I woke up more worn out than I'd gone to bed, and it's all Spiderman's fault.
[I have no idea what led to me dreaming up Spiderman singing "Don't Rain on My Parade" and other showtunes as some sort of event for Cooksey, but there you go.]
If you stand in my bedroom at the exact right time of day, there's a small patch of sunlight - about two inches or so - where the light creaks in between the blinds and curtains. I like to stand with my big toes together, grasping all the light I can before it shifts out of focus for another day.
Meanwhile, four stuffed bags of clothing, etc. just left my apartment for Goodwill. Hurrah!
Guess who found her very first pair of show blacks (the shirt with the silver snaps that were probably actually a poor choice for backstage-wear! the pants with ALL the pockets and the nifty zipper on the side where the mini flashlight clipped on) while cleaning out closets and had to take a pause.
I need to pick up a hope chest, because I think that's precisely where you store clothing that you aren't planning on wearing again but emotionally cannot bear to part from. Though I think other people use them for wedding dresses and baby clothes, while I'd currently be housing my all-time favorite blue jeans and the capris I remember wearing on my first day as a theatre major and summerstock employee.
Man, I wish I could've had a longer time north with the Cooksey Collective, but I'm grateful that I was allowed any time away (during *tech week*, no less) ... though I suppose I did threaten not to be available for the show if we couldn't find a way for me to do both. (Ahem.) Still, it was lovely to spend time with the family, contribute my portion to making the day run as smooth as possible (and soothe a bride), and fake Russian folk dance to pop music at the end of the night.
Meanwhile, my actors decided to tell me they missed me by sending jokey request texts. Sorry, all. You cannot have extra cushions, I do not know where your special pencil went, and I did not sanitize your pickle jars before splitting town.
I can still feel tightness in my leg from a charley horse I had upon waking up this morning, fifteen hours ago. Of course - it's tech week.
I ate a whole pot of mashed potatoes with dinner, as I'm clearly pretending I don't have to fit in a bridesmaid dress at the end of the week.
(Might just be a night for denial, though, as I'm also watching a zombie movie after dark like I don't know how my brain works. Hopefully the Regency era dresses will distract me in this particular case.)
Could we all please retire the jokes and comments about "We couldn't survive without you!" and "You can't take a vacation - what will we do if we need you" and the ilk? I get that you're trying to be funny, but - after the better part of a decade - I'm tired of hearing them. The company survive for forty years before I showed up. If I'm the only thing holding us together, than people need to be updating resumes for when these jokes send me out the door.
It blesses my world in ways I cannot adequate express the overwhelming number of years I've managed to grab time with my family right around the anniversary of moving to Texas (aka far, far away from them all).
See also: next week, when Okoboji comes to Houston for cup stacking.
(We're about 30 seconds from a character who just set an animal trap earlier in the scene from accidentally stepping in it.)
Oh, David Niven. I love you.
If I had to stub my toe so severely that it still appreciates ice a week later, at least I did so during the long Houston summer, where I can get away with wearing flip-flops all the live long day.
There are zero--count 'em zero--activities happening for the theater this weekend, so yahoo for all of us. (Per usual, things I should be doing: laundry, grocery shopping, general cleaning // What I'll do instead: maybe go to the pool?)
My "running on four hours of sleep in the last twenty-four" got a tiny boost, as I fell into a dead slump for about twenty minutes before tonight's production meeting. So, y'know, that means I'm okay to stay up and watch this foreign film about livestock.
Dear watermelon, I'm so glad you were still here waiting for me, as you're still beyond delicious (and we had way too much food at the retreat anyway).
Today I was able to see where I'll be officing in the new building and also had my first injury in the new building. For one, I wanted to write something on the walls (they aren't painted yet); for the other, I'm still icing my toe and will be in flip-flops for the foreseeable future.
Picture (not of my toe, as I'll spare you) to come, if I can ever get my tablet to comply.
(Well, *that* post sat there for awhile. Also, why is it now the end of June? Who authorized *that?*)
Right now I have an amazing bruise. Pictures don't do it justice. It's a couple inches wide in all directions, a symphony of blues and purples - except for a line of pink across the top center, right where the bench that caused my fall also plowed into my skin. Careful icing over the past day finally knocked down the swelling, though it still feels nice since the whole blotch is that combination of solid lump / tender to the touch that you get with some injuries.
[For the sake of my mother, who I can tell just wants to know what happened to her daughter: we had auditions last night, and I left a bench used in the current Mainstage show on the ground next to the stage to use as a quick step up and down. (You can already see where this is going, but I'll continue.) In stepping down mid-way through the night, life suddenly went into slow motion as the bench tipped forward under my foot. I had enough time to think "Oh. I'm falling. Why am I still falling?" before clocking into the ground. Physics and geometry met up to beat up my left leg by landing the bench *and* my full weight on my lower calf.]
I look forward to all the shades of blue to follow. Also, to forever being a story told by the two company actors onstage at the top - that time Hannah fell off the stage and immediately walked away to continue being a stage manager. (Not included in this story: the minute I spent doubled over in pain in a corner of the theater before nonchalantly returning to the lobby where no one knew I'd fallen.)
I could've volunteered to be on-site production aid for the TAA showcase...
...but something else came up.
I hadn't been inside the gates at the property since November, but the Production Manager had his parents in town and called in a birthday favor. Hoo doggies, had the building changed from that steel shell that I wasn't even allowed to approach.
I've had such mixed emotions about this building. We've been hearing about this building for the entire time I've been at ADP, but it's only been in the most recent (in a decade of waiting) that there's been real progress. Ten years is a long time to devote to anything, let alone a holding pattern. Now that it's almost here, I've spent a lot of time in thought (and prayer) about whether I'm supposed to be in that building. Today didn't completely change that, but I did think many, many thoughts about "my booth" ... so, we'll see