Suppertime

I have been gone a long time.....not reading my favorite blogs, not writing on mine. I'd say I have writer's block but that would be a lie. I just have not sat down to DO it...haven't sat down to DO much of anything I guess. I really wonder if anyone reads this any more.....I still have 23 fans, but you never know, huh?

Anyway, just cuz I like to hear the sound of my own voice in the wilderness, I'll note that I have been away, and work has been relatively busy, AND I have been on a diet. Add all that up to mean my cupboards are pretty BARE. I don't want fruit cocktail, olives and soy sauce for dinner, but I DO have a sweet potato, some buttah. a little sugar and a whole bunch of cinnamon.....and some walnuts...ohhhhh....I know what I can do!
It's SUPPERTIME!!!

Beige

On the census (which I already filled in and sent back), it asks for your ethnic group. I am caucasian, not a drop of anything ethnic, and perhaps the color of my skin quantifies me as "white." However, I really don't feel so white, so processed sugar and flour, so plain... on the inside...usually I feel a little cinnamon, a dash of vanilla, a shake of red pepper and a handful of jalapenos...with some pineapple juice and strawberries sprinkled in.

Why don't they ask for the ethnic group your soul belongs to? Could they make up some interesting, encompassing categories that would blur the lines and stop dividing us?

Today I feel very beige and plain...and sad. The man I house sat for in Hawaii last summer, passed away on Monday - such a loss - such a smart, interesting man and I am sad for his family and loved ones. And Raffles, the myna bird who hacked my hand to bits....RIP JP

Health Care - perhaps no longer an Oxymoron in America?

Personally, I am thrilled about the vote last night...the bill still needs some tweaking, but the sea change that needs to come is one step closer to being able to happen...if the god damn partisan politicians would get off their high horses and work together.....anyway, I wrote the following to Hilary Clinton back when she was trying to spearhead reform almost 20 years ago.....

Health Care - A Contradiction of Terms

Oxymorons don't always translate. Phrases like "jumbo shrimp," "icy hot," and "young republican" are perplexing to people who don't really know our language. "Health care" is another good example of an oxymoron. Like "military intelligence," the two words are complete contradictions - opposites, in fact. They don't "care" in the "health" business, as it should be called. Insurance companies don't care, the government says it cares, but truly doesn't, and unless they're being directly affected, the general public doesn't care.

But most Americans don't have any choices when it comes to "health care." Sure, we have the option to avoid malaria-infested rain forests. It is our prerogative to stay away from India during Typhoid season, and no one really dies of the Bubonic plague anymore. We can choose to pay astronomical premiums; we can elect to stay in a dead-end job because of insurance. However, I don't remember being given the option to choose my health problems. It's not like a big Wal-mart: "Think I'll go pick me up a coupla them broken bones. And how about a serious case of mono. Throw in a couple side orders of assorted strep infections. Oh, and I love that measles look! Those spots will look super with my red silk jammies, and hey, why not splurge -it's only one life! Throw in one of those chronic illnesses. Nothing that'll kill me real quick, but something to last a life time - something expensive, but virtually invisible; something relatively painless, but something insurance companies will run from at great speed. And will you accept American Express with that order?"

God bless America. Home of the wealthy, land of the free, a nation of opportunity. America, one of the only countries in the world where you can legally have sex before you can have a drink. A country where government marching bands get more support than the National Endowment for the Arts and where trivial issues, like education and housing, get less funding that the defense budget. America: a country where the government thinks that a few randomly placed band-aids can heal serious wounds and cure disease.

Yes, I've been denied complete coverage, thanks to diabetes. I waited out the year "pre-existing clause," all the while praying nothing expensive would happen while I was insurance-less. Now that the year is up, I qualify for some coverage. I got an insulin pump. I see my doctor on a regular basis. I get my necessary tests done. And I consider myself undeniably fortunate, when compared to the millions who have no insurance. However, there is still a rider to my policy that says since I had laser treatments on my eye in the past, any claim relating to illness of the eye will be denied. Oh, if I step on a rake and poke my eyeball out, they'll cover the injury, but if I should get a sty, or glaucoma, or if a blood vessel in my retina should bleed as a result of having diabetes for 20 years (retinopathy)...forget it!

So here I am. 30 years old, in absolutely excellent health (ask my doctor), looking and feeling better than ever. To look at me, you'd never know there was a clot of blood almost totally obscuring the vision in my left eye. You may notice I have no depth perception, especially when I drive - you may notice I have more tension headaches from cloudy vision, but you won't see any problem, and before long, without proper treatment, neither will I. See, that is.

