Categories
Awesome Drew Friends Sentiment Sleep talking Theatre

Potpourri

Molly and I were talking about seeing Giselle or Coppelia at the SF Ballet.

Me: I know the story of Coppelia, but I don’t actually know what Giselle is about.
Molly: It’s…basically like Swan Lake, but she’s a nymph.  And she drowns herself at the end.
Me: Spoiler alert!
Molly: What, they all end with the main character killing herself!  Except The Nutcracker, which you find out at the end is all Clara’s dream.
Me: SPOILER ALERT!!

Drew and I saw The Nutcracker last night and loved it.  I know that kids are a given at The Nutcracker, but I still got a little annoyed when the little boy behind us explained every “magic” trick to his grandma in a loud kid-whisper.  I know it’s not really magic, because this is theatre.  But please tell your Nana at intermission.  But you know who was adorable?  The little little girl who I could hear somewhere in the grand tier, who, when the ballerina dancing doll came out in the first act, cried, “Look, mommy!  A ballerina!  A ballerina!”  Awww.

After we were home, Drew and I were dissecting the show.  He decided that when ballerinas walk, all turned out and pointy-toed, they look like ducks who are trying really hard not to walk like ducks.  Then we cracked ourselves up saying, “Not like a duck, not like a duck, walk like a person, walk like a person…remember, they’ll never let you in the restaurant if they suspect you’re a duck.  Make eye contact and don’t fumble with the money.”

Then Drew went to sleep while I read Eclipse, and at one point I noticed he was making a lot of noise rummaging around his pillow.  I asked him what he was doing and he said he was checking his pillowcase for money.  I said, “…What?”  and he said, “The pillowcases are full of money.”  “Yeah,” I said, “that’d be nice.  Go back to sleep.”

Today we went to the Dickens Fair and almost right off the bat saw this random chick dressed like a ballerina.  One of her arms kept fluttering around.  I think she thought it was bewitching.  She did get major bonus points when she went en pointe for someone to take her picture.  But every time we saw her (and if you’ve ever been to the Dickens Fair for a day, you know how often you see the same people), we looked at each other and both thought, “Not like a duck, not like a duck…”

Otherwise, the Dickens Fair was Dickensy.  And fun.  And busy.  Erin’s dad does single stick fighting and was doing several demonstrations during the day, and asked Drew to come take pictures of him.  I took video.  So we would meet Tom at 2:20, then go wander around the Fair, then meet up again at 3:30, etc.  I actually think it’s the only way to see the Dickens Fair.  No one can just meander around and look at things for six hours.  The structure was nice.  I wanted to buy a mop of curls to wear over a bun, but Drew wouldn’t let me.  Also, we couldn’t find where they were being sold.  I also wanted to buy a nightlight, a Christmas ornament, a feathery head ornament, some fudge, a gyro, some popcorn (by the late afternoon we were both starving), and a flowery circlet headpiece thing.  Luckily we only had $10.  Because what do I need with any of those things?

Finally, here’s a nice thing I do.  The Opera offices are on the 3rd floor of the building (which is the top).  Basically no one on the 2nd floor uses the elevator, but in the morning Opera people will use it to go up.  I always do because I’m usually always carrying my purse, my lunch, at least one water bottle, and a cup of coffee, and I’ve just walked from Bart and don’t want to take the stairs.  But the elevator is super slow.  So whenever I take it to the 3rd floor, I always press the button for 1 to send it back down for the next person.  That’s a nice thing I do.  I just wanted to mention that.

Categories
Awesome Beauty Being a girl Friends Memoir Nature Nonfiction Sentiment

50 Reasons I’m Thankful To Live In San Francisco

In November, the Village Voice published 50 Reasons To Be Pretty Damn Euphoric You Live In New York City.  I’m not arguing with them – God knows I miss NYC – but I immediately started thinking about a similar list for San Francisco.  I haven’t been here too long, and my activity in the city is limited, so this is just one person’s very specific list.

