Dress rehearsal tonight. The person who is renting me the Victorian Mourning dress is a no-show today. Now I've got to find a plan B, and I'm working until 5:30.

Oy.

Life is Hellish...but only in a good way.

I'm working retail. I'm understudying The Emperor's New Clothes of which I'm doing all the Saturday performances, and days when the Empress has weekday matinees of her other show. I've just been hired to costume design Fiddler on the Roof and Seussical for the student training part of my Children's Theater. I was called in with 8 days notice to costume Woman in Black for OCT. That opens Friday. Rehearsals for The Princess and the Pea begin in April.

On top of that I spend every waking second that I'm not in rehearsal, and neither is He (since His show goes into tech next week) driving south to spend quality time. There's lots of Lattes and Pepsi in my diet at the moment.

We were standing in the checkout line looking (I was looking, He was heroically offering support of my enthusiasm for decor) at the shabby chic and do-it-yourself design magazines. There was one beautiful living room, painted robin's egg blue with eclectic furniture, kitschy afghans, bookcases lining the walls, and a vase of flowers on the table. I showed Him, and He said, "yes, but if this were a house YOU lived in, there'd be a half empty Pepsi can here (pointing), a half drunk coffee here (pointing), shoes here and here, and whatever project you're currently working on taking up this chair. And every cabinet door open. I had to give him that one. Though I've been much better on the cabinet door front. And the lining my shoes up next to his on the doormat front. (They look very cute and tiny next to His) I'm still bad at the half-drunk Pepsi front, but that, we've decided, is his fault. Every time I open a Pepsi, he decides we need to spoon on the couch, and it's impossible to drink sideways from a can. Maybe we can invest in straws.

I've been working on new Emma Jeans items for the past month, but the construction is happening in fits and starts. When done, I should have a whole line of tie dresses, a coat, and a purse. I've ordered garment care labels bulk off eBay, so this round should look even more professional.

I'm off to sew!

Birthday Mishaps.

Last Sunday Alan, my sister, her boyfriend and myself toodled back to my hometown for my Dad's birthday. I loaded up the car with his birthday and the family's Christmas presents. Alan drove while I memorized lines in the passenger seat.

It was a great day. Opening presents. The semi-annual purging of my mother's closet. The presentation of my Manolo Blahniks my mother bought me at a thrift store for $1. Lunch at Miners. A bit of shopping. Then back over the pass because the rains were starting up again.

On the way home, Alan drilled me on lines. After a particularly nasty patch of fog, he reached up to turn on the reading light, and hit the sunroof button instead.

Those of you who know my car know what happened next. Those of you who don't, need an explanation. When I bought my car my sunroof worked beautifully. It was lovely on those hot sunny California days to open the roof and have the wind blow my hair as Andrea and I sang our way down the coastal highway (usually on the way to David's Bridal).

One day my best friend Wendy, her daughter, and myself were on our way home from eating Italian on the Paseo Nuevo in Santa Barbara, when a weird whacking sound from the roof of my car. The weather stripping had come loose and was being caught by the wind. Wendy, as a stopgap measure, cracked open the sunroof to see if she could push it back down. Her hand couldn't quite reach, so she pushed the button to open the roof further. The sunroof, obliging, closed on her hand. She had pushed the wrong arrow.

Picture this: me driving down the highway at 70mph, Wendy, her hand trapped, trying to push every button and threatening to kick out the sunroof if it won't open. Raquel screaming with laughter in the backseat. Eventually Wendy did get her hand out, but the sunroof was permanently damaged. Oh, it will open. But closing, now, it does in it's own timeframe. Which is fine when you live in a part of the country where rain is a freakish occurance. Then I moved to Seattle.