For even though I take meticulous care of myself, even though I test my own blood sugar 6 - 8 times a day, even though I watch every gram of carbohydrate, fat and protein that goes into my body - despite all these efforts, the damage is already done. It might not get worse, thanks to the new, improved (and I might add, government-approved), control. But, without additional treatment, it is likely that my eye will continue to bleed, which may someday cause my retina to detach. Then I'll really be in a bind...a 1/2 blind bind.

Of course, then I'll qualify for all kinds of government assistance - maybe even Medicaid, and I won't even have to get pregnant (yes, I was told that if I were pregnant, I would qualify for government assistance in my eye situation!) Hell, I'll even get the extra "blind" deduction on my income taxes for the rest of my miserable, dark life. Just think of all the tax payer’s dollars going to help the poor ½ blind diabetic with the pre-existing condition rider to her “health care” policy. Is this a great country or what? It really is ludicrous, when this whole disgusting scenario could’ve been avoided by simply providing medical assistance, “health care” if you will, to those who need it, rather than to those that can afford it.

I always felt so fortunate to be an American, but right now, if I were an illegal alien, rescued from a sinking rubber raft in the Caribbean, then I'd be all set!

For here in America, we help those poor unfortunates, those huddled masses, those political refugees, those who come to this great land in search of a new and better life. They are lucky. They probably don't know what an oxymoron is where they're from. I think the oxymoron is a truly American invention: "cruel kindness" "terribly nice" "health care." Those are some REAL American words.

It's a Dog's Life

I love me some puppy. I really do adore dogs...they are sweet and fun and silly and smart and such good companions and love you no matter what crazy thing you do. I come from dog "people" - everyone in my family has a dog, or dogS...there is currently Willie and Dippy and Zeus and Jazmine and Mylo and Jasper and Kricket and Sugar and L'il Bit and BoochyCoo, and until 2 weeks ago, there was Dottie...and of course there was dear little Chica. Growing up, there was Angel and John (my sister named that one....) and Blue and Leroy and Dolly and Pucci (pronounced "poochy") and Nugget and Bear and poor stupid Odie. And not one single person has a cat!!!!

What I can't fucking stand, pardon my french, is BARKING dogs. I moved from my last apartment complex cuz the neighbors let their dogs out on their patio and then they barked ALL the time - every morning I was awakened by the lovely sound of a baying HOUND who had been locked up in his crate for the day...at 5:45am. So, I moved up here to the foothills and have often commented how QUIET it is....how I just LOVE hearing the coyotes and listening to the birds in the morning. Well, it is 11:20pm for Christ's sake and the neighbor's dog has been barking for an hour!! And once he got started, the dog next door to him kicked in, and then the next one, and now there is this chorus of howls and moans and barks and yelps to wake the dead. Alto barks and tenor barks and the low rumbling bay of something large and furry. And when the fire trucks or cops go by off in the distance, the dogs whine in harmony!!!

WTF!? Do these people just put their dog outside and NOT hear them? I am over 100 feet away and I can hear them. This is wrong on SO many levels. What is WRONG with these people??? And it isn't an apartment complex - there is no office to call and complain to - it is a townhouse community. If I walk over there with a pellet gun, would anyone notice??

I actually am considering getting a dog...Mainly just to leave him outside to bark all night, but I have no one to take care of him when I go on the national tour. Wahhh...so much for my own unconditional love. Guess I will have to keep looking for it on line.

oh wait...there is a lull! It is quiet...maybe I will go try to sleep again?? Crap...they are back. That is what I get for doing spell check...

sunshine

sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
sunshine on the water looks so lovely
sunshine almost always makes me cry

that song makes me cry.....i love john denver. i wish i could paint the way he makes me feel. I used to sing this song sitting on the chair lift at Winter Park. Didn't give a dead rats ass who heard me OR what they thought.

Have you ever ridden the Looking glass chair lift at Winter Park? It is the shortest lift there, but it takes you to Butch's Breezeway and Vista Dome trail. From there you can see 360 degrees - the valleys the other mountains, Berthoud Tunnel, the highway, and if you are lucky, the blue blue blinding blue sky....inhale, feel your nose freeze together for a moment, then you exhale and it all melts again. It is hard to breathe, not just cuz of the altitude but also it is so breathtakingly beautiful. It is almost hard to tear yourself away from that perfect vision and hit the slope.

I remember skiing at Winter Park when I was a kid.....even in high school, I still passed for the 12 and under child's lift ticket - $12 sure was better than $16....I would give anything to have those days back.....I wish my blood sugar had been in better control, I am sure I would have had MUCH more fun if I wasn't always worried about peeing my pants.....

