And I found that Libby really likes for me to sing Motown and dance around the room with her in my arms.  And I'll never forget the first time she reached up for me to hold her.  Made me feel so good to feel her little arms wrap around my neck for a hug.  Kids are great.

So, exhausting?  Yes.  Amazing?  Completely!  One of my favorite trips to Austin, definitely.  And I'd do it again, Samantha.  Any time.  Thanks for letting me join in the fun.  Love you!!!

Kids

My sister got married last weekend and as a special gift to the newlyweds I decided to stay a few extra days and help watch their kids while they took a honeymoon.

I have never been more exhausted in my life.  I'm too tired to write silly anecdotes about the week.  I can't relate any stories as my brain is still mush.  Mike and I are thinking that being parents to our kitten is good enough.   For now.  For a very long time.

To all the parents out there, I salute you.  I don't know how you do it.

Warning: The following is a rant.

I don't know if you've noticed but so far my blog has been completely void of any political subject matter.  It's not that I don't care.  BELIEVE me, I do!  But I feel that we are inundated all day every day by propaganda on all fronts and I don'tneed to explore the subject at any length here.  Besides, my vote is decided and has been for a very long time so what is there to talk about, really?  And, I've really enjoyed all of the truly mundane things previously discussed in this blog.  Sometimes, especially during times such as these, it's nice to escape to a land of wall clocks and eighties rock.

Well, friends, I'm sorry to break the rules but here goes.

GAY MARRIAGE.

If you're against gay marriage then don't do it.  But why prevent others from doing it?  Who does gay marriage hurt?  The church?  Society?  That's a matter of opinion and has NOTHING to do with the law.  

I love America and here's why.  In America you are entitled to your opinion.  Entitled.  Express yourself.  Argue.  Debate.  Pick a cause to fight for and fight!  But why pick gay marriage? How does it affect your life if two men are declared 'Husband and Husband'?  I really don't get what the big deal is.  

If you do not approve of homosexuality because of religious reasons that's fine.  But there's a little thing called separation of Church and State.  Which means we cannot pass laws based on what Jesus said was right and wrong.  

And I love how people think gay marriage will lead to a new interpretation of the Constitution.  Kind of like it did when we included African Americans and Women.  What were we thinking?!

And I realize I'm ranting but when I see those ads to 'Vote yes on Prop 8!' I get so frustrated.  Aren't there more important issues we should be dealing with?  War?  Debt?  Education?  Health care?  Redefining the requirements for one to be chosen as a Vice President?  These are issues we should worry about.  

People say that gay marriage will destroy the sanctity of marriage.  I got news for them.  Divorce destroys the sanctity of marriage.  Literally.  You want to protect the sanctity, then outlaw divorce.   No?  Then shut up.

Aaaaaaaaaand rant DONE!

IKEA

Few people know this about me but before I wanted to be an actor, I wanted to be an interior designer.

I liked to act from the beginning but didn't know that it counted as a real job.  By the by, for thosew of you who still don't know, acting IS a real job.  When I was a kid, however, I thought I'd have to do something else to make money so I wanted to be an interior designer.  

I LOVE looking in people's houses.  Mike and I will go on walks at dusk when it's dark enough that people have their lights on but light enough that they haven't closed the drapes.  I peep.  Mike thinks it's rude and he's probably right but I can't help it.  I LOVE stealing a glimpse at this man's fireplace or that woman's sofa.  And I LOVE the architecture.  In fact I would have wanted to be an architect but for the math stuff.  Me no likey the math.  

But interiors...yessssssss.  I love it.  My mom and I used to wander through antique stores on the weekends and I used to picture the houses that belong with the furniture.  This chair belongs in an old colonial next to the fireplace while this table should sit in a breakfast nook under a picture window.  I especially liked when the store would set up a 'mock' room with the furniture.  This one is a bedroom, that one a kitchen, and here is a tea room.  I could choose the houses in which these rooms belonged.  Granted my imagination was limited to the houses that I had been inside so many of these rooms ended up in my mom's or my dad's or even Cary's houses but I still enjoyed my fantasies.