If you've made it this far, you should know that my sunroof has only been opened once since I moved here. One sunny stretch of endless summer days, I risked it. Three days later it finally would close, but luckily, the sun stayed. Later that year, I left town to visit a friend, and left my car behind for my roommate Kambria, and my friend Denise (who was in town house-sitting) to use. I got a frantic call three days into the trip. They'd accidentally pushed the button for the roof instead of the light. Now the roof was open. And it had started to snow. They covered the roof with plastic bags in desperation. By the time I returned home they'd managed to get it to close, but there was a new piece of paper taped to the ceiling of my car with these words: Do NOT touch this button!!!!

I kept the sign up for years. Recently, however, I took it down, feeling it lacked the elegance I was going for (Never mind the layers of dust and fast food bags littering my car - a sign would be too much).

So back to the original narrative. Alan, myself, my sister and her boyfriend, were driving down the highway at 60+mph, with an open sunroof, and a rainstorm. We pulled over after a few minutes of frantic pushing, pulling, tugging, and begging. I turned off the car and restarted it a few times - sometimes that works. After ten minutes we realized we needed to be getting home soon, and were going to be wet either way. So, in a braintrust moment, I fished under the passenger seat, brought out my pink Brighton umbrella with cherries on it, and passed it back. Allie and James, giggling, found a way to open the umbrella in the backseat, and we drove the remaining 40 miles home with the floor heat blasting, and occasional apologies to the frigid passengers in the back.

I took my car in for an oil change two days later, and begged them, please, to get it to close again. Not fix it, but CLOSE it.

Perhaps I should put the sign back up.

Yoga, 10,000 IUDs of Vitamin D and a rather expensive sunlamp. That's how to beat Seasonal Affective Disorder, I'm finding. It took my third winter in Seattle to figure it out, but now we know! Finally I can walk outside on a cloudy day and NOT feel the grey seeping into my pores!

Still retailing. In rehearsals for Emperor's New Clothes. Yesterday we learned a cha-cha. It's my favorite song in the show, and my favorite dance as well. I wish I was playing the swindler more than once, but that's the nature of understudying. I get to go on as the Empress half a dozen times, so I actually sat with the director and got a few character notes yesterday. The dancing plus last night's yoga class, every muscle in my body is a teeny bit satisfactorily sore today. Yay exercise!

Alan and I are going home this weekend for my Dad's birthday. And Christmas, since Mom and Dad didn't come to Seattle, and I worked the day before and after. I have a lovely pair of Manolos with my name on them. My mother found them at a second hand store and called me to see if I wanted them. IF I WANTED THEM???? Baby's first brand-name shoe!

I'm off to drink some coffee. Also vital to fighting S.A.D. Being an upper and all that!

Emperor's New Clothes has started rehearsing. I'm very excited to be back with another show, though sad not to be doing all the performances (I'm swinging two roles)

Still retail whoring for the time being, though working on getting a waitressing job. Tips make it so much faster to save money.

I'm down in Renton most of the time, which explains the lengthy absences. His birthday was last week, so most of the week was spent stretching out the actual day as long as possible. Since my birthday took up most of a week and a half, his had to at least last longer than the day itself.

My hair has gotten so long that my musical director asked if I was growing it out. I said no, just can't afford a haircut at the moment. She called in a favor from her daughter who owns a salon north of me and now I have a haircut. Hoorah. Though I already have bangs this week because Alan wanted to see what I look like with them. Very French. I think I may try a bob when I get my cut.

Favorite line from church today: "And what did King George say when the colonists announced they were leaving? 'Jolly Good. Have a nice time. Don't forget to drink tea.'?"

2009 in Review

My year-end review of status updates from my facebook page. All in all, a pretty good summary of my year. Relationship excepting. Because it's kind of cheesy to talk incessantly about your boyfriend online. Even if he's the best ever. Even if you're madly head over heels, rainbows and bunnies smitten. See? Cheesy. But other than that, here's the year...

A Three Show Week...

Wednesday, for my birthday, Alan managed to get us balcony seats to 5th Avenue's production of White Christmas. It was a lovely show - quite different from the film, but still retaining the same feel. What it lost of the main four characters was gained by the secondary roles. Luckily the choreography number that I've never liked didn't make it into the live show. At the curtain call, snow fell from machines above the audience. Alan and I were both distracted trying to figure out what the snow was made of, and which poor sap had to sweep up afterwards. Then we met his friend, who played Phil Davis, and Eric and went for drinks across the street.