Here I am a couple years ago at a ski area in Arizona.....my skis used to be TALLER than me, and what ARE these fat wide things? what happened to my long sleek skis?? Man, times have changed....the lift ticket was like $40 too, and I KNOW Winter Park is LOTS more than that.

oh well....good memories....and as the sun streams through the blinds, I sing softly to myself.....

If I had a tale that I could tell you
I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile
if I had a wish, that I could wish for you
I'd make a wish for sunshine all the while.....

decompression

It is March, and I have that "air completely leaving my body" feeling I get every year around this time. I am back from the national tour. Perhaps it has something to do with not going up and down in the air so much? In 7 weeks, I flew Tucson - Houston - Newark - Chicago - Houston - San Francisco - Houston - LaGuardia - Houston - Tucson - Houston - Ft Lauderdale - Houston - Phoenix. I was upgraded to first class on 2 of those, and only got stranded in Houston (twice) and San Francisco for an extra night, so all in all, not a horrible travel experience!

So, now I am home, settling back into living in an actual home, with an actual bed, and not a suitcase. I have a place to cook meals and store food and do laundry. I have a closet of yarn that needs hooking and a car that needs washing, and plants that need replanting. I am back to the gym full force and have lost 5 pounds in the last 2 weeks....30 to go. It has been rainy and cold, and there is still snow up on Mt. Lemmon, but today is clear and bright - lovely day, but still coolish.

As in past years, I find myself nodding off in the armchair in the afternoons like a little old lady.....My head will start to droop, my hands will fall...and the TIVO remote will hit the tile floor, which jolts me awake. I move over to the futon couch and curl up under a blanket I made. I snuggle in for a little nap and then I feel guilty about not working enough. When I DO allow myself to fall asleep, it is fully and completely, and upon waking, I struggle to the surface of consciousness, my body still somewhere else, my hands and feet not quite working for a bit...

I tell myself I am "decompressing," but I really think it is some kind of a depression. I find myself at a loss. I feel lonely and useless and aimless without the 24/7 pressure of work. It is this time of year that i think about buying a house, getting a dog, joining e-harmony, and I cry a lot for no particular or solvable reason. This being ALONE after such being WITH so many people and having SO much to do...i feel like a giant balloon with all the air let out....all stretched out and used.... I miss my mommy and daddy and fear for my nephew and nieces, I am needy and wishy washy......

Oh, I'll get over it....Heading to Boston at the end of the month, and then Evansville in April, and the book festival is this weekend, and it is supposed to be 75 degrees next week, and my foot is almost better so maybe I can go hike in the canyon.....and life turns again.....the itchiness will subside, and the desire for a house will pass, and I will settle back down into my rut...as bumpy and pitted as it is..... welcome home....

.

Misery

Every year, thanks to my job, I am dragged kicking and screaming from Tucson, my idyllic, secluded little haven, and I am thrust into the angry, wicked, dirty world, where my eyeballs are held open, like in A Clockwork Orange, and I am forced to remember that that life does, in fact, suck for lots of people

I am in San Francisco, possibly one of the saddest cities ever. What exactly makes it so sad? Certainly not the abundant and delicious food, or the shopping, or the wondrous sights or the friends and family who are here. Certainly not the 4-star hotel with executive lounge privileges and king size beds and welcome bottles of wine.....

The sad part is the utter misery in which so many people live. Every corner has someone with a hand out, a puppy, the armless guy in the wheelchair down by Fisherman's Wharf who points with his paintbrush held in his teeth, the saxophone player in Union Square, the sad pitiful creatures at market and powell and in every door way. Sure, I know there are plenty of resources available, soup kitchens and aid centers and all that - god knows I wouldn't know where to go if I lost all my money and friends, but apparently they are there.

I was riding the bus back from a friend's house yesterday, and this dirty woman snuck on through the back door. She was trying to move quickly so the driver wouldn't notice and she tripped over her wheelie cart as the bus lurched into motion, landing heavily on the seat across from me. I smiled at her and made some light silly comment about how the bus driver had no appreciation for her balletic, graceful stunt and she chuckled and smiled back. We exchanged a few other words...I noticed she had a badly healed broken nose and red scars on her face where she had either been beaten or maybe thrown into a wall or a bus or something. She was missing a couple of teeth, and she was very aware of her appearance. She picked at some hair and specks of dirt on her pants, she tried to clean her face with a napkin in her hand and reached up to fix her hair, that she had carefully parted and combed at some point...the pretty clip was falling out but she had obviously taken pains to try and look nice. She was wearing cute flip flops....the kind you'd wear on vacation in Miami...certainly not San Francisco, even in February.

