The Hobbit.

Caught a show on streaming video tonight about "Ringers." This was a program about fans (fanatics?) of The Lord of the Rings.  I found the film very interesting and encouraging, though I worry a bit about people who need to immerse themselves so much in the fantasy world.

I loved LOTR. (I still love that epic journey.)  I built (what my mother called) a little shrine to Tolkien and read and reread his books. I studied him and wrote papers for school. That was years ago. I was a pre-teen and a teenager. I am still enthralled by his world and mythology. I still know more about Tolkien's creation than most people. I've explored it. I lived with it and then, I moved on... years ago.

I will admit that I do revisit that wondrous world from time to time.

I'm encouraged by films than examine fandom because the fans seem to take such comfort in stories about reluctant heroes who accomplish world-saving tasks with the help of all peoples, a theme in the documentary tonight. The fanatics are desperate to live in a world where cooperation, goodwill and courage end in victory and salvation. Again, I find this encouraging. I know J.R.R. himself shied away from the fanatics, but I think he'd be pleased to see the hope he gave so many seemingly hopeless people.

I digress. I wanted to talk about my experience with "The Lord of the Rings."

My brother Joe gave me a copy of "The Hobbit" when I was about 10. It was a birthday present my perfect older brother thought I'd like. The book changed my life and I want to thank him. That one book opened up a whole new world of fantasy and exploration. Once I realized I could read more about this wondrous place called Middle Earth I had to get "Lord of the Rings."  I started really reading.

Those four books taught me that complicated stories are the best. The longest books are the best because one could live with the characters for such an extended period of time and one didn't have to say good-bye. Not yet.

I started reading voraciously after "The Hobbit." Not just Tolkien, but every fantasy book I could find. I read C.S. Lewis, MacDonald, Piers Anthony, Ursala LeGuin, and then on to Science Fiction. I read Vonnegut and Ray Bradbury and Heinlein. I read Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. I read Ayn Rand (oddly similar) and Stephen King. I read Frank Herbert and Greg Bear. I read Anne Rice and Anne McCaffrey. After that I found Hemmingway. I found the Bronte sisters. I moved on to Robert Ludlum and went into my spy stage. I started reading historical novels. My world changed.

My world changed because my brother gave me a book.

That book was "The Hobbit."

A few months ago I sent the same book to my niece, his daughter. She is already a great reader... But now, who knows where she'll be taken.  To read this book for the first time? I envy her and wish her well on the great journey!

See what you've started, my dear brother Joe? Do you remember that unbelievable gift? I am forever in your debt.

xo

Jing Jing Jing-A-Ling.

I just returned from an amazing whorlwind of a weekend. (Yes, I mean whorl.) It was round about and kinetic, frantic and loads of fun. I took a road-trip with one dear friend and met up with two others. 

Paso Robles Babes 

This was after the first couple of glasses of wine. (Thanks, Mike for the picture!)

My dear friends from high school. We look a bit older... okay.. I know... we look our age. But to each other we look the same. We certainly seem the same (ask anyone of them). Years since we've been together and I think our joy is apparent. A little bit of a time warp and not. 

We've all been married for years, two of us have children. (2 boys and 2 girls between us.. not bad.) Without going into details... We had "the best of times" and have shared some of "the worst of times."

There is something about hanging with people one has known for ... let me see, we all met in 1968. Is that possible? We've known each other for 42 years! Hard to beat that. One sort of has to go back to one's parents and siblings for any longer relationship. (My Aunt will take exception to that comment.) One has to figure, if some one has liked you for 42 years, one is gonna be hard-pressed to do something to change that!  

Comfort and community and very good friendship.

Facebook put us all together. Amazing. I'm grateful. We will do this again. We will not wait another 25 or more years. These women are too valuable to lose twice!

And so... back to Christmas!

And back to our little home and our much admired little Christmas tree. Phil finally has his eye surgery tomorrow, fixing a blocked tear duct. I'm nearly done with all the present shopping and just have some holiday brunch shopping to complete. (The stage manager in me wants everything done now, no time to waste!) I've got cookies and bread to bake filling the house with the glorious seasonal smells. If you didn't get a Christmas card from us, I'm sorry, but this season has been just a bit too busy and a bit too short. I'll catch you next year! (Or, you may get a card on the 27th..)

I'm loving and hating all the rain. It is glorious and a pain in the ass all at the same time. 

I pick up the hams Thursday. (One for Dad!)

Jing jing jing-a-ling. 

   

Hope Is Like Aspirin.

I can't stop sneezing. Call me Sneezy. I walk into my own house and sneeze. It is just the time of year. My doctor asks me every time, "Have you taken up your carpets?" YES, years ago. I think it is the heater, but right now the heater is off.  Sometimes my doctor says, "What is wrong with your face?" Uh, duh! I'm allergic!  He gives me steroids. It helps.
  
Not what I wanted to talk about. I just started sneezing as I opened this post. Hate that! (Worry not about me, I've lived with this as long as I can remember.)

As I've said so many times, we have to live in hope. But now I think hope may be like aspirin. Did you read the papers? Aspirin may prevent MANY types of cancer.  How wonderful is that? The cheapest drug we have may be the most effective.

Hope. Hope is about looking forward. Hope is also about living each day as it comes. I change plans depending on my most handsome husband's ability to wander out of the house. I will (easily) give up my plans to walk or work if he is feeling well enough to leave the house. I want to take him outside! I want to go with him. I don't want him to become isolated and alone. Never. Ever.

My winter days. I'm gearing up for Christmas. I've been shopping. I'm the worst shopper, alone. I can't make a decision. Alone, I can't be rushed, so I spend hours and come home with one thing. I need a partner. My sisters are coming soon.

I don't feel very "Christmassy" this year. The decorations are up but I haven't found "it". My husband is having surgery right before Christmas; we've done all the tests that need to be done and faxed, we have a week and a half until...

Meanwhile, I've yet to correct my students' final project. I've a final to give. But, you know, it is just work. While I take it all very seriously, it is not about our life. Important, but sometimes, less so.
The new year will dawn. It always does. I have (albeit) a brief job,  I have a job! All is good.

Thanks Jimmie.

Out of the chaos, my friends give me hope.

I'll take it!

A Little Christmas Story.

Every year, Christmas Eve has been a remarkable event. I am one of 5 children and one of 4 daughters. Sometimes we'd go to my paternal aunt's for Christmas Eve dinner. We'd play games with our cousins and share little gifts.  Sometimes we'd go to my Grandma's house... loved that, she was the best cook and made anisette cookies that sang Christmas.  Sometimes we'd go to our lovely neighbor's and she'd include some of my extended family. Her name was Eve and she'd present the most elegant Christmas Eve dinner. 