So imagine my joy when best friend Cary asked me to help decorate her new place.  YEA!  We talked about the space, I spent the week watching HGTV and then on Saturday we headed off to IKEA for some staple pieces.

I lOVE IKEA!

I had never been before this weekend.  Wow.  It's heaven.  There are little rooms all set up and decorated and complete with bathrooms and closets.  I LOVE it.  They have everything!  They have art work, office supplies, beds, kitchen cabinets...I'm in love.  Cary and I had a successful and fun mission and we left with two cartfuls so now I only have one question...

How can I get a job decorating the IKEA show rooms?

Suggestions?

Macy's Registration Extravagaza!

So, Macy's had a wedding registry party on Wednesday night.  

"From six til nine, mocktails and appetizers will be served and don't forget your parting gift!"  

I take my mother because, let's face it, Mike would rather have his ear sawed off than attend an event such as this. However, I do not want Mike to be completely out of the loop so we consult on what he'd like, colors to steer away from, china patterns that he finds mildly desirable, etc. and I am off to Union Square to have some fun with my mom.  Shopping without spending any money?!  And mocktails to boot!  Sounds like a fantastic night out in the city.

We arrive fashionably late and make our way up to the sixth floor where the extravaganza will begin.  We are greeted with the pulsing sounds of some pop remix emitting from the speakers flanking a DJ booth which seems slighting out of place amid the Waterford Crystal vases and the Lennox stemware.

We check in and proceed to a kiosk where we get entered into the system and then they give us the scanner!  I am mildly disappointed that said scanner is some flat taser looking device and not the gun that we were promised but tasers are cool too so I let it go.

It is fun going around scanning items.  We only get tripped up a couple of times but we manage to figure it all out in the end.  It is just very surreal to listen to Justin Timberlake singing Sexy Back while I'm sipping on some delicious grapefruit and orange juice concoction deciding between the Tuscany and the Country Stemware.  Who am I?

And looking around at the other couples, I am glad that Mike stayed home.  There are two kinds of couples present: 

1. The tired bored looking grooms following their brides around, laden with glasses and paperwork, who occasionally bicker with their brides-to-be over the uselessness of some vase or picture frame.  

2. The uber grooms who have an opinion about everything and for the most part cannot agree on a single thing with their brides.  Yikes!  

We see one couple who, though they appear a tad sleepy at the end of the evening, leave holding hands and smiling.  That's promising.  If you can get through a day of registration shopping and not be completely sick of each other than you've got something special all right.  

I manage to skip the registration trauma altogether by leaving groom boy happily at home so I get to spend an evening with my mother who makes everything so much fun.  She is patient and helpful during the long and tedious task of scanning all our Fiestaware by hand to ensure a wide variety of color and she keeps us focused so I don't get overwhelmed.

By the end of the evening we are nexhausted and dehydrated (Macy's air conditioning is not functional at the moment) so luckily Rose, our lovely consultant who checks us out, is delightful.   We leave with our goody bags, smiles on our faces, and a grand sense of accomplishment.  

Contented sigh.

But seriously the music was weird.

I bought you a wall clock!

Gifts are fun.  We like to receive them.  We like to give them.  Gifting is good times all around.

Unless it's a bad gift.  Or a ridiculously expensive gift from someone you didn't get a gift for and now you feel completely taken off guard and end up buying said Gifter some overly priced piece of shit from the Museum Store to settle up.  Because that's what we're doing sometimes when we gift, isn't it?  We're trying to keep the score even.  Aunt Lucy gave me socks last year so she gets a candle this year.  Whereas the mailman surprised me with a homemade batch of cookies so he gets warm cocoa and a crisp twenty when he comes by this year.  It's not supposed to be this way, right?  Gifting is about treating someone you care about to something you think they'll enjoy.  Well, at least it should be.

Too often we get wrapped up price tags and the expense of a thing rather than what the thing has to offer in the first place.  I know some people, who shall remain nameless, who don't enjoy Christmas because of the stress of the season.  They can't get on board with a holiday that gives them errands.  Give me Thanksgiving, they say, with it's simple "Let's all enjoy each other's company and eat much food" theme.  It's hard to argue with that.