(I gladly welcome input on this, especially when it comes to something I’ve left off, which will probably be because I just haven’t experienced it yet.)

50 Reasons I’m Thankful Every Day To Live In The San Francisco Bay Area

“San Francisco is 49 square miles surrounded by reality.” -Jefferson Airplane

50. Apartments come stocked with dishwashers. Not necessary, but very convenient.

49. It’s easy to avoid Starbucks and patronize independent coffee shops. (But it’s also easy to find a Starbucks if you need that peppermint white mocha.)

48. The carousel at the San Francisco Zoo.

47. There is always someone crazier than you. Always.

46. The view from the Golden Gate Bridge.

45. The many views of the Golden Gate Bridge.

44. Cable cars: the city’s moving landmarks.

43. Driving around the city and realizing you’re on the street where Full House was filmed…or Mrs. Doubtfire…or Invasion of the Body Snatchers. You know, any of your childhood favorites.

42. You don’t have to be a kid to love the Exploratorium.

41. Or, for that matter, the California Academy of Sciences.

40. That sense of superiority when you get to tell someone, “Don’t call it ‘Frisco.’”

39. Because the city is not strictly a grid, the feeling when you conquer the streets of San Francisco is one of invincibility! You are now unstoppable!

38. I’ve never seen curved escalators anywhere else besides Westfield Mall.

37. Some people are into tea. Those people love Lovejoys in Noe Valley.

36. “It’s an odd thing, but anyone who disappears is said to be seen in San Francisco. It must be a delightful city and possess all the attractions of the next world.” -Oscar Wilde

35. I’d rather have a spider or two in the corner, than a kitchen full of roaches (yuck).

34. Just south of San Francisco is Colma, where dead people outnumber the living.

33. Watching the fog creep in. You know it’s ruining the sunny day but you can’t stop watching.

32. Baker Beach (under the Golden Gate Bridge) is “frequented by clothing-optional sunbathers.” Our very own nude beach, so close to home!

31. Napa Valley and its myriad vineyards and tasting rooms are but a short car trip away.

30. The Crème Brûlée Cart: food always tastes better when you’ve had to hunt it down.

29. The other day, I saw a homeless man with a cat carrier. And he opened the door and a chicken walked out. And the chicken was on a leash and pecked in the grass while he smoked a cigarette. This was at 8:30 in the morning, and set the tone for the rest of my day: bizarre and wonderful.

28. Spending a summer afternoon browsing the boutiques. Even if you don’t spend anything.

27. There are streets, where you can look up, and even though you’re within the city limits, you’d never guess it.

26. On paper, it sounds kind of pathetic to take a number and wait in line for a half hour for an ice cream cone. Yet at Mitchell’s it’s worth it.

25. Descending into SFO through the fog and over the water…always takes my breath away for a second.

24. You gotta love friendly small talk with your Target cashier.

23. Checking out the pre-Broadway runs of shows that will be Tony winners in just a few years. Oh, to be able to say, “I saw it when.”

22. The Stairway Walks.

21. How many cities have built their own island, just for entertainment purposes?

20. The Giants winning the World Series – if you were in the city that night, you really felt like part of a 1,000,000-person family.

19. Can’t afford tickets to the SF Opera? No problem. They perform for free in Golden Gate Park, and simulcast certain operas to the big screen in AT&T Park.

18. Who needs Missed Connections? We’re not afraid to just talk to each other.

17. Visit the Dickens Faire at the Cow Palace in December, to get your 19th-century-London fix.

16. Sourdough bread is everywhere. Often scooped out, with soup in the middle.

15. If someone says, “How are the reviews for that show?” a valid answer is, “The little man is sitting up straight and clapping.”

14. If you don’t mind battling the tourists…a hot fudge sundae at Ghirardelli Square sure hits the spot.

13. San Francisco is like a thumbnail version of all the things that are awesome about the state of California.

12. Having the choice between taking public transit or driving yourself. San Franciscans love choice. You might even say we’re pro-choice.