Later, at home, Mom and Dad would let us open one gift from under the tree. (The stockings were still empty. In our house, Santa filled the stockings while we were sleeping.)

Christmas Eve. We could chose to open any package under the tree addressed to us, but somehow, I think my parents guided us to the wrapped book or a fuzzy stuffed animal that would send us happily to sleep.

Oh, and the morning! The five of us would wake each other up. Christmas morning! Get Up! Run downstairs! OH! My parents (and Santa) were extravagant again! So many presents! (There were FIVE of us... a lot of presents under the tree... almost too much. Is that BIG one for me?)

Ah.

But...
We had rules for Christmas morning.

Santa had filled our stockings. We knew we could immediately rush to the fireplace (sometimes a paper fireplace) and look in the stockings. We could open and use everything in the stockings now!

The stockings were filled with new socks or panty-hose (depending on our age and sex). My sisters and I had new veils for church. My brother had a new tie. No oranges or candy. Oh. Right. No Breakfast! We had to fast in those days prior to communion. It didn't matter that we were only 8 years old. Church first. Sacrifice first. Presents later. (Breakfast? Who needs breakfast?)

So... off we'd go to church. Oh, my gosh, we always went to High Mass. The really LONG version of Mass.  If you were Catholic, like me, you spent a little time after the really long Mass visiting the Baby Jesus.

As we left the church, the priest and the neighbors and all their kids had to be greeted and wished a Merry Christmas. (We were well-trained children and all on our best behavior... It was Christmas! We were caught up in it ALL...  Rewards were yet to come!)

The seven of us (Mom, Dad and the five kids) would climb into the Oldsmobile. Dad would then say, "Let's go out for breakfast!" OH, NO... there were presents waiting at home! Couldn't we just have a little cereal and open the gifts? But NO! (Dad was driving. We didn't have a choice. I realize now, he had a plan. He was just prolonging the anticipation.)

It was torture.

We went to the Jewish Deli. Every year. They were open on Christmas Morning. We had eggs and hash browns and toast and jelly. We spent the entire time begging our father to take us home to the gifts under the tree. He laughed and enjoyed our frustration. He was teasing us. I look back and think, "What a riot!"

FINALLY we'd come home to the tree and all the presents waiting to be opened. It was now about 11 o'clock. Some of us wanted to get out of "church clothes," some of us needed to use the bathroom... yeah, that would be Dad. We never opened a gift without everyone in the room. Now we needed to wait for DAD to get out of the toilet. (Dads can be gross like that.) So, at 13, 9, 7, 4 and 2 we'd wait and wait for Dad. We'd talk and ultimately sing more Christmas songs. Mom would say, "C'mon Dad!"

And Dad, laughing, would finally join us all in the living room.

We took turns each year "playing" Santa. One child was assigned the task of handing out the presents. We'd each get a present and wait until every person had a gift and then open them one at a time all together. We'd thank each other, pick up the paper and move on. PERFECT. Well, that's how it started. Ultimately, we were all under the tree, pulling out the packages labeled with our names. Yeah, Chaos!
Okay, kinda perfect too.

It was now around noon. Our family Christmas was over and we were free to join our friends on the block with our new skateboards or bicycles or Barbie Dolls. We were free to play!

Yay!

Christmas dinner was strictly a family affair and very casual. No pressure. We could join another family or stay home as we pleased. We could play with each other or with friends. We'd always end up singing songs together at the end of the night.

As we grew older, Mom started making breakfast at home. In my late teens we started attending Midnight Mass so the dynamic changed a bit. Suddenly, my siblings and I were in college and we came home but briefly. We started getting married, some of us had children and all of us needed to start new traditions with our spouses.  Our old Family Christmas became all about breakfast and the beginnings of a new day.

And to this day... my mother gone, my Dad in fairly good health, many of us come together with the next generation. We eat a Christmas breakfast, go to the toilet, and gather to open presents. We wait for everyone to join us in the family living room. We assign one niece or nephew to play "Santa"; we open presents and chat and sing. Dalila plays the piano. We kiss and love and say good-bye around 2 or 3 pm. We are then free to play! Or, to see the in-laws or to just go home and be oh so grateful to be part of this particular family.

We have a tradition. It is about anticipation and communion. It is about family. It is and has always been about enjoying the holiday... together and apart.

This year, as my mother did for so many years, I'm preparing scrambled eggs, cranberry bread, strawberries and Christmas sausages. We'll eat first and open presents later.

Happy Holidays Dear Readers!

Oh, Tannenbaum! And A Poppy In Winter!

Christmas trees.  No, Really! Christmas Trees! Before we moved to our current home, we bought fresh Christmas trees. The smell! and we could buy one for $20! 12 years ago we bought an artificial tree. After Christmas it was, hmm, I don't remember, about 50 bucks. (We'd discovered I was allergic to the freaking fresh cut Christmas tree!) We've spent 12 years setting up this old school fake tree. It is HUGE! Nearly 7 feet. Beautiful, and it has always looked so real. But... It took a long time to build, a long time to light and then another more joyous day to decorate.

Phil and I are alone. I decorate for the two of us. Maybe one or two friends will drop by.  So much work for a tree that took up half our living room and nobody saw. We decided to go smaller but didn't want to pay a lot. We looked on line and found fake trees with lights ranging in price from $9.99 to $350.00. Are you kidding me? Really? We spent 2 days wandering Big Lots, Sears, K-Mart, Target, and... stupidly, the 99 Cent only stores. (Like they'd have a tree for 99 cents.) We felt stupid. We laughed and laughed.

Phil had a GREAT idea. Maybe we could adjust our old fake tree to a smaller version. OH! FREE! Turned out to be a very good idea!

We have created, from the larger tree, a smaller tree. It is now sitting on an end table between the love seat and the matching chair. It is FABULOUS. A little inventiveness and we have a smaller version of the tree we've celebrated for years. PERFECTION. I didn't have to use all my cheap decorations to fill out the tree. The tree is truly a collection of my favorite ornaments, very few bulbs. (It includes Magic Johnson, Superman and an old Brown's bulb. I have the Wicked Witch of the West and several fairies. I have several angels and two birds' nests. One year, one of my sisters gave me a collection of small Santas. They are all on the tree. I've ten apples, an odd bulb or two and some carved pieces, gifts from my time with ANGELS IN AMERICA. I have a dove on top. (Hard to see.)

The old version of the tree was so large we had to rearrange the room. The T.V. ended up blocking the fireplace. I've always wanted the candles in the fireplace for Christmas. (I'm allergic to wood fires, so..)
This year nothing in the room had to change except to put the Peace Plant in that other corner. The beautiful Orchid my sister-in-law gave me still has its place, I just added a single small red bulb. Oh! My home looks Christmasy and perfect! I'll take some pictures and post on facebook.