Christmas gifting can be overwhelming.  Or birthday gifting when you're unsure if a card, a beer, or a present from Tiffany's will suffice.  And in today's economy we can't afford to spend money on frivolous things.  So I introdue an alternative.

Mike and I received a gift the other day.  We were not growing older nor were we moving into a new house.  We were not expecting anything.  Yet a thing arrived.  It was a wall clock from our dear friend Rachel.  It had our picture on it.  It looked like this:

Our Wall Clock

Rachel and I had been joking about getting our friend Annie a wall clock as a gift while on our way to Chapel Hill for her wedding.  And the joke continued the rest of the weekend much to the dismay of our friends who do not always get our special brand of humor.

When a package came in the mail three weeks later I was confused.  Then I saw the wall clock and I burst out laughing.  There were our faces on a wall clock!

The gift was simple, unexpected, inexpensive, and brilliant.  It didn't require a gift in response, it's useful, it's humorous, and it reminds us of the giver whenever we see it and we smile.

It's the perfect gift.

So this holiday season, and watch out because it's coming up sooner than you think, let's say that less is more but fun is better.  Gifting should not be a chore, it should be a pleasure.  So shop and smile, friends.  Shop and smile.

You're lucky you have a real job

So acting is an odd profession and here's why.  Any other profession, if you are good at what you do and you want to do it, YOU CAN!  

Simple math equation.  Skill plus desire equals JOB!  S + D = JOB!!

In the acting world this is not so.  I can be a great actress who really wants a job and not get it.  In fact this happens more often than not.  More often than not I am told no.  People look at me day in and day out and say no.  No, you're not good enough. No, we don't want you.  No, too fat.  No, too old.  No, too pretty.  (I get that last one all the time).

And I keep doing it!  I have to!  Rejection is the biggest part of my job.  The more people that tell me no the closer I am to the yes.  

How many of you would still be doing what you're doing if someone didn't hire you?  Say you're a biologist (good for you!).  You got excellent grades, went graduate school, the works.  But no one will hire you.  Would you keep going out on interviews?  How many?  How many people would have to tell you no before you decided to do something else?  And what would you do, for that matter!? You've been for this for years and you're good at it.  And you love it!  Would you be willing to keep applying for jobs after a year of rejections?  Two years?  Ten years?  What if you were given a job (yea!) but you wouldn't get paid.  Still interested?  When do you stop trying?

Never.

Because if you stop then you'll always wonder what if.  And because every no is one no closer to the yes.  And that yes could be tomorrow!  So you never stop.  Well, I never stop.

It takes a certain type of person to make it in this business.  Well, two types of people.  Lucky sons of bitches who were in the right place at the right time and a career making job just fell into their laps and then there's me.  The talented young determined actress who slowly shuffles up the ladder towards success, her heart ever full of hope and her skin thickened to the insults.  Doesn't that sound like a great path to my destiny.  Yea thick skin!

And I've never wanted the easy road.  Well, maybe once or twice I've thought to myself "Why Natalie Portman and not me?" but who hasn't.  Mostly I'm happy to take the ladder rung by rung because I hope this will make the end result oh so much sweeter knowing how hard I've worked to get there.  And, really now, what's the rush?

What's the rush?!

I'M READY NOW!  I WANT IT NOW?  HEAR ME, SPIELBERG?  I'M READY!  I'M GREAT!  I'M NOT GETTING ANY YOUNGER SO GO AHEAD AND DISCOVER ME ALREADY!  WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?

Any other career and I could have completed my education and gotten hired.  And gotten paid.  And had health insurance.  And vacation time, maybe.  But no.  I have to be an actor.  And I mean that.  I HAVE to be an actor.  I can't do it any other way.  I could teach acting but only if it doesn't get in the way of ACTUALLY acting.  And it might be selfish because right now it's not very...fruitful to be an actor.  (Usually it's VERY FRUITful to be an actor).  And yes I could use the money and security that another means of living would provide.  And sure my friends and I would have more things in common if my career didn't require fishnets and Meisner techniques (I lost you again, didn't I ladies) but dang namit I am an actor.  And I'm not ashamed.  And I'm not worried (usually).  Because every no is one step closer to that yes.  And one yes?  Well, one yes can be the top rung on that ladder of success.  So I guess I should get back to work, friends.  Thanks for listening.