She struggled with something in her cart and I offered to hold an empty cereal box for her as she was consolidating, and it took a lot of room. I told her I would be glad to throw it away for her later. Then, from the corner of my eye, I watched as she struggled to pull some kleenex from her pocket and then with shaking hands, she carefully opened an expensive high-end chocolate bar. She broke off a huge hunk in the kleenex and held it out to me. I said no thank you, I was allergic to nuts - and believe me it was NOT because I was too good for her dirty fingers touching my chocolate. I could NOT imagine taking one single morsel of that decadent, delicious treat from that poor soul! I wished I had 2 more in my pocket to give her!!

It was a LONG bus ride, but when she got off, we smiled at each other. She said "have a good day," and I said same to you...and she went off down Mission Street, hopefully towards someplace warm for the night....I stayed on the bus until the end of the line, sobbing for that lady and the life she leads. The mama and daddy who loved this little girl, this person who has no one in the world who can help her get to a doctor to fix her nose or give her a pair of socks and suitable shoes! She carries her life in a wheelie cart along Mission St. in San Francisco, and got off 2 blocks from Union Square, where Louis Vuitton and Prada and Cartier and Neimans and Saks rule

Why why why.....how can we live with such plenty when there are such sad cases in the world - sure there are lots of sick people, lots of drug addicts and sex offenders, but I just think that it we took better care of everyone, then we wouldn't have so much trouble in the world. If we took care of our OWN, it would make more sense to take care of everyone else in the world. If no one had to worry about having enough to eat or a place to sleep, then the suffering would be so much less....yeah yeah yeah I know.....I could give them everything I had and it would still not solve the problem, but I still cried myself to sleep last night in my big comfy bed with 5 feather pillows and 600 thread count cotton sheets.

I want to go home.

From NYC to Chicago....

man, i have been busy! I haven't had time to read any blogs in ages, nor have I had time to put anything thoughtful together for my own....but thought I would add some content, just keep it alive in case any one still reads it.

I was in New York for 2 weeks - a week of prep, followed by a week of auditions. My aunt C always comes, since she is a former SW airlines employee and can fly for free. This year, my niece came to town - she usually comes to help in Chicago, but this was her first time to NYC - she is 16.....a nice time to see NYC, don't you think?

I hope she had a good time...We did a lot of sight seeing, including a dash through Central Park, and a fair bit of shopping. We won the lottery to see Rock of Ages, which was fun! We had massages in China town, after dinner at Paesano's and dessert at Ferrara's bakery. I even got her to try falafel!! She was skeptical at first, but I think she might be a bit of a convert now :-)

at Bryant Parkat the Bethesda Angel Fountain in Central Park

JC and the Empire State Building AND the moon

NYC.......

this says it all:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtwFDz6JGgw&feature=related

but here is the what I miss by working in Arizona....

begin again

Some people start the new year as if it is a sheet of paper - clean and fresh, unmarred by lines and tears and little chunks torn off. Mine is more like a coffee-stained, crumpled up little ball in the corner that has been rescued and smoothed out to add more notes on to the back side....

My year always begins as if the last one had not finished. Due to my work, I don't really have time to reflect on what I want to do differently, just what I need to finish before the 15th. and 2010 was no different. While I spent the first 2 days of the year driving across Texas, I had plenty of time to think, and sing really loudly, but I once again, didn't resolve to DO anything differently. Oh I "say"my resolution is to say "no" more often, but here it is, 5 days before I leave for 5 weeks, and I have the following scheduled:

2 pilates classes (M/W)
dinner meeting with rocket scientists (M)
haircut (W)
blood to the doctor (T)
coffee date with I (T)
breakfast with the pilates bunch (W)
walk with G (Th)
I also need to cram in some more crochet, get together with Cass, PACK, and myriad other things...not to mention the full time amount of work I need to do. And my so-called "boyfriend" might want some attention before I leave for 5 weeks, ya think????

i have donee this to myself every year for the last 8 years of living 2000 miles from my office...you'd think I could plan better by now...it is those dang holidays that screw me up - if I didn't have to shop, or make presents or drive 2,587 miles MAYBE I could relax this week and gear UP for the trip. I did get out of the usual conference I go to LAST week - In 2009, there was that little robbery at my apartment that threatened to undo me altogether and there will be NONE of that this year.