I will leave you with the State Flower of California. Blooming still in December:

A Poppy in Winter!

I Was Wrong.

Think of yourself in 10 years.  Okay... depending on your age, 15 or 20 years from now. Just take a moment.

You are successful now (or about to be) and your entire future is yet to come.  Maybe you are just hitting your peak. (So, you are what, about 38?) You are doing the best work of your life and as the years go by you just become better. Everybody wants to hire you! Everyone has heard of you and wants you for their show. You can't accept all the offers, you make choices that keep you closer to home.  You've been to NY and London and back again. You are listed in published scripts as THE stage manager. (You are listed in Who's Who in America.) You teach your profession to the next generation.

Then, time passes and you get older. You keep stage managing shows. You are, of course, wiser. You have more experience than anyone else. You are GOOD.  Somehow, you've become less welcome. You look at your career and wonder why. You look around and see the people you've trained get the jobs you need to pay your mortgage and earn your health insurance. There is no rancor here. You are proud of your students. You are happy they have entered into this strange weird work force.

But you wonder. Why not me?

Your recommendation means more than your own resume. Why?  The answer can only be youth. Think about it for a sec. Really.

Does management look at one as being a little too long in the tooth?

I thought I was in a business that was age-proof.

I was wrong.

Easy Peasy Cranberry Sauce Recipes.

As a favor to my dear relatives who were effusive in their praise for my cranberry sauces and asked for the recipes ... Here they are.

Simple Cranberry Sauce. (Everybody likes this and the recipe is on the Ocean Spray Whole Cranberry packet. Look on the back. Take note! I've changed one bit of the instruction, so pay attention.)

First: Use the fresh cranberries, y'all, NOT the canned. Read the entire recipe before you start cooking.

1 cup of water and 1 cup of sugar. Put them in a saucepan and heat and stir to just boiling. Add the rinsed cranberries. Bring it all back to a boil. Reduce the heat and boil gently for 10 FULL minutes. Put a spoon in the serving bowl (so it won't break) and pour in the cranberry sauce. Contrary to the Ocean Spray instruction, DON'T COVER (too much moisture forms inside). Let it get to room temperature. REALLY, don't rush this. Then cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours.  Follow these directions to the letter and you will get perfect cranberry sauce every time! (I promise.)

The cranberry sauce that was the hit yesterday: (I kinda stole this from Food Network, though the amounts are mine.)

Rinse one package of fresh cranberries in a colander. Take one navel orange and grate all the zest on top of the cranberries still in the colander. Set aside and allow them to drain. Meanwhile, cut the now naked navel orange into quarters. Squeeze the juice into a 1 cup container. You should end up with about half a cup of fresh orange juice. Add enough water to the container to equal a cup. Put 1/2 cup of sugar in a small saucepan and add the orange juice and water mixture. (There is a lot of sugar in the orange.) Bring to a boil. Add the cranberries. Bring to a boil, reduce the heat and boil gently for 10 minutes. Be Patient! Boil for 10 minutes! It will reduce beautifully! Add a handful and a half of dried cranberries. (I use Crasains, but I don't think it matters.) Blend gently. Put a metal spoon into your serving bowl to collect the heat. Pour into that serving bowl. Please, allow the mixture to cool to room temperature. THEN cover and refrigerate for 24 hours. Serve.

This recipe is an incredible crowd pleaser! Try it! Even my 18 year old niece loved it. (She is very picky!) My husband eats it like Jello.

I've played with cranberry recipes for a long time. I've tried cinnamon, allspice, ginger and pumpkin pie spice. I've added different fruits, including oranges. I've never had a response like I did this year. I brought 2 kinds of cranberry sauce to Thanksgiving Dinner, the plain and the one I adapted and adopted from "The Best Thing I Ever Ate" on the Food Network.  I'm usually taking an entire bowl full of cranberry sauce home. Yesterday, we had a couple of teaspoons left at the end of the meal and our guests were all fighting for the leftovers. (I gave it away, came home and made another entire bowl from scratch for my husband and me. Easy-peasy. Took at total of 15 minutes to create, the rest of the day to get to room temp. and some hours in the fridge.)

To my dear friends and family... Here it is! So easy! You never have to be afraid of Cranberry Sauce again... And you don't have to buy that weird can of ribbed cranberry jelly!

xo.

(By the way... if you really want cranberry jelly and can't abide the whole cranberries, let it cool a bit and put it all in a blender before you put it in the fridge. You will have JELLY.)

Saturday to Saturday.

Another Saturday. Another very satisfying day. I slept 11 hours or so and got up to a husband cheery and ready for the day. (Cleaning Day!) We have family coming over tomorrow so it was time to scrub the floors and the bathrooms and maybe dust a little. I'd shopped yesterday.

After 11 hours of sleep, I desperately needed coffee first! I had a little breakfast, read the paper, did the Saturday puzzles (love them) and finally took my shower, cleaning the shower as I showered. (small giggle) Easier that way!  I joined Phil cleaning the house, spending most of my time on my bathroom and finally taking over the mopping when he needed to collapse. (The MS, remember?)

(Clean House!)

Then, oh, my gosh, I had a ticket to a matinee! Time to get ready!

The theatre is quite close to my house so the drive was easy, no freeways. I arrived early per usual, had a smoke, visited the water fountain and settled in for the performance.

The show should have been a light romp, a fun couple of hours, but the director was a little heavy-handed and the magic was missing. I still had a grand time watching my actor-friend play the only straight role as he tried to add some comedy and float to the otherwise leaden presentation.  The set was workable, the lighting mostly good, the sound was near perfect (designed by another friend of mine) and the theatre ...lovely.

I was a little distracted by the phone that rang a bit too long after it was answered and the tie that was left on the floor under the sofa from the first scene through to the end of the performance. (One would hope the stage manager could have seen this from the booth.) The scene shifts were occasionally sloppy and too long. (I can't help noticing these things. Little details make a huge difference though I don't believe the audience realizes it consciously.)  Through it all my friend added so much charm to the performance I enjoyed a very pleasant afternoon. I was glad I'd come.

After meeting with my friend for a quick visit I hurried home to cook dinner. I'd bacon left from the dinner I cooked last week, some very fresh tomatoes and an avocado that had to be eaten today! I made burgers with swiss cheese and bacon (and avocado), a little bit of pasta as a side dish and a salad. I had some pickling cucumbers that were so fresh they added just the right crunch and flavor to the salad. Success!