How a song becomes a legend.

Once upon a time 

There was light in my life 

But now there's only love in the dark 

Nothing I can say 

A total eclipse of the heart

The song 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' has a very special place in MY heart.  I've always enjoyed the song, the lyrics, the epic drum beats and the fact that it never ends but it wasn't until October 13th, 2004 that the song became legendary.  It was my roommate Annie's birthday and I had organized a little get together with some friends.  There were flowers, cheese, and wine, all of her favorites (I know, I'm awesome).  I also invited some friends over and we listened to some music and chilled.  Very mellow.  Then "Total Eclipse' came on and I don't know what came

 over me.  The next seven minutes we spent doing what can only be described as one of the greatest air performances of all time.   For the complete story I turned to my old friend and ex-roommate Annie to hear her perspective on that night.

Annie

SRM:  So, readers, I am joined by my dear friend Anne-Caitlin Donohue.  Annie, sweetie, thanks for talking with me about that night.  I need some help filling in some holes.

ACD:  Um, sure.  What is this for?

SRM:  My blog.  I told you about it.  You've read it, Annie.  The blog!

ACD:  No, sorry.

SRM: (Pause) Oh.  Well.  I actually write about you a lot.

ACD:  Really?  

SRM:  Well, sure.  I mean, (laughing) we have had some times together.

ACD:  What have you written-

SRM:  Nothing!  Just about the wedding-

ACD: -because this may have to be cleared by my agent.  I mean, you can't really disclose anything without signing- I mean, there might be some legal stuff, you know?

SRM: (Pause)  Ok.  Yeah.  I'll sign whatever you want.  I didn't realize that you might not want me to-

ACD:  It's not that I don't want- you know I'll support you in whatever you do.  I mean, blogging.  Wow!  That's...that's so- Of course I'll let you share some stories.  I mean, we've got nothing to hide, right?

SRM:  Relax, Annie, any story that implicates you in anything also implicates me so you're totally covered.

ACD:  (Laughing) I don't know what you mean.  Why don't we just get on with this...

SRM:  Right, right, right.  Back to the subject of today's blog.  We are recalling how 'Total Eclipse of the Heart' became legendary.  So, Annie, the night of your birthday, can you describe for us how you began to perform to the song?

ACD:  How I began...

SRM:  Right, how did you begin- did you feel drawn to the song before we played it or was it spur of the moment.  How did you begin to perform that night?

ACD:  I'm not sure I follow.  The...the song came on and we danced, right?

SRM:  (Pause)  Well...I mean, yes.  The song came on and we danced.  It was a little bit more than that though, right?  It was like we were channeling Bonnie Tyler or something.  It was so intense!

ACD:  Yeah.

SRM:  So, what was it like for you.

ACD:  Um-

SRM:  For me, I kind of felt like I left my body for awhile, you know?  Like I was looking down at us from above.

ACD:  What is that?

SRM:  What?

ACD:  That picture?!  

SRM:  Oh!  That's of the performance!  Of the 'Total Eclipse' dance.  Rachel took pictures, remember?

ACD:  Yes, but what are you doing?

SRM:  I dunno, really.  Boy, I was SO into it, you know?  Like, wow!  Just in a different place.  I don't even remember half the stuff we did.

ACD:  What are you doing there?  It looks like you're attacking me!

SRM:  What?  Don't be ridiculous.  Look at the next one.  We're dancing.

ACD:  Okay.

SRM:  I mean look at how into it you were!  This was our moment, man!  And for years now whenever that song comes on we have to perform it again.  

SRM:  We performed at your wedding, for the love of Pete!

ACD:  Oh, right!  That's what that was!  Now those pictures totally make sense!

SRM:  (Pause) So... it really wasn't that great of a performance for you?

ACD:  No, it's not that it wasn't great.  I mean it was awesome, obviously.   

SRM:  You're not 'putting off sparks' though, so to speak.

ACD:  Well, Steph, for me it was pretty simple.  I was just really drunk.

SRM:  Yesssss, that's right.  It's all coming back to me now.

ACD:  Yeah.  So...