11. Even the homeless people are friendly. San Francisco has some of the most polite homeless people ever.

10. You gotta give this city bonus points for springing up on those crazy hills.

9. I love me some shopping in Union Square. Especially at Christmas time!

8. The BART platforms have marks on the ground where the doors will line up. Make prewalking even easier.

7. Right across the Golden Gate Bridge from the bustling city, you can visit ancient, immense sequoias in Muir Woods.

6. This week, State Sen. Mark Leno introduced legislation that would require history classes to teach LGBT history, in an effort to increase awareness and thus reduce bullying.

5. 60 degrees year round, with a week of summer and a week of winter. Just enough time to enjoy the heat or the rain, and then back to regularly scheduled programming.

4. Drinks and dancing in the Castro.

3. After the 1906 earthquake and fire, Jack London said, “San Francisco is gone.” Well, we certainly proved him wrong. We are a resilient city of tenacious people.

2. I mean…I’m here. : )

1. In fact, lots of people leave the Bay Area…but lots of people come back home. There must be a reason why. I suppose it’s because it’s awesome!

 

Categories
Endings Memoir Sentiment

Estate sale

This weekend Drew’s family had an estate sale at the house of a family member who passed away over the summer.  The purpose was to clean out the house of as much stuff as possible so they can get the house on the market.  Everything was set up inside the house so people would come in and wander around to look at everything.  There were boxes of books lining the driveway up to the garage, where there were tools and two (gorgeous) steamer trunks and an exercise machine that we all took turns trying.

I had matinees both days, but I went down with Drew in the morning around 7:30 each day, and stayed until 11:00.  The first day that 3 1/2 hours was packed with people snapping things up, including a guy who right off the bat wanted all 35 sets of salt and pepper shakers.  Edie and I spent the next 15 minutes wrapping them all up in newspaper.  He came in every so often and said things like, “Oh, look at that little raccoon figurine – that’s cute, throw that in too.”  I wish I’d gotten a picture of all of the salt and pepper shakers the way they were set up, but by the time I started thinking about taking pictures, all that was left on the table was this ashtray:

(Obviously there’s stuff on the table around it.  I exaggerated.)

In the bedroom there were these two portraits, and I’m not sure why there are two of them.

In the other bedroom, these dolls:

In the kitchen: this bowl, which surprisingly was still there on Sunday afternoon.

We also still had many puzzles at the end of the weekend.

The second day was less busy but people still came.  It was raining in Redwood City and not good garage sale weather.  But we did get rid of the steamer trunks, a bed and nightstand, and some miscellaneous stuff.  Overall, the difference in the house was astounding from Saturday morning to Sunday afternoon.

It was weird – watching people fill plastic grocery bags with the small details that used to make up a person.  I found myself getting suspicious of things: why are you taking that entire box of old books?  Is one of them worth a million dollars and you’re sneaking it out to sell it on eBay?  Where are you going with that picture of a little girl dressed like the Virgin Mary?  Do you even have a cassette player?  What are you going to do with those tapes of CATS and Barbara Streisand?  Then as I watched the house empty out, including all the furniture, I got really motivated to clean up some my own stuff.

Among the stuff we came home with: a cuckoo clock, a cigarette holder, some fur hats, a giant area rug (for donation to MTC), and a copy of Emily Post’s Etiquette book (it has a chapter telling you the proper etiquette if you have an audience with the Pope!).  And yes, I recognize the irony in bringing home more stuff while I’m thinking about thinning my stuff out.

In conclusion: Estate sale ended up being super successful, and it was really fun being down there and helping out with this big project.  I wish I could have stayed for the entire day, especially on Saturday, when it was really hopping.

And, the story of the salt and pepper shakers guy is that he’s a bartender.  He spent another hour and a half browsing and drove away finally in a fully loaded car.  I’m just glad we weren’t enabling a hoarder.  Hopefully.

Categories
cars Drew Fiction Sentiment

The fuzz and the guts

My first speeding ticket happened when I was driving back from school clothes shopping in Ukiah with a friend from Mendocino.  My third speeding ticket happened when I was rushing to Solano’s Beauty and the Beast rehearsal in Suisun City, after I had missed the exit southbound and was already running late and didn’t actually know where Suisun City was.

My second speeding ticket happened after a family lunch in Santa Rosa, and I was headed back to Davis and was trying to find the exit for 37 at San Rafael, but I missed it and got almost to the Golden Gate Bridge, and I was trying to make it back for an IS event that night, and (I know now that) all that highway south of San Rafael is 55 mph, and a cop pulled out of a speed trap just north of the bridge and got me.

I drive past that speed trap every single day (never going more than 62 mph) and every single day I think of that speeding ticket.  I haven’t actually seen a cop there again, even though I check every time, and anyway there is always someone cruising along in the fast lane.  But it’s strange that I could think of something that happened in 2003, almost every single day.

Nanowrimo starts on Monday so I figure one of two things will happen: I will either disappear from this blog, or I will post snippets of the amazing Nano writing I’m sure I’ll be doing.  In the meantime, here’s a picture of the pumpkins we carved today while we watched Anastasia and sang along.

Categories
Fiction Sentiment

Bryant Park 2007

I finally got all the old stuff off of my old laptop, and now I can go through it at my leisure and delete all the not-absolutely-necessary pictures and beginnings of stories and old AIM conversations.  I’ve already unearthed some good stuff.  Like this poem.  So get ready.

I’ve been hooked on sestinas since studying Elizabeth Bishop’s Sestina in high school.  It’s a complicated form, and I like some guidelines in poetry.  I have cobbled together a couple that I like: one called The Morning After, which is conveniently about Drew, and then this one.

BRYANT PARK
1/25/07

I am watching a grandfather skating around the ice
At Bryant Park, holding on to his granddaughter’s hand.
They are wearing handmade sweaters, red and blue.
The ice is fake and white, a device of the city,
But I believe it, as I believe the pine trees that scream,
Yes!  Foliage grows in New York City!  It’s fresh and clean!

I’ve taken two showers already today, but don’t feel clean.
I don’t think I can keep blaming it on the city.
I keep seeing your face, the memory encased in ice
Like I can still feel the vibration of the scream
Some people say ice is clear but I’ve seen it blue
I slowly pull my woolen glove from my cold hand.

The pocket opens reluctantly to admit my hand
The photo inside makes me want to scream
The storylines are old and faded, but still clean
The edges of the photo are stained a pale eggshell blue
My blood runs cold as I look back to the ice
And see the new disaster blooming in the city –

A lot can go unnoticed in the city.
A lot of people can get away from crimes, crystal clean
Over the happy laughter, I almost hear the man scream
As the little girl’s grandfather goes down on the ice
I don’t see him ever let go of her hand
As her red sweatered form falls down upon his blue.

Someone scoops up her body, crushing orange on blue,
And they try to hurry her off the ice
I hope someone has alerted the authorities of the city
And that someone else is holding her hand
That poor little girl – this morning she was so clean –
She hasn’t even realized that she should scream.

Finally her scream comes out of the blue,
And suddenly my hand feels so much more clean.
The pulse of the city keeps beating, strong as ice.

Categories
Not awesome Sentiment

Hormones

My parents say that I didn’t go through a really long angry-teenager phase where I slammed doors and hated everyone.  They said there was a week or two where they would say “Good morning” and I would say “Shut up” and then one day it was over just like that.

I have one specific memory of getting into this big blow-out fight in the car on the way home from somewhere, it might even have involved all four of us.  I remember stomping into the house, fuming, slamming the door to my room and turning on the radio.  The song that came on was one that my friends and I had been listening to nonstop, and we loved it.  The familiar melody instantly calmed me down, and I sat down on my bed and listened to the whole song.  Then I went back out into the kitchen, smiling and ready to make up after our fight, and instead of being grateful to have a happy daughter back, my mom exclaimed in annoyance, “What happened to you, why are you so calm?!”

And that magical song, my friends, was LeAnn Rimes’ “How Do I Live.”

Categories
Sentiment Theatre Work

Time for thinking doesn’t necessarily lead to deep thinking.

Tomorrow, we open.  Which means for the last week or so, I’ve had plenty of time for thinking (sitting backstage in the dark) but no time for writing any of it down.  But here are some things I’ve thought about.

One of the actors (Craig) has a t-shirt with Sesame Street characters on it, in a kind of artistic rendering.  He said he bought it so his 3-year-old daughter would think he was cool.  And I was looking at this t-shirt and thinking about how if my dad had worn it for me when I was that age, I probably would have worried (quietly, without saying anything to anyone) that that’s not what the characters I knew from TV looked like.  I was a very specific child, and allowed for very little leeway in the way I “knew” things to be.  Example: I had just learned how to write my name in cursive, and my babysitter’s daughter, who was maybe 4 years older than me, was showing me her signature.  Her name also began with an S, and she was writing it with all lowercase letters – something I’m sure everyone does at some point, something I definitely did and sometimes still do – but my 7 or 8 year old mind COULD NOT grasp that this was okay.  But I didn’t dare bring that up, because on top of being stubbornly unable to look at things from slightly different angles, I was also painfully shy.  So I just worried, that’s the feeling I remember the most, just worrying, because Shonna didn’t know any better and was writing her name with a lowercase S.

Similiarly, I have always had issues recognizing guys when they change their facial hair.  I don’t know why.  It’s the same with girls and major hair changes.  I’m not talking about people I know, I’m talking about acquaintances and movie stars.  Except in one instance: I don’t know how old I was, but based on the setup of our living room, I was pretty young.  And I was sitting on the floor watching TV, and then I heard someone come into the living room and sit down on the couch behind me.  I turned and there was a strange clean-shaven man in my house.  He looked at me and smiled and waved.  I smiled back and then turned back toward the TV, supremely freaked out.  I’m not sure at what point later that day I realized that this was my dad, who had just shaved off his full beard.

What else did I think about during this week of sitting…  Remember when I said that I never know when to leave a party?  I think, to put a positive spin on it, I want to squeeze every last drop of joy out of an experience.  When Drew and I went to see 13 at MTC over the summer, I went upstairs to drop something in the Production Manager’s box, and I was so bittersweet sad because I thought I’d never be back to work another show.  And now here I am, wringing out every ounce of enjoyment.  No more guesswork and no “path not taken” wishing.

Then I think about how much I like some of the people I’ve met, and I’m glad that I have met them.  Last Saturday I randomly saw the stage manager from the first show I did at MTC, and an actor from the reading I stage managed between Equivocation and Woody Guthrie, and the three of us went to get soup from Whole Foods and catch up.  And I had a blast, for like 45 minutes.  But he’s moving to New York and she’s quitting stage managing to work a real job at Pixar, and I’m like, that’s inspiring and hopeful.

I’ve done a lot of circular thinking this week.  Also a lot of reading.  Also I put together and mailed in my application to be a California substitute teacher.

Categories
Endings Not awesome Sentiment Tomato

*Insert air violin*

RIP tomato plant.

It’s been getting shabbier and shabbier, and while there are still lots of green tomatoes on it, they didn’t seem to be ripening or growing any bigger.  I still watered it and fed it, but I wondered if the weather lately (ping ponging back and forth from hot to foggy) had done a number on it, or maybe it had gotten sick, or maybe I just inadvertently killed it somehow.

Last Tuesday there were people here, and one of them, acting unknowingly as my grief therapist, assisted me in first pinching off all of the dead leaves.  From there it was a slippery slope to me shouting “Let’s just pull it!”  A few people had told me that even if the plant is dead, you can take the branches and hang it upside down and the tomatoes will ripen.  When we tried to pull the plant out of the dirt, the entire 5 gallon block of Miracle Gro and roots came with it, which is when it occurred to us that this kitty litter bucket might have been too small for the size of the plant.

My therapist suggested we cut it in half and plant half in another bucket, but plants don’t come with dotted lines down the middle, and I was in a state of exhileration at this point.  So we hacked off the branches with fruit on them and hung them upside down, and then kicked all the crunchy leaves on the floor off the balcony.

The next day when I peeped out onto the balcony I beheld the saddest sight: some leaning over, leafless, scrawny branches, a mess of carnage on the floor, and a couple branches tied up with baby blue yarn, bearing tomatoes that I have to admit to myself will probably never be edible.

The weird thing is that I don’t really remember what prompted the slaying.  It feels sort of like looking back on a drunken or just very late night.  It’s somewhere between the “Oops, I shouldn’t have cut my own bangs” and “Oops, it wasn’t a good idea to slaughter my pet pot bellied pig and serve it up with barbecue sauce.”  Thank God this was “just” a plant and not a pet.  And thank God I never got around to naming it.

My basil is dead (although I didn’t really expect that to work out either, as I just bought a little basil plant from Trader Joe’s and stuck it in dirt) but the rosemary seems to be thriving.

I’ll try again with the tomatoes next year.

I had to clean everything off the balcony and get rid of the evidence because it was depressing me.  And making me feel a little guilty, honestly.

I’m not leaving you with a picture because I want you to remember the good old days, the days of lushness and prosperity.

I close my eyes only for a moment then the moment’s gone…
Dust in the wind…All we are is dust in the wind.

Categories
Awesome Beginnings cars Drew Family Memoir Sentiment

One year: California

 

I can hardly believe it, but a year ago today Drew and I arrived in California with a van packed full of our stuff (see above) and a camera full of pictures from our warp speed drive from NYC.  We arrived one day ahead of schedule (earning us back a day’s refund on our rental car – totally worth it).

I am so happy that we decided to drive back.  Driving across the country was kind of inspiring.  I just flipped through the Facebook album I made when we got back, and there are some really great pictures in there.  A lot of the landscape and the way it changed over 3000 miles.

Iowa, one of the best states.
I think this is Nebraska...I have like 15 pictures of this labeled "Void 1," "Void 2," etc.
Colorado, or Wyoming, something like that.

One year later, I still think it was the right thing for us to do, to come back.  I don’t think that we “gave up” or that New York “got the best of us,” especially considering we had a pretty sweet setup out there.  It was a good life for three years but I guess we both knew it wasn’t going to be our life forever, and it was time to get that party started.

Right now, Liz and Bill are packing up their lives: putting a ton of boxes in storage, giving away a bunch more, and packing up a few suitcases and their cat, and in a week they’ll be flying out to New York City.  They will go from the airport to their sublet in Brooklyn (sound familiar, anyone?) and try to orient themselves to a lifestyle completely unlike what they’ve been living.  While a little part of me is jealous over this blank slate, most of me is just plain excited for them…while also being relieved that I don’t have any packing/unpacking in my near future.

I am ready for an NYC vacation, so hopefully we can get it together soon.

In the meantime, I can see the Pacific Ocean from where I’m sitting, and even though I just saw my parents less than a week ago, I’ll see them again next weekend.  It’s 68 degrees here and I’m wearing socks to keep warm (sorry, New York friends).  I miss New York, but not the way I missed California.  Plus, think of the stories to tell my kids about my reckless youth.

Categories
Fiction Friends Sentiment

Finishing

Katie found this in her house.  It’s from Music Circus 2004.  Don’t have any more background than that, but I kind of like it.  At least it’s not angsty, right?