After dinner we watched streaming Netflix (still on our second go-round with Torchwood) and then... off to bed. The first of the holiday festivities begin tomorrow. My brother-in-law and his wife come over for a bit of lunch and a visit before they head up to her family Thanksgiving in San Francisco. Monday, I teach and pick up the Honey Baked Ham. Tuesday, I'll get my nails done and go to Cost-Co with Dad. One of my sisters comes into town Tuesday. (My Aunt is already here.) Wednesday is all about cooking, with a quick stop at the local farmer for some fresh corn. Another two sisters and I are cooking for 24 people. Wow. Still a smaller group than we've had. Easy-Peasy.

Friday will be spent with my husband. He is not well enough to come to Thanksgiving, so we'll have our day with each other on Friday. Then... well, we'll be back to Saturday again.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all! Enjoy your family and friends. Ultimately, it is about the people and the visiting. The food is just the excuse.

xo.

First Person. Living In The Moment.

It is inevitable. It is the way the world is. Days go by.

Some days are spent with small tasks, small accomplishments.

I got the car smogged. (Okay, that was Thursday.)
The wash is done. (Phil did it. Yesterday.)
The dishes are clean again. (God, the dishes... seems like everyday there are dishes to do!)
I made my bed. (Yesterday and Today!)

I take pleasure and satisfaction in the tiniest tasks, those small accomplishments.

I checked my email. That took a while. I have 3 accounts.

I spent a little less time on facebook and a little more time talking to people.
I walked.
I did some weight lifting. (My arms are a little saggy.)
I bought a ticket to a show and I thought about calling my friend and then I forgot to.

I checked the mail, threw out most of it and filed the rest.

I wandered away and later Phil picked me up at the grocery store.

I made the best dinner ever! (Filet Mignon wrapped with bacon on the bar-b-cue. A salad, some garlic bread, baked potatoes and lima beans.) Marvelous.

I sat with my husband and watched old time television (Dick Van Dyke) and we talked.
He and I ignored today's news.

We'd taped 13 hours of a marathon and didn't watch network television while the taping was going on.  Our system wouldn't let us. But, we found a way to use Netflix. (yay) (Hence, the Dick Van Dyke episodes...)

We watched 2 hours of what we'd taped.

He went to bed.

And here I am.

I never worried about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. I never worried at all. Nothing to be done until Monday. No point worrying. No point anyway.

Tomorrow is Sunday.

Sunday is a bright and wonderful new day. I've lots to do.

Living in the moment works. Always.

Obsession.

I've been thinking about obsession. The condition, the emotion and what it means. In the last couple of days I've been obsessed with Keith Olbermann and it has made me really think about how I feel about him and his news program. I find I'm watching more Rachel Maddow because of the obsession. It is all good. I gain more insight and become more thoughtful.

I have gone through my life obsessed about one thing or another. My great obsession is clearly Theatre and to a lesser degree, teaching. Though, that may not be true. My calling may in fact be teaching. I'll have to think about that.

I'm talking about the obsession with particular characters or people. My husband and I've spent a lot of time recently watching the latest version of DOCTOR WHO. Okay, I'm obsessed with David Tennant who plays the 10th Doctor. We discovered TORCHWOOD first and I was obsessed with the character Captain Jack Harkness. We discovered Doctor Who because we were looking for more stories about Captain Jack. We've been re-watching the entire two series, in order this time. So good, and now we understand the very complicated world of Doctor Who.

Yeah, I'm a sci-fi fan. Note: I did not say fanatic. I love the time-travel conundrum. I love the complication and the discussion afterwards. Takes me away.

Back to obsessions. When I was a kid, 13 or so, I was mad for Star Trek. I went to White Front (The 1966 version of Wal-Mart) and met Leonard Nimoy. I was beside myself! He was signing his first album (I'd bought it long before the signing) and I stood in line with my best friend, Barbara Redding, giggling and gleeful as we made our way to the podium. I touched his arm. He smiled, indulgently. I was in heaven. It was not Leonard Nimoy I'd come to see, but Spock. And it was so special.

At 13 my bedroom was covered with photos cut out from teen magazines. I loved Bobby Sherman and Davy Jones. I loved Spock. (Sorry Bill, I only came to love you after we did a show together.) I loved the idea of Superman. I had what my mother called, "a shrine" to The Lord of the Rings. But that was a book. Okay, for me at the time, THE BOOK.  My obsession with those characters was all what I created in my imagination. I became obsessed with Tolkien and read everything he wrote and everything written about him. I think I still have his obituary somewhere. (In high school and college I wrote every paper about him, when I could. I was an expert!)

Later, my friends will tell you, I became obsessed with Remmington Steele. I loved the character and I loved the romance. It all ended when I saw Pierce Bronson in person. Hmm. Not what I expected.

I loved everyone who played Superman, except the last one. Can't even remember his name. My particular obsession was with Dean Cain. Sadly, not a very good actor, but oh how he looked! He was perfect. I own the DVDs and sit and watch the series Lois and Clark, The New Adventures of Superman still, to this day.

These are all harmless. Harmless obsessions. The danger comes when one becomes obsessed with someone one knows, in real life.

I've managed to avoid this through most of my life, but I clearly have an obsessive nature. What I've discovered is that obsession is the quickest way to end a relationship. Obsession is scary to the object of the obsession. And generally unwanted. Don't you think I'd have learned this in high school?  (Though one weird obsession has resulted in a life-long friendship. Another, ultimately healthier obsession has resulted in my marriage. Yes, I was obsessed with Phil. I still am.)

I've been told I'm just passionate.

Maybe. Sometimes I think I'm just a little out of my head.

Obsession is a childhood fantasy that needs to be put away. It took me a long time to understand that. Enjoy the story, but awake to the reality of my day.

"When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things."
Chapter 13, verse 11
 
I am now full grown. I see more clearly than I did before. Those obsessions are leftovers. Ort in crossword puzzles. I am free of them. And yet, in some small way I am more solitary. I miss Spock in my dreams.

The Truth And Tongue In Cheek.

It is quiet tonight. No late night parties next door, no dogs barking. Blissful and silent. I like these quiet moments, the alone times. I like them because I am not alone and share my life, my days and evenings with my best friend and dear husband. (One and the same.) He gets plenty of time alone as I wander off to walk or to work or to a meeting or coffee with a friend. He gets the early mornings and I get the late nights. It suits us.

His MS is progressing. We spend a lot of time together and apart, waiting, in doctors' offices. In addition to my father (The Pathologist) who initially recognized his great need, my husband has four doctors. The Internist, The Neurologist, The Hematologist and recently, The Opthamologist. We are looking for a remedy, a new drug or procedure or maybe we are just whistling in the dark optimistically searching for that rare sprinkle of hope.