Oh well....thank goodness for sights like this, though, huh? Red Sky at night, sailors delight.....

ahhh

Here i am, wrapped in the warmth of the family vibe...yes, they are all slightly crazy - we were the original family to put FUN in dysFUNctional...and so far it is just my dad, his brother and one sister, their spouses, and one unruly cousin...oh, and 3 dogs and a bunny named flopsy. Houston is a miserable soggy dreary mess and it is 3am, and I am WIDE AWAKE. By the other 90 eleven billion cousins show up tomorrow, the weather won't matter...The griping and moaning and bitching and complaining, and the entire 1,093 mile drive will be worth it! I am nothing without my kooky family!

so, in case I miss ya later, and previous grinchy post not withstanding, MERRY CHRISTMAS to you and your loved ones! I hope Santa, or whoever, grants all your wishes, and you have happiness and peace in spades.....

Love,
Sara

ho ho ho

I am sitting at starbucks wearing my grinch shirt and if one more person smiles jolly-ily (??) at me and says how much they loooove the grinch, I will smack them. I come here to work, believe it or not, the quiet music - the dim hub bub of people talking and coffee grinders going is the "white noise" i need to focus on this BORING data entry I have to get done, but seriously...the grinch HATED christmas, the whole christmas season...now please don't ask why, no one knows the reason...although I have an inkling. why do people think you ONLY have to be nice and SAY something to people when they leave your establishment at the holiday time? Why can't we be nice and say thank you, have a nice day ALL the time.

ok...enough of this. I mainly wanted to have at least one more post in 2009 than I did in 2008, and this is it....I am driving to Houston on Tuesday....and then its the beginning of the REAL travels...

alrighty then....it's up and let 'em at me...and go ahead, I dare you to smile at my shirt!

SSP

A Close Call

Last night I went out to dinner at the Old Pueblo Grill with my friend E. She used to live in town and moved to Portland a couple of years ago, but comes back to direct shows every so often. We had a delicious dinner (I had southwestern chicken parmesan with green chili mac and cheese and she had some avocado cilantro chicken thing), and then I ran off to the theatre to see her show while she paid the bill. Sadly, I was 10 minutes late cuz I couldn't find parking, but they snuck me in. It was The Pillowman, which is NOT a lovely, sweet play, by any stretch of anyone's convoluted imagination but it was well done and I enjoyed the uncomfortableness of it.

So, I am driving home, glancing ever so often at my passenger seat to make sure my leftovers don't slide off the seat, and suddenly I notice flashing lights in my rearview mirror! Son of a bitch! I have no idea how fast I had been going, but I put my blinker on and turned into a 7-11. My heart is pounding and I am worried...I know my car insurance is paid up but I don't have the current paper showing it...and a couple of other things I have been doing kinda under the table to avoid detection....so yeah, I am sweatin' as the cop approaches me.

"Do you know why I stopped you?' asked the cop

"not a clue," I replied.

"Do you remember when you turned onto this street from that street?" he asked. I am in the University of Arizona environs and navigating these streets filled with bicyclists and crazy drivers (11 pm on a saturday night), is tough enough as it is.

"when you made your right hand turn, you didn't turn into the right lane...in fact you turned into the median." He said. Now, I know I make wide right turns, cuz I can't see the front right of my car, as I sit so low, and I have run over the curb on more than one occassion, but seriously, the MEDIAN?

"I don't recall that," I said honestly. He asked me if I had been drinking and I sorta scoffed and said No. He asked for license etc adn I gave him the license, got the book out with all my paperwork, knowing the insurance card was out of date...forotunately, I had ALL the other insurance cards in there (I have owned the car for 15 years, so there are a few of them) and start rifling through them. I give him the one expired 10/1/09 and he took it all back to his car

He came back a couple minutes later and said he was only giving me a warning and to be more careful. PHEW...yessir I said and got back on the road and went home to eat my left overs....

Now, sitting here, while very glad I didn't get a ticket, and you bet your butt I will turn more carefully from now on, but REALLY? that is why he pulled me over? Not a minute before I had turned onto the street, I had swerved around a bike riding homeless man who didn't have any lights on. Another car ran the stop sign, a car in front of my (after I made the turn), changed lanes with a signal. Was it really that bad of a thing? And I honestly did NOT turn into the median...But whatever...I am just glad I didn't get a ticket....or worse.....

Joy, Joie, Gioia, Freude, Alegria....

Anyway you say it, what makes you happy? What makes me smile? What makes me glisten and bubble - in short, what brings me JOY, asked Auds over at Barking Mad.

Let me tell you, I know Joy. I am a firm believer that you must endure the SHIT so you can recognize the joy when it comes your way. And I have KNOWN some shit. Just the way you have to sit through really crappy movies and horrible pieces of theatre, to KNOW good acting; just as you must eat a LOT of poorly prepared green corn tamales, so you know perfection when you taste it; so too, you must go through some bad bad STUFF to know the good STUFF it hits you in the face (or you trip over it, blinded by tears of frustration and sadness). So when I say I can recognize pure unadulterated Joy, you can believe me.