SRM:  So not a magical moment where were possessed by the soul of Bonnie Tyler?

ACD:  More like a moment where we were possessed by Jack Daniels.

SRM:  Right.  And at the wedding...

ACD:  Pretty sure we were also drunk.

SRM:  Huh.

ACD:  Sorry to break the news-

SRM:  No this is good.  Now there's no mystery, you know.  It's not some magical moment in the past.  It's something we can do again and again.  There's a formula.  We just need booze!

ACD:  Sure.  

SRM:  Wow!  I feel liberated.

ACD:  Great.  Glad I could help.  Also, and this is not a big deal, but it's Anne Procopio now.

SRM:  What?

ACD:  My name.  I got married so instead of Anne-Caitlin Donohue it's Anne-Caitlin Procopio.  So...instead of ACD it's ACP.  Just, you know, for your own knowledge.

SRM:  (Pause)  So do I have to go through and change all of the ACDs to ACPs or something?

ACP:  NO!  Just...FYI.  For the future.

SRM:  For the future, right.

I'd like to thank my guest, Anne-Caitlin PROCOPIO for helping me shed some light on the issue of how we go about making a regular old song into something 'magical'.

Answer: Booze.

Also interviews given by Anne-Caitlin Donohue or Anne-Caitlin Procopio are entirely fictional.  

Making Things Happen

Ever since I was a little kid, I've believed I possess the power to make things happen. Like if I think about something hard enough I can cause it to change.  It all started with the wind.  

I can remember being nine or ten and standing in my father's front yard in Texas feeling a breeze that began to cool the sweat on my skin and I thought, "That's nice". And then I thought about the wind, a great gust travelling across the lake and up into Westlake Hills, seeing in my mind's eye all of the leaves moving with the breeze as it passed, and finally I saw the wind reach me on my father's lawn.  And I didn't just see the wind in my imagination.  I felt it, the strength of the gust billowing my skirt and dancing through my hair.  I heard the leaves as they swirled at my feet.  And I was convinced that I could control the wind.

I know what you're thinking.  All children experience delusions of grandeur.  We all imagine ourselves as something other than what we actually are.  It's a part of growing up.  Well, the thing is, I never really outgrew these notions.  I mean I'm a rational able-minded adult who knows the laws of nature and is fully aware of my human capabilities.  Yet...

I spend a lot of my time 'day dreaming'.   I call it day dreaming because that's the rational explanation for what I do.  But actually I think of it more like manifesting.  I think about things I'd like to happen and I believe that this is helps them come to fruition.  I've read The Secret.  I'm well versed in the laws of attraction.  I understand the science behind what I'm doing but I am also aware that many people would find this practice absurd.  I actually missed the exit to the airport the other day because I was in the middle of thinking about how great it feels to book a national commercial.  I was practically crying with joy at the very IDEA of getting a commercial and suddenly I'm aware also that I'm missing my exit and I come crashing back to reality feeling more than a little silly.  I guess I shouldn't 'day dream' while driving.

So what, right?  So I spend a significant part of my day with my head in the clouds so to speak. I also spend the rest of my time actively working to make my dreams happen.  I guess it all evens out.

You want to know the really embarrassing part?  Well, sometimes when I'm outdoors, alone, and I feel a breeze on my cheek I think about the wind.  And I try once again to see it through my mind's eye and exert my control over the air.  

And you know what?  I'm not at all convinced that I don't have that power.  I haven't been proved wrong yet.

The Shakespeare Performance

"Does everyone have their props?"

"Emma has my fan, Stephanie."

"No I don't.  This is mine.  It was underneath my costume."

"No that's mine.  I left it on the couch and you put your costume on top of it."

"No-"

"Ladies," I shout reminding myself to use my teaching voice and not my directing voice, "Will everyone who uses a fan raise their hand."  Five hands fly in the air. "And now will you raise your fans."  Four fans wave in the air.  Damn.  I had spent two hours making those things.  No matter.  We've got five minutes til showtime.  

"Okay, no fans.  Repeat, no fans.  You'll have to work without them."

I am met with a wave of whines in response to this and I quickly raise my hand and widen my eyes which I'm sure are wild with slight panic, "NO FANS!  Now, places, please.  Places for top of the show."