I spend an inordinate amount of time talking to our insurance company to insure we are covered. I talk to the doctors' billing office to insure the insurance we have is in fact the insurance we have will insure that we will not be unexpectedly out of pocket.  Oh, god. So complicated!

We read all the magazines and all the newspaper articles. We search the internet. Because my dad is so well connected, we talk to all the best doctors. Phil's neurologist has even given us his cell phone number! (I don't need advice about the "new" MS treatments.  Please don't share. I'll be polite, but trust me, we know it all already.)

Hmm. You may respond with "Oh, Gosh... How are you both?" Dear friends it is okay.

You know why and you know what? It is what it is. He has a chronic condition, a disease that has no cure. It may kill him. The treatments may kill him. What to do?

We live.

I think, "That's your lot in life Lalena... Can't blame ya..."

We do... well. When Phil feels well, well, he mows the lawn, front and back...a little out of his head, he waters and puts the mower away.  He does the wash. (We don't have a washing machine or dryer, so this is a once a week trek to the laundramat.) He sometimes takes a prescribed pill he tells me is like cocaine that enables him to go about his day. With or without the pill he pays for all of this. There is always a cost. He collapses. He has a hangover from the exertion and from that pill. He has a difficult next day. And yet... after a bit of frustration and a bit of desperation, he recovers enough to regain his cheery self. "Happy Hilow" some people called him. He is. But he doesn't want to live like this. I understand.

So. The glory has to be in the time we spend together. We share so much. We share everything. We spend a lot of time in front of the t.v. but we don't watch the very expensive programming we pay for. We watch Keith and Rachel, we watch Jeopardy and Project Runway. We watch Brothers and Sisters, mostly because I like it, we watch sports and Cash Cab. Oh, and Sunday Morning (we tape that.) I honestly can't think of anything else on network television or cable that we watch with any regularity.  We sit in front of our (finally) flat screen tv and watch netflix or streaming internet television. Brillant!
(So... Doctor Who, Torchwood, all our favorite movies and movies we've never seen... old and new... TWIT tv, old cartoons...endless choices.) OR, we play games.  Bananagrams is our current favorite. He can compete in this game. It is not about fast, it is about creating words. We like it. Sometimes he reads to me while I cook dinner. Sometimes we chat while he does the dishes. Sometimes we read the newspaper together. Sometimes he helps me with the crossword. (Is that cheating?) Sometimes I put out cheese and salami and crackers and hummus and we play music and chat. Sometimes we just take a drive. (We can get out of the neighborhood and into the wilderness in two minutes flat!) Sometimes we go to the candy store. (See's)

See?  We are okay.

It is just life. A life. Our life. We get to share it with each other and we are lucky.

I wish you all the luck and happiness we have found. (Careful, this might be a curse!)

A Pumpkin Patch In November.

Yes, it has been too long.  I've been living.  I've been spending some time with Dad and the nephew.  I've been talking to sisters, mostly about Thanksgiving and Christmas Shopping. In my family we start talking about Thanksgiving in February. We don't see each other very often, so these are important discussions.

I've been out of work for a little more than two weeks and it is all okay. I've needed to spend this down time with my dear husband.  He needs me more than he will ever tell me, and as long as I don't get too stressed about unemployment, he and I can enjoy this time we spend together!  I am determined to continue to have confidence in my reputation. Something will turn up. Nothing to worry about.  Nothing to do about it anyway!

Ah, then there is politics. Not sure I really want to go there tonight.  I'd rather talk about the wider world, or maybe the more intimate one.  Do I need to go into the "life is hard" complaint and what that precludes? How those thoughts stop us from enjoying each new day?  Meaning, yeah, so what.  Life is hard. Pay your taxes, love your family, make a living.. whatever that means to you... and get on with it!  Don't let the fact that living life is so difficult that you forget to actually go out and live your life. Don't sit home, don't sulk. LIVE.

People say, "Follow your bliss." What does that mean, exactly? Seems a little hackneyed to me. I've found that helping someone gives me more joy than any Disneyland trip I've ever taken. (I gave $10 to my nephew the other day, just because. What joy.)

I have some pictures.

This is a group of aging stage managers at breakfast.  I was a little "puffy" that day.  We all worked together for many years, then things um.. changed. We are all on our own. We still meet for breakfast! How great is that?

I shot this beautiful picture on a walk I took just last week. I call it "Sun through the Clouds." But, it is actually the silver lining we all hope to see.

I love these photos. They speak to me of California Fall, the clear and oddly warm days, the chilly nights. We do have seasons. The days are majestic!

See?

My friend will be delighted that I included some ghost pumpkins in this post! Look! They are in the middle! Oh... so Autumn. I love it!

Happiness may be as simple as a pumpkin patch in November...

1978.

My Cell Phone And Green Pastures.

My cell phone has a little bit of a mind of its own.  It tends to snap pictures unbeknownst to me.  I hear the click and wonder what that phone was thinking!

This is one I particularly liked.  I'm not quite sure what my phone saw, but it sure is pretty!

Here is the next untoward photo.  My phone picked it out. It is a picture of the lights overhead during fight call:
I think it is a beautiful choice and that maybe my phone has a better eye than I do!

I traveled from Seattle in a plane.  This is a small part of what I saw:

The ground below and the sky from above.

My husband's birthday cake.  For the first time in five years, I was there to celebrate with him!

I arrived in Los Angeles and found the most precious of theatres. A courtyard in front and an intimate space inside! 

Below is just a bit of the work I do.  If you can decipher this, you might have taken my class.

My wonderfully successful show has closed.  My lovely talented actors have moved on.  We've worked, we've cried, we've struggled and we presented the best damn show that has been seen in a while.  I revel and rest.  I look to move on, but not yet.  There is still time to sit, to ponder. There is still time to laze and chat and cook and clip a rose bush or two. 

I've midterms to correct, and a class to teach.  I've a husband and a family and not quite a farm.  (A nod to Joni.)  I'll walk green pastures by and by.

xo.

My Facebook Fury.

I wrote a diatribe on facebook tonight.  One of my "friends" posted something very offensive about the mosque intended to be built near ground zero.  Her suggestion was to put offensive pornography and strip clubs across the street.  This was my response:

"I can't believe I am "friends" with some of you. Have you any idea how offensive this is? I've actually considered "un-friending " some of you. My husband is an Arab-American. He is not Muslim but some people don't make the distinction. And it doesn't matter anyhow.
We (the people of these United States) are not designed to be an oppressive country though that is the way it all seems to be going now. Fuck you all for your intolerance! The insensitivity is offensive to me. Muslims are NOT the problem. Hate and bigotry is. Grow up and look at history. Jews, Catholics, Blacks, Hispanics, oh, and Gay People too ... any group that does not conform to White Protestantism is a target. Look at the GOP's candidates! Really look at what they are saying!