Friday night we went to see a late night Fight Choreography show. Luckily it was at the same theater I needed to return some borrowed costumes to, and at the end of the night, they asked if I was interested in costuming their winter show. I told them I was. Drinks afterwards with the cast here too.

Saturday was a panto of Jack and the Beanstock - great fun to laugh, yell, hiss, and throw stuffed peas at the giant. The humor was right up my alley, and Alan enjoyed watching me giggle at the bad puns. We spent time on the computer searching for lyrics from the nonsense number they started the second act with. They are (after much searching): "eine kleine fliegel flugel aufgeweckene biegel bugel ergeschplitten lauteboomer bird!"

Now the fun ends, and I'm back to being a retail whore for Christmas. Good sales, though, and yesterday a woman sang my praises ending with referring to me as "massive." Huh.

So, the event of the week....an emergency room visit!

Yesterday, when I was getting just getting ready to leave for my show, I hit my head on a bookcase and had to go to the emergency room instead.

It didn't seem too bad at first. My head didn't hurt, and it stopped bleeding quickly. I kept asking Alan if it was possible to do the shows first, then take care of it. He convinced me (only after he showed me my head in the mirror) that it probably needed to be looked at.

So I went to the hospital, meanwhile frantically calling my troupe to see if we could find my understudy last minute. I did need staples. 7 of them. The proceedure wasn't bad. It's far easier to get staples on the back of your head then on your nose like the last time...watching someone put stitches right between your eyes is unnerving.

I'd asked my director if she wanted me to give up both shows to my swing, but she asked if I would please come and finish out the run. So I went to the second show of the day, carefully put my costume and crown over my fresh stitches, and did the run. The crown fell off my head at one point, and I had to shove it back on sight unseen. It didn't hurt, but I was worried that it would. The local anesthetic held out until about midway through, then I started to feel it.

My head aches a little this morning, but otherwise my biggest debate is how to hide staples at work. If hats are not an option.

Oy.

Thanksgiving

This year was a low key Thanksgiving. Dinner with the Logsdon's, Allie, Alan, and my parents in Seattle. We had several non-turkey meats and all the standard fare. Then Becky, Mom and I hit the Thanksgiving night pre-black Friday sale at Michael's. I spent that night at the homeless shelter - my second time that week, as I was called in to cover someone Else's shift on Tuesday as well.

Friday I woke early, and stayed up. After everyone else left to exercise, Mom and I watchd tv and played with the new kitten, who Becky re-named "Smudge." That evening all and sundry watched the opening night of Alan's play, "A Christmas Story." It went much better than he'd expected with a cast of kids and a day off between final dress and opening night. The audience expected to be happy, and applauded when Farkus made his first exit, when the leg lamp appeared, and as the bunny suit walked down the stairs (with the actor inside. Not by itself). I found the first act extremely entertaining thanks to a "Bucket of Rum" drink at the Tiki Room that actually came in a plastic bucket.

Saturday was a late day. I made my Christmas cards with Becky, took Mom, Dad and Mocha to Goodwill-by-the-Pound, they took me in turn to the Pacific Fabrics Outlet, and then I dressed up and went to Alan's to see a play, which in the end we decided not to see as neither of us wanted to leave the couch and two more seasons of Friends.

Tomorrow we're off for an adventure to an unnamed Bavarian Themed Village...

Oedipal Duplex Review

Oedipal Duplex Review

In the only review I've found so far of the play I costumed (which closed this afternoon), my costumes were mentioned in passing as follows:

Tyler Perry's Othello was Oedipus' next door neighbor/good buddy much like how Cosmo Kramer was to Jerry Seinfeld. He was cool, sly and at the end wore roller skates and serenaded himself in a corner. And he was a snappy dresser.