"Thank you, places," grumble my students as they quickly run backstage.  The next three minutes are a mess as I frantically locate two costume pieces, three props, and one script, I find a plastic baggie for one lost tooth and thank god that no blood has gotten onto the white fabric of her costume and then, suddenly, it's time.  I step out front of the curtain to address the audience of parents, relatives and children.  They are here to see some Shakespeare and, by golly, that's what we're gonna give them.  I smile, slightly nervous.  Who knew there would be this many people here.  Not I!

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming.  Your children have worked so very hard these last few weeks and I am very proud of their efforts.  Now, without further ado, I present to you The Adventures of Pericles!" and with that I am offstage, shocked at the silence I find there and suddenly I take notice of the round scared wide eyed faces that surround me.  They are nervous, too!

"Hey guys," I whisper, "Take a deep breath with me, okay?  Breath into your bellies, good!  Don't worry.  You got this.  You're so ready.  So get out there and do old Billy Shakespeare proud!  Break a leg!"  And they smile, looking relieved, and we begin.

They are good, well, for the most part.  They forget some lines and they say the ones they do remember staring out at the audience with ridiculous smiles on their faces.  But then Georgia remembers to make a joke and the audience laughs and the kids start to relax and then they are actually having fun.

"Yet cease your ire,  you angry stars of heaven!" cries little Emilio dropping all the r sounds and speaking in a high falsetto voice which makes no sense to his character but somehow that's how he speaks onstage and for now it is nothing but cute.

Then Henry enters.  Sweet sweet Henry with his obsessive compulsive disorder and his ADHD which is assures me he "probably has, no doubt" and his gentle eyes.  Henry and his sensitive nature, insisting that he should play the lead, "Don't you think?".  And when I insisted he must play the King Simonedes for he was the more complex character and only Henry could possibly be able to handle the task, Henry agreed asking only for a moment to "compose himself".  All this at age seven.

He takes the stage now bouncing with energy, his voice screeching as he rushes through his lines, crying out with happiness and joy.  I've never seen him so free and I feel myself smiling hopefully that this is what his future can hold for him.  

And then the mistakes.  The First Knight running backstage in the middle of the scene to grab his goblet, the whispering of a line over and over until the actor remembers it's his, the use of one fan even after my reminders backstage that they were to be abandoned.  All par for the course really.  

And then they are bowing and their families are cheering and I'm standing backstage cheering right along with them, only a few tears escaping from my eyes.  Because I know how this feels.  I know how theatre, Shakespeare in particular, can change one's life.  Can effect you.  And I'm so privileged to be a part of that for these kids.  

It feels great.

Saving the world is exhausting

Did you know that it is bad to eat fish?  Yeah, blew me away, too.  I thought we were supposed to be eating fish.  Omega 3s and whatnot.  Turns out there's another school of thought, if you will forgive the pun.  We might want to watch our fish consumption because turns out, there's not an endless supply (what?!). So, this past Wednesday, I'm sitting in the cramped crowded auditorium at the Center for the Performing Arts in San Mateo to watch the first session of this years Speaker Series.  I know nothing about Dr. Sylvia Earle, our speaker, but she is introduced as the expert on all things deep sea related and I, a fan of swimming with the fishies, thought she sounded cool.

Cool doesn't begin to describe Dr. Sylvia Earle.

.

"Dr. Earle's adventures and her sense of wonder and excitement about the living underwater world has opened our eyes to the magnitude of our ignorance about the ocean and inspired us to protect it and respect its role in our lives. Earle has led over 50 expeditions worldwide, involving in excess of 6,000 hours underwater in connection with her research. In 1970, after being rejected from participating in Tektite I because she was a woman, she led the first team of women aquanauts, known as the Tektite II Project, on a two-week exploration of the ocean floor. In 1979, she walked un-tethered on the sea floor at a depth lower than any other person before or since (1,250 feet)."

Cool, sure, and I could even forgive her for being slightly scattered and confusing because she was passionate. I've never attended a lecture given by someone so happy and content with their choices.  Dr. Earle obviously felt lucky and proud to be what she is and do what she does. And that was so beautiful to watch.  So what if I had no idea what she was talking about half the time.  I just loved watching her speak.