Sure, lots of money, fancy cars, nice shoes, fine food...those COULD bring me Joy...except I don't have any of those in my life on any sort of a regular basis. And yes, certainly my family....my darling nieces and nephews, and the cousins and aunts and my 92 year old grandma and my parents and siblings who STILL love me despite my efforts to push them all away...they are all surely a source of joy and happiness (and aggravation and irritation TOO I must admit). Having better health would certainly bring me joy, but since so much of that is beyond my control, (that is what I keep telling myself, anyway), I certainly can't base my happiness quotient on that "hope" or "wish."

But "Joy" is such a short, simple word. So the short, simple, yet truly CONCRETE answer to the question of "What brings me Joy" is: sitting on a rock on the top of a mountain. Something about the clear, cool air, the isolation, the simplicity, the trek endured to get there, whatever, it is my HAPPY place...I go there in my mind often, and physically not as much as I wish I could.

Sure, there are tons of awesome people in my life, and many chocolate-based recipes I look forward to testing out, and those lovely airplane upgrades and the luxury hotels with the really nice beds....these all make me smile....but for true, unconditional JOY.....just give me a rock above 10,000'

And YOU??

I had a dream

I had a dream last night...I dreamt that I was babysitting for Ryan over at Pacing the Panic Room. Don't ask me why...I don't live within 2,000 miles of he and Cole and LB and Tessa Tangerine, but there I was, in full technicolor - I could even see the pink in Tessa's sweet little cheeks, and LB's gorgeous rich brown eyes....

For whatEVER reason, I am there babysitting in the middle of the day. I can see the sunlight streaming through the windows and the light is radiant, just like in all of his photographs. I am sitting there watching TV, the kids are both in bed for some reason, and strangely, I am wearing my nightgown. There is a knock on the door. After I check to make sure the kids are still in bed, asleep, I go to the door and crack it open. Some guy is there trying to sell something though I don't remember what. SOME how, he entices me to come outside, and as I am walking with him across this parking lot, which just so happens to be Ryan's driveway, I notice a camper set up in the middle. I see Ryan sitting in there, and think "jeez, he must really NOT trust me if he has to SPY on me, but phew, I am glad he is sitting there just in case this guy murders me or something. "

The guy finishes his sales pitch and I run back to the house, and there is Ryan with both kids sitting in the play room (it was a lovely room, by the way) and he is PISSED that I left the house! I was desperately explaining to him that both kids were safe in their bed, sound asleep and I was only outside for 5 minutes and I KNEW that he was there....he was still mad, though, which I suppose I can understand....

Wonder what THAT dream means...

Ryan, if you read this, please know that I would NEVER leave the kids unattended...though I have been known to go outside in my nightgown.....

Time

When I was in college and felt lonely and depressed, I would look at my self in the mirror and try to see what was behind the skin and eyes. (The photo is my senior picture from high school) I tried to see who was in there, who was trying to get out and who other people saw. I memorized the shape of my lips and the curve of my own cheek, I saw the speckles of gold in my brown eyes, and the pores on my nose. I looked at the way each eyelash came out and saw each imperfection in my teeth. I wondered whether I should take the plunge and actually DO something about my bushy eyebrows and even then, noticed the beginnings of the crack in my forehead between them. . Sometimes I would do it while I was drinking (drinking age was 18 for beer then, don't get all "underage drinking!!" on me). It was always interesting to me to watch myself get tipsy. The way I got harder and harder on myself until eventually I could no longer look at myself and my eyes closed. Then, I'd put my head down and fall asleep, to awaken all better the next morning.

I still find myself doing this when I am seriously depressed. Normally, I barely have time to see if I wiped the toothpaste off my chin before I run out of the house, but when I am sunk low in my soul, I will wander up to a mirror and lean up against it, trying to see who is in there, who wants to get out, and who other people see. Though the pupil is one eye is slightly different (from a surgery years ago), the gold speckles in my eyes are the same - and the eyebrows would still make Brooke Shields and Tom Cruise proud, but now I see all these little crinkles in the corners. My lips are smaller and tiny lines emanate from them - now I understand the use of lip liner, how it helps keep the lipstick from feathering out around old ladies' mouths. My eye lids are lower, the crack in my forehead is deeper and I still see the imperfections in my teeth. Things all over are drooping more than they used to, like my nose? What is that? Is your nose supposed to get longer? And other pieces are hurting farther into the day than they should.