Do any of you realize there was a Mosque in the Twin Towers? Muslims died too that day... And they were AMERICANS! Stop this HATE.

STOP IT! Radical extremists exist everywhere. Look at the Tea Party. Really listen to what these crazies are saying. How dare you denigrate an entire religion because of a few. We are supposed to be better than that! And, if you are listening to FOX News.. The United States is not Saudi Arabia or any other country that is intolerant. You say... until the Arab countries allow Catholic or Baptist or Lutheran or whatever churches in their country we should not allow the Muslim faith. We have set up a country better than theirs. WE have freedom of religion. This is a specious argument. They are fucked up. We are supposed to be better. Get it together folks, or we are going to set ourselves up for a religious war. And we won't win.

Tolerance. Who really cares if there is a (peaceful, religious place of worship) mosque anywhere. I don't find it in the least offensive. I find the idea hopeful. REALLY.
Relax and then worry about our troops still looking for Osama, worry about your children and your next job. Worry about the state of our country that has become something else than the forefathers imagined. WHAT ARE WE DOING? We are in very scary times."

(Now, a comment on my facebook diatribe.) 

Very scary times indeed when intelligence takes a back seat to "poplulism." When the "good ol' boy" who drinks with you beats out the guy who helped you pass math or history, very scary times indeed.  When we elect people who don't know or understand history and want to take us back to the 'original' constitution.. you know, where "negroes" are slaves and women can't vote, scary scary stuff.

Yeah.  Let's do that!

Makes me just want to move to France.  Well, maybe not France right now.  How about Fiji?

The End And Art.

Even difficult journeys come to an end.  THE END.  I know that is what my cast is looking towards.  This show has been so difficult. The subject matter, night after night, gets into the psyche and changes the way we go about our day.  We, my company and I, need to move on.

So, though we may cry and hug and ultimately miss each other, this show is ending not a moment too soon.  We've done the job.  We've studiously educated, we've entertained, we done a remarkably clean show, we've broken hearts and we've raised money.  All good work.

Time to move on.

I've railed about the nature of theatre.  And here I am, again on the forefront. It is all life-changing. Yet... it is becoming increasingly impossible to make a living doing this.

Times are hard.  We need water, electricity, internet connection, heat...food. And ART?  Food for our collective brain.

Really... What is the point without ART?  What kind of life are you living?

Hmm.  That's all for now.

I have to reflect on this.

xxo

m.

New Paths.

Moving on.  That is what life is about after all.  One more week of this spectacular show and then... on.  

Lost a friend.  Moving on.  Found a friend, desperately ill, but now recovered.  Cool. He is still here. 

Looking ahead.  What makes the most sense?  I hate to say it, but, money and health insurance.  Where did our dreams go?

When did it all become about health insurance and money?  I am at the bottom of the art food chain.  The jobs pay substantially less than they used to, and there are far fewer jobs out there. I can't imagine what actors are going through.  

I am really good at a particular thing.  That thing seems to have less monetary worth than it used to.  I have to look for something else.  

There is no money in theatre.  I don't know how to do any thing else.  I will find a way.

Who knows who I could talk to about voice-overs?  I think I could do that.  

The Real 3D. THEATRE!

Theatre is floundering. The populace has too many other options and is not taking the (very expensive) journey to witness something live and in 3-D. The cost is great, the parking is a problem, and food?  Ach!

Theatre is ethereal and mercurial. It is airy and passing. It teaches us and is gone. A ghost of a project.  Working in theatre goes the same way. Fleeting.

We do it all and the show ends.  We are at a loss. We've dedicated so much time; we've done the best work ever and it fades. We look to move on. We look to some new bit that will entertain and educate.

Gordon Davidson recently did an interview where he said theatre artists will not be able to make a living...soon. That may be now.  

Yet, theatre keeps on living. A friend of mine recently posted a blog about 99 seat waiver houses and how our actor's union allows union actors to work in those vastly underpaid and un-union like places.  The history of the 99 seat theatre plan is that the actors themselves asked for the venues to be created.  They wanted to show off their art to t.v. and film corps. The union relented. The union is actor driven.  And now, many actors complain about the plan that allows them to do more than just audition. The purpose of the 99 seat plan has been lost. The goal was for these emerging companies to build an audience and move up to real paying jobs for actors and for working houses. The result has been that some small theatre companies have created an industry out of using professional actors, building audiences with no intent to grow. They've created an industry using and abusing the actors.  (Give 'em an inch..)

This is a travesty that only actors can resolve.

We can't lose live stage plays. We can't. We can't lose actor driven performances live on stage and audience participation. We can't. 

We won't. I believe we will always come back to the real. I believe there is a NEED.

There is nothing like seeing it live... on stage... in the flesh and in real 3D.

xo.

Shingles, Really?

I had a horrible back ache the other night.  Oh, my, gosh... it was so intense.  There was nothing that helped except ice and so much Advil that my stomach hurt.  I couldn't get comfortable in bed and moved the pillows all around thinking I had a muscle strain.  I actually got up and filled a plastic bag with ice and slept on it.

I thought I'd lifted too much. I thought I was stressed... I attributed it to ... something I could take care of by myself.  A day or two later I said to my husband.. "I'm itching all over." Not unusual.. I'm very allergic. The next day I had a weird rash on my side. It itched a very little and hurt like the dickens!  I thought I'd been bitten by a spider. The redness spread out horizontally.  It decreased the next day. The pain was still present and I called my dermatologist because I was afraid I'd been bitten by a black widow. (They are everywhere here.)

I felt silly coming in, as a last minute appointment for a spider bite. Okay.. Here is the lesson.  I have Shingles.  No spider bit me.  The pain I felt in my back was Shingles.  I am over fifty and prone to it because I've had chicken pox.  I don't want to go into all that right now, but, briefly.. if you haven't had chicken pox, you can't get Shingles.  If you have had chicken pox, I am in no danger of infecting you.  Oh.. so complicated. If you haven't had chicken pox...stay away from me.  I am only contagious if you actually touch my lesions, so don't do that, okay? The point is, if I'd waited even a day longer, all my doctors could not have done anything to help me.  As it happened... I am on anti-viral medication that only works if one is diagnosed quickly.  So, my dorky need to be reassured saved me.  Take the lesson.