Back to the fish.

It goes like this.  Pigs, cows, chickens.  These are very low on the food chain.  They eat grass and we eat them.  But fish.  A swordfish or salmon or halibut will eat a fish that ate a fish that ate a fish that ate a fish and so on and so forth so they are really very high up on the food chain.  When we order blue fin tuna, and this is very hard to accept because I love blue fin tuna, we are killing something that is very rare and very important to the under sea eco system.  Dr. Earle says no on should be eating blue fin tuna anymore if we are to save the species.

Sniff.

And salmon and halibut!  I LOVE salmon and halibut!  With some butter drizzled over the top and a splash of lemon.  Maybe some capers in a nice white sauce with some steamed vegetables...

I digress.

So no fish at all, Dr. Earle?  No more Omega 3s?

Of course not, silly child.  We can eat fish that are lower on the food chain.  Herbivore fishies like tilapia.  Mmmm, yummy tilapia.  And instead of eating fish that has been caught by the huge deep sea fishing corporations, whose fishing practices leave something to be desired, why not try eating farm raised fish?

Really?  Farm raised is good?  And deep sea is bad?

My head hurts.

Dr. Earle is an expert.  She knows her stuff.  And I listened.  I will probably never order blue fin tuna ever again.  And I will try to order tilapia off the menu instead of halibut.  And I can ask my grocer where that salmon was raised.  And he might even tell me the truth.

I can help a little.  Why not.

I will miss my fishies though.  Dipped in sauce.  Sprinkled with paprika...

Sigh.

Well, I can try.

Goodbyes and Dreams

These past couple of weeks I've been traveling to visit some friends and family and so I've had to say goodbye quite a bit.
My first goodbye is to my kitten, Molly.
It is a bit one sided as she slightly awakes from her nap and allows me to kiss her face all over before she yawns and pats my face away, drifting back into her kitty slumber. I am amazed at how much I hate to leave her and I think, "When did I become a cat person?", before I leave for the airport.
Mike and I have had quite a bit of experience saying goodbye and so you'd think we'd be better at it. Turns out this is one time that practice does not actually make perfect. In fact, because we spent so much time apart in the past that whenever we're apart now, even for a couple of days, it feels like we're being robbed. It's a "Hey, we already did this!" kind of feeling. "No fair! Isn't it supposed to be our time together now?". Which makes every trip to the airport tedious and annoying. But we get through. Our goodbye are quick, thankfully, and intense. No gushing like morons on the pavement as the traffic cop not so kindly asks us to hurry it along. Hug, kiss, love yous exchanged. And then I'm gone. I like the simplicity. It is suffecient without being overly gregarious. Plus, it's hard so it needs to be quick. Like a bandaid.
In the south it goes a bit differently. Goodbyes are an art form. And can be quite annoying to someone not familiar with the customs. When I walked into the IHOP for a Hello/Goodbye breakfast with my Meredith College girls, I knew I was in for ...well, a commotion.
Fourteen girls, who of course must greet each other with a hey and a hug, attempt to chat and share stories across three booths while consuming more than their fill of various egg dishes, charred meat, and baked goods. This goes on for over an hour and I'm left feeling unfulfilled, like I had enough time to wet my whistle but not enough to eat. I had barely said three sentences to any one of them. I blame the seating arrangement and not the gallon of wine I consumed the night before at the wedding.

See, hungover. Don't judge.