This is the slippery side of the 40s - closer to 60 than to 30, and that not only terrifies me, it saddens me. I am not done living and doing all the things I wanted to do. I don't have a list per se, and heaven knows I have had a pretty friggin' spectacular life so far, but I am not ready for it to be on the DOWN side. I don't want to slow down. I am not to a point where I want to sit back and enjoy it...and with my income, I will never be able to retire and really just enjoy life.

I have PLENTY of time, everyone says...Heck, my grandmother is 92 and still drives her self to bridge and my own mother is healthy as a horse and yet....I am afraid of the end. I am afraid of the pain. I don't want to be a hunched over, feeble invalid with someone feeding me and wiping my butt. Who would do that anyway? Who will be there for me? Who will hold my hand as I slip into the blackness of forever. Who will go through my things and decide what gets thrown away and what gets kept....and who will want any of my crap anyway. The comic book collection? My 2 boxes of diaries and journals? My 14 photo albums? Who will want that 40 year old feather pillow I have insisted on toting around the world with me? Will anyone find the stash of emergency cash I have hidden in my room?

sigh....just depressed today, I guess and thought I'd share it with the whole friggin' world, since there isn't anyone here to talk me out of the Pit of Despair I've wallowed into. Aren't ya glad you stopped by, if anyone actually does? Sorry....I will wallow out and shake myself off later...

Pay it Forward

One of you made an incredible last minute donation to my campaign to raise funds for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation, putting me over the top of my goal of $1,500. I will let you know who, if she says it is ok...but here's the deal...I am gonna pay it forward! A friend of mine is walking in the Susan Komen walk in San Diego soon and she is just short of HER goal...so I am going to go help her out.....

Here's the challenge....find someone you can help in some way, not necessarily financial, but you know what I mean, and then just ask them to pay it forward (not that my donor asked me to, I just WANNA!!). Sure, PAY IT FORWARD was a great movie (that is a link to the incredibly sad end), but gosh wouldn't it be a wonderful world if we all did shit like that?

Well...why not?

Go on, get outta here - go find someone and see what they need...and fix them....It IS possible to change the world.

and now that I watched the movie ending again, I need to go find something to dry my damn computer off...it is floating in tears!!!

Play Baby

I've always wondered how it would feel to have my newborn baby ripped from my hands and handed to someone else. I know it happens all the time - sensible women realizing they aren't up to the challenge of motherhood, and rather than abandoning the baby at a church or throwing it in a dumpster, they have made the choice to give it up for adoption. Or surrogate moms who are doing the hard word for someone who can't. Not being a mom myself, I have always imagined it would be really hard, after growing this thing inside of you, living, eating, sleeping, breathing for it, and with it, nurturing it, feeling it, seeing it on the ultrasound. And, oh, that moment of quickening, when you first know there is something alive in there...a piece of you that is NOT you...that little kick you know wasn't from bad nachos...throbbing to its heartbeat, flinching with its hiccups.

Then the pain, the push, the deep breathing, the screams, the agony of delivery....the scars made to your body, the stretch marks and nerve damage, the fallen arches, the exploded veins, the loosened muscles and everything else.

But, then there is this life, this new baby with its sweet eyes, unfocused, but surely staring up into your soul, blinking in the new light. A tiny little hand flailing toward your face, a perfect little foot, which you only imagined as it kicked you in the bladder every night, that you can hold and caress, and smell. Oh, that new new baby smell!

Then, in comes some stranger. She gently plucks the baby from your arms, and it is then that the realization of doing the "right thing" would prevail, right? Giving the child to someone who can better provide, better nurture, better care for that tiny little piece of your self takes over and while it might hurt for a little bit, the reality of what you are doing is salvation.

Bullshit

I am not a mother. I have been pregnant, but I have never given birth...to a human child anyway. My children are the plays I direct. I birth little play babies. First I read them or see them as some one else's play baby, but soon, they become a part of me as they infiltrate my dreams. I see them playing out in my head when I am awake, even while I doing statistics, I imagine the actors on stage, the composition of the stage pictures....the colors of the set and the intensity of the lights. Then come the auditions, and I see the potential humans that could become the actors who bring my play baby to life...and I carefully pick the ones who I think will best suit these characters...For months, I dream about these actors in my play baby. I see J and G and M doing my play baby on my imaginary set.

Finally rehearsal begins and they say the lines out loud, not just in my head and my play baby quickens and becomes real. I can touch it and shape it and nurture it. What I eat and how much sleep I get directly affects my play baby, so I go to bed on time and eat my veggies and drink LOTS of water. I give my actors suggestions and ideas and help them find their way to the soul of these characters who make up the play baby I have been dreaming about for months. Instead of genetic testing and amnios, we struggle with blocking and set issues. The costumer brings in choices...did she not hear me when I said NO GREEN CLOTHES...Does she not realize my lead actress is a red head and looks VILE in red?? The set develops and as pieces adorn it, this big green "emerald city" becomes a home for my play baby and the actors begin to really live the play baby's life, and then we add the technical elements of lighting cues and sound effects, the music score becomes a part of the sense and sensibility of the whole thing, and piece by piece, my play baby evolves.