Can I work?  Whoa.. Can I work.. of course I can.  A little pain, a little adaptation to my chair, I will always show up.  Is it painful?  Look it up. Oh, My, God. the initial pain was great.  The resultant pain was enough to send me to the doctor.  You know me.  I tolerate pain very well.  This was.. different.

Then, .. well, today, I started developing hives.  According to my dermatologist, I am allergic to the virus causing my shingles.  I should expect hives.  Oh, such a pretty girl.

In the meantime... I will take care of my show, scratch the itch, rebound at the pain I've just caused myself by scratching, look to the stage, call the cue, answer the needs of my actors and wander on through the paths of my life.

Maybe later those paths will take me thru the Redwoods.

A Tribute.

My dear friend and colleague passed away the other night.  I've been grieving and couldn't put words to my feelings.

His name was Frank Bayer.  He was more than a friend, he was my mentor.  I spent 20 plus years with him at the Taper (C.T.G.) in Los Angeles at the Music Center.  He looked out for me, he hired me and he protected and taught me all those years.  But after 2005, for reasons better left out of this blog, he returned to NYC.  All our lives were in upheaval that year.  All of us were left homeless, career-wise.  He took it all with good grace, prosaic always.

I remember we ate at California Pizza Kitchen constantly.  If it was just the two of us, we'd split a chinese chicken salad and some dumplings.  If Jimmie came with us, they'd split the Bolognese Pasta and we'd all share some dumplings.  (I'd eat the tequila fettucine.)  The three of us would always order the iced tea.  Jimmie would say, "No lemon, please."  Invariably his tea would come with a lemon wedge.  Jimmie would say..."OH! There is lemon in my tea!  I didn't ask for lemonade, I wanted TEA!  Don't just take it away and take out the lemon... pour me a new glass!"  Frank and I found this incredibly funny.  (Sorry Jimmie, but we did.)  Jimmie would then explain to us, each and every time why this was unacceptable.  Every time Frank and I went to CPK without Jimmie and we'd order our usual iced tea, we'd look at each other and say, "Oh, there is LEMON in my tea!" We'd laugh.  Silly, but it delighted us both so much.

I remember when Frank had just come off heart surgery and was a little weak.  We were doing BLADE TO THE HEAT.  I was Jimmie's assistant.  Frank and I reveled sitting onstage with all those beautiful men boxing.  Thanks, Oliver!  Thanks, Jimmie for calling that show so beautifully you made me HOT!
Frank thought that was incredibly funny, but understood.

Thank you Frank for telling me "this too shall pass."  You may have said it to me many times before, but the time it really took was on CIDER HOUSE RULES when I was so miserable backstage.  You stood up for me and helped me do the best work I could do in a show where I felt at a loss about how to help.

Thank you Frank, looking out for me all those years, assigning me to ANGELS and JELLY'S LAST JAM.  You had a confidence in me that I was later to develop for myself.  You gave me the really big shows.  Thank-you.

Oh, Frank, you cried with me.  When my husband was so sick with MS, and I was housebound taking care of him, you convinced me he could do without me for a couple of hours and threw me a dinner party, just to get me out of the house.  What a gift.  I don't know if I ever thanked you enough for that evening.  You served cold carrot soup.  New to me and so wonderful!

You made me laugh every time you had a cast party.  We'd be done at, oh, 10:45 or so, and arrive at your home around 11pm.  You'd throw everyone out at midnight.  "That's enough.  Go home."  Of course, I'd stay.. to clean up and visit.  But, you'd still, ultimately throw me out too.

I will never forget when I lost my assistant to another show... okay. it was Jimmie again... you took over and assisted ME!  It was Steven Wadsworth's Marivaux play.  You were the BEST assistant EVER!
We had so much fun!

I called you last week.  Someone answered the phone, a woman.  She said you were resting.  Oh, Frank, you were dying.  I will miss you for the rest of my life.

My dear friend.  You gave me my career.  You taught me how to keep it. You reminded me we are all gypsies and go where the work leads us. You had no pity when things went bad, instead reminded me that we are stage managers and we take care of the show at hand.

I'm crying.
How can you be gone?

A Thought And RUINED.

I've been wandering around the internets.  I've been checking out my various sites and realize I just have too many places I need to check!

How does one consolidate anymore?  I clearly need facebook... I get too much information from it.  I need my USC address, my aol address (most everyone has that one), my gmail address (I'm trying to switch to it because it is my actual name and is more "business-like.")  Crazy and time confusing.

You know "internets" is a joke, right?

I am heading into the last 5 weeks of RUINED, the play I've done in Seattle and am now doing at the Geffen in Westwood, CA.  We were supposed to go to South Africa, but we lost the funding.  On so many levels, this was bad news.

My company and I have become activists for the women caught in the civil war in the Congo.  The play has done this to us.  We can't help it.  We expected to go to Africa to help spread the word, but alas. In Seattle we managed to raise nearly $86,000 to send to the Panzi Hospital in the Congo that repairs the sexual  damage done to women there.  The men rape the women with bayonets and slice into their bladders. It is horrible. Some women are subjected to constant rape and humiliation over months, some are just killed. The Congolese refugees in South Africa say they know how to stop all this... they just need the U.N. to step up.  They need help.

Part of the problem is that the Congo is very rich in a compound they call "Coltan."  Coltan is used in cell phones across the planet.  The forest is being dug up to find this mineral;  the government soldiers and the rebel soldiers are all killing for it.  They are all fighting for control of the govt. and all are fighting for control of the resource. I've simplified. It is more complicated than I'm able to explain, a civil war is going on.. Somehow, women get caught in the fray and become sexual slaves or worse.

I know this is the most horrifying blog I've written.  I tend to stay away from the politics here, but... it is the SHOW I am doing... It has changed me and if you come to see this piece, it will change you.

This fucked up shit is happening, now, on our planet.  We HAVE TO STOP IT!

But, know this, the show, RUINED, is ultimately a love story and is about hope.  It is nearly a musical.  In the business we call it "a show with music."  It is a joyful experience and will educate you.  Always a good thing. Come to us and be changed.  Come to us and learn.
xoxo

A Note and PINK TOES!

Wishing I had more followers.  If you read me, just click the follow button.  It would so boost my morale.

I was walking down Broxton Street in Westwood the other day and an attractive 50 something homeless guy called out... "Hey, pretty toes!"  Well, you know how manicured I am and I had to smile.  The smile encouraged him and he asked me, "If I win the lottery, will you go out with me?"  I grinned and said, "Of Course!"  I never respond to overtures from people on the street, but I was just so charmed.  Apparently, if you compliment my toes, I'm all yours!  He then asked me if I would marry him.  I told him, "Sorry, Already Married!" I smiled and walked away.  Truly, he'd made my day.