Then the goodbyes begin. This goes on for thirty minutes. It's a ritual. We kiss and hug and ask about each other's lives and we move in a circle from girl to girl. And then we wait for our companions to finish their goodbyes which means we have to chat with several people to whom we've already said goodbye and then there's the suggestion of a picture and this takes several more minutes to orchestrate as we need to figure out who will take the photo and where the sun is in correlation to our faces. And in the age of digital cameras we of course must check the photo to ensure its quality before we can begin to say our second round of goodbyes. This is where we are given juicy bits of gossip or stories that make us linger with our goodbyes and can draw them out for several hours. As it happens, we have a deadline on this particular day so we politely make our excuses and head for our car and are followed of course by the gang meaning we must wave and shout our farewells one more time before retreating into the cool and quiet car, finally free from the chaos of the southern valedictory. Sigh.
In Oregon, with my family, we somehow got stuck into another never ending adieu vortex as we stood in the door way, hand on the door knob, chatting with aunts and uncles who were also on their way out the door. Luckily, my mother, who was fortunate enough to be merely feet away from her bedroom and beyond ready to retire there, chose to end the shenanigans by saying loudly, "Would someone like to please open the door?". Her subtext was clear and we left abruptly, all chuckling to ourselves. If only goodbyes were always so entertaining. And brief.
Is it just that we don't want to be rude? If so, then by us ALL trying our darnedest to be polite we are merely perpetuating the irritating cycle of the never ending farewell. Good manners are meant to make everyone involved feel comfortable. In the case of the long goodbye, we are doing just the opposite. Good manners gone bad, so to speak.
I say leave when you want to. Hug if you want to. Wave. Whatever. But please don't stand around and chat if the host is on their feet. That is a indication that they are waiting for you to leave. So be polite. Leave. You can always call Betty for her Apple Blueberry Pie recipe later.
And now for the dream. My friend Jamie recently left the country for two years. I am pleased with our goodbye. We saw each other frequently before she left. We laughed, talked, ate and drank. And while I didn't see her the night before her trip, I felt happy about the time we did spend together before she left. And she's now on her adventure and I'm so pleased.
And then last night she was in my dream. I've never dreamed of Jamie before (I leave that to my fiance - inside joke, don't worry) and last night she and I were on a train. She had come back home for a visit. I commented that it was a bit early in her trip to be coming home and she said that I was right and then she said goodbye. There was a noise outside the train so I turned away and when I looked back, she was gone.
Sometimes, if we don't get something in real life, our subconscious is kind enough to give it to us in our dream life.
Goodbye, Jamie! (Note how brief. Although technically she left two weeks ago so this is rather drawn out. Woops!)

It's the Lord calling...

Funny story....

So we were in the UNC Chapel for my friend Annie's wedding. We're all dolled up, hair, heels, and bouquets all in place. Annie's holding a bible, for crying out loud. We're nothing if not reverent. Then someone's cell phone goes off. I look around the chapel, eyes glaring, to see who makes the first move to quiet their phone. No one moves. The phone keeps ringing. Sorry, not ringing, singing. It's a musical ring. How quaint.

I thought the preist recovered very well. He stood up and said, "Well, that was a text message from the Lord and he sends his best wishes to the happy couple." Oh, Father. You crack me up. Crisis averted.

THEN, after communion, the phone, which has continued to beep frequently during the entire service, starts to ring AGAIN only this time we know exactly who to blame. The priest, funny Father, yeah, remember him? Turns out it's HIS phone! Can't be bothered to turn off his cellular device for one hour?On the bright side, at least the culprit wasn't one of the guests because Annie might have killed one of us but even she draws the line before murdering a member of the clergy. Though, if looks could kill...well that would be a different story.

Everyone else was doing it

So, blogging, huh? Well, why I do love the feel of paper in my hand and I am a girl who loathes to travel anywhere without my pencil (just in case), I thought I'd give it a try. Mostly because everyone else seems to be doing it.
This does not mean I am a fan of mob mentality or peer pressure. I think we can all admit that doing something just because everyone else is doing it can lead to some very disastrous results. I'm thinking Kool Aid and a field, you catch my drift?
But there is also something to be said for learning from the behavior of others. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, or whatever. And so , my friends, allow me to flatter you. I have read your blogs, I have responded with the occasional comment but I have always hesitated before recording my own thoughts. And this is not merely to avoid the mockery to which these blog pages leave one vulnerable, no sir. It is because I am flawed.
I have a lot to say, on this we can all agree, and I do so on occasion. But speaking my opinions aloud means I can avoid the spelling and grammar mishaps that will inevitably occur when I write or, to use the cool new verb, 'blog'. I am not the best at grammar or spelling and I'd like to care more, but frankly I don't. So expect mistakes. There will be many. But if you can get past the dangling participles and the typos maybe there will be something worth reading. Maybe not.
We'll see.