Before you know it, it is opening night, the final push, the final screams of agony and my baby is born. It is OUT THERE for everyone to see...staring up at you with these innocent newborn eyes, curious, yet calm, and just as you settle in to get to know this new baby, this new creation, everyone ooohing and ahhing and sending you flowers....

Then, your producer sends you an email saying YOU ARE DONE. YOU ARE NO LONGER NEEDED to give notes to the cast or crew. You are no longer welcome back stage. You are permitted to attend the performances if there is room in the house, but no more changes, no more notes. Here is your check, turn in your keys, Buh Bye, have a nice day.

I have directed dozens and dozens of plays and I have never had this experience! I have always been there to enjoy the run of my playbaby, to watch it grow and develop, and watch the actors sink into a warm ease with their characters, and then, at the end, when the play baby is all grown up, and there is a final closing performance, and we all cry and say how much fun we had....and then we gently go our separate ways.

That is the way I wanted it to be. I feel so cheated that I put in all this hard work and effort and instead of being allowed to be involved in its growth and development into a fullly realized production, my play baby was ripped from my arms, I've been shuttled out of the hospital and the door has been slammed in my face. I am numb and cold and lost and ever so depressed.....

Dear Sissy

E, darling sister of mine,

I love you sooooo much, but you have never needed anyone's approval to live your life, so why do you constantly seek it out from your mother in law, of all people? You may be married to her son, but you were born MY SISTER - and it does not matter what everyone ELSE in the world has or does, because you are good enough! Just sit there and listen, and be nice to her, count tiles in the floor, whatever - she is sitting there chatting with you, a family member NOT ignoring you, as you so often complain about...hell, I am sure she is scared to talk to you about anything cuz she knows you have a hair trigger and you will bite her head off. AND I SAY THIS CUZ I HAVE ONE TOO!!! You have to walk on tippy toe around me most of the time...

Who CARES if she thinks we come from a trailer park????? I am sure she doesn't, having met the rest of your family, but why, oh why do you feel the need for her to be all gooey and impressed and gushing about you or your kids. She is NOT going to change, so why do you constantly make yourself miserable and make her think you are a bitch? When you say snide or snarky things, she really is not smart enough and just does NOT get it! It only hurts YOU!

Who gives a shit if K walks in and, instead of saying hello, she says "something is burning!" that is HER....you can't judge her, and you need to stop being so judgmental about them! If you hate it so much, Move. Leave P and go somewhere where you won't have to listen to how wonderful R is, or how great T did in soccer, or how cool B's golf score was, or how awesome everyone ELSE in the family is. You KNOW you have class and taste, and your kids are smart, intelligent, well behaved and obviously loved by their aunts and uncles and cousins - I saw that at Thanksgiving last year.

And WHO CARES if your house is "plain" - you don't have solid wood floors or granite countertops or top of the line berber carpet - but you have DOUBLED the square footage of your house since you moved in!! You paint and do all the things that your mother in law was so impressed that R managed to do - maybe she was sharing that with you cuz she knows you work your ass off and you like fixing your house, and she was happy that R was finally getting into it and she thought maybe you would like R a little more if you knew she was trying to do all those things the amazing sister of SSP did!!

STOP comparing yourself to other people, sissy. Count your blessings and you will be happier. Your life will be easier and not so much struggle

I know you think I don't understand, and maybe I don't understand your Yankee inlaws, but I KNOW you and I know you are making yourself miserable by looking out of your palace and seeing how green the grass is everywhere else....Stop. Look at what you have, how healthy and happy your children are, how secure you are in your safe comfortable home. Change what you can, and if all else fails, come to AZ and live with ME...see how happy you will be then!!

I love you

SSP

Opening Night

Tonight, Rabbit Hole opens. We amazingly had a SOLD OUT preview audience last night, and understandably the cast was a little ruffled and dropped some lines and missed some cues. Once, the stage manager was caught on stage when the lights came up a little too early, but for a final dress rehearsal, it was not bad - besides they say you need an off final dress to insure a fab opening, so it should be great.

Here are some photos from rehearsal, and then some pictures of my set....and some of my actors...

Now I am off to direct for the Play in a Day thing...Busy day...but this is why my blog is so boring lately....thanks for stopping by....