Today, I walked down the same street and I witnessed this same man taking to task a university student (UCLA is right here) who had berated one of his fellow street people.  He was quite emphatic and very eloquent.  He didn't see me, but I was impressed by his passion and compassion.

I was heading down to buy a newspaper so I'd have something to read while I had my solitary dinner.  I returned the same way.  He saw me 1/2 a block away.  "Oh, there she is! Pretty toes!  He greeted me and I acknowledged him.  He asked again..."We'll go to dinner, right?  When I win the lottery?"  I said, "Oh! Yes! Of Course!"  (I was taken with him.)  This time he asked me to leave my husband.  He said he'd give me all the money.  Oh, what a gift, to have a stranger (now apparently my friend and fiance) offer such a gift.  I said, "Oh, yes!"

I've made a friend.

The delight he and I shared is a gift and totally unexpected.  "Pretty Toes" was a very good line, to me.  It worked.  Who knew?  He made me smile. That created a connection. I trust that this lovely homeless guy will look out for me now.  I love that. I love that he noticed my toes. Silly, but, what are relationships really built on?  Casual comments?  Yeah, you know, I think so.

I look forward to seeing my admirer again. I know he has also become my protector. For me, a very comforting thought.

Communion.

In tech again... It is going well.  My students are visiting and are more interested in what is happening on stage than what is in my book or what I am doing.  Hmm. Inter-resting.  I don't give pre-instruction.  I am checking their instincts.

I'd normally say at this point, "another show.." But, we are clearly doing a revised version of the show we just did for 6 weeks.  The lighting designer Peter, has the biggest challenge.  The space is just so different.  We are teaching the new crew. They are marvelous. Sound is challenged because our drummer is absent due to a death in the family. Ah, live theatre. Unending problems, but the show "must" go on.

And, on we go.

My attention is focused on the task at hand. I am so happy to be working in LA that the 45 min to 1 1/2 hour drive (traffic) I take each way does not bother me. I'm sorry to be so far away from my cast, but so happy to be with my husband. Fair trade. I get to come home at night.

The Geffen Playhouse allots a full week to tech. We did not need that much time and gave two days of tech over to first day business and spacing. We started tech tonight. In three hours we teched one quarter of the show! (We are fast tech-ers!) We still have 32 1/2 hours left of tech before our first preview.  We will be fine tuning and will have a well rehearsed show by then.  I may even get an opportunity to work with the understudies. Strange business.

I like the people here. I like the space. I hope they see that I could easily become a member of their family.

In the meantime, we tech, we rehearse, we perform.
We do the job that educates, entertains and informs. We are artists all, and we love the communion.

Living It.

Home. It is hot, but smells clean. The fans and the swamp cooler work well. When they don't the little air conditioner in the corner cools the whole house.  My bedroom.  My bedroom. So happy to be back in my bedroom. My bathroom, crispy white. The lawns, front and back are crispy brown. Well, we are under water restriction here. The green lawns some of my neighbors' sport show just how much they ignore the edict to water only twice a week. My lawns are sad little reminders I am not in Seattle anymore.

Oh, and Water Pressure!  One moves away from LA and one has real actual water pressure in showers and in the kitchen.  I'd forgotten about our sorry little streams, but, the little streams make me happy.  I don't need so much, really, to wash my hair.  It works.  It is just a different sensation.  Less luxurious.  Less.. water!

Home and getting used to it again. I've decided to take as much of the week off as I can. I do have some household obligations, talking to insurance companies and attending a faculty meeting or two that I can't avoid, but otherwise, I'm trying instead to be with my husband, find time for my father and maybe check in with my sisters and my brother, all of whom I've virtually ignored for 10 weeks. Life has to come back in at some point!

And life, it will. I do what I do to make my life. I need to remember to live it.

Thank You Seattle. (And A Few Pics Of The Stage.)

I leave for L.A. Monday, around 3pm.  I've little more than half a week left up here in the wilds of Seattle. Visiting is done, sightseeing over. I'm prepping for the next round. I can't wait to get back home and cook some decent meals for my husband (and myself.) I miss the clean food.

I'm mailing 2 boxes tomorrow. I think I can put the rest in the suitcase. I need to make sure we've taped an archival worth saving. It is all about endings. Yet, this show continues. I've new information that might indeed still take us to Africa. But, as I've said... I will go with the flow. My next step is seeing the week's shows out and getting on a plane. My next ambition. Getting on the plane!

Thank-you Seattle, for providing me with so many diversions. Thank-you, Seattle, for being a wonderful place to work. I will be back.

The Final Days.

I had a day yesterday.  My brother-in-law's wife.. (my sister out-law?) and I took the ferry to Bainbridge Island out of Seattle.  I am all about getting on the water!
Of course the day was rainy... But that made it all the more perfect last Monday in Seattle.

We stood outside in the freezing wind. It was the BEST view!

I was smiling my biggest smile.











The furthest from shore I'd yet been: 

A long view of Seattle.  Really small. In the distance!

We arrived and I witnessed everyday sights I'd never seen before, so therefore, amazing!  The island approaching.

The ferry pulling in.












The ferry arriving.

The cars exiting.

All new.  I was delighted.   Upon arrival, this wonderous sight:

Wandering around the island...a few choice pix on a rainy wonder-filled day.

My sister-out-law bought me a pink hat!

And now, it is all about leaving. I've two final understudy rehearsals this week. I'm packing boxes. (I've finished one, working on the second. Hope to mail both tomorrow.) I'm busy gathering all the information I will need for the show in Los Angeles. I've given some (very little) thought to my teaching which begins very soon. South Africa seems to be on hold for the moment. We lost our major funding, so who knows what the future will bring.  Ever fluid, swirling out of my control. I go with the flow.
I find I'm looking forward to tomorrow.

Be well, my friends.

Miles To Go.

It is Fleet Week in Seattle.  All these beautiful young sailors wandering the waterfront.  Huge battleships and smaller tugs.  Humid as all get out, but fun too.  I caught sight of the Blue Angels, though I'm not fast enough to take a picture.  The photo to the left is a "fire boat."  Weird, when one sees it from afar and has no idea what is going on down in the Sound.

This is one of the HUGE ships that have come in.

And this is a longer view of some of the boats I was able to capture.  Wait... Is that SMOG? 










That was today.  As I've said, I've been a little overwhelmed by all my pictures, so I will dole them out slowly... Last Monday, on the Harbor Cruise:
  I like the picture.  A very long view of the city.

I am aching to go home.  I really need to pack those boxes and send them off so home will start to feel real.  I already feel behind on the work I need to do for LA, and oh, gosh!  I start teaching on August 23!

Miles to go before I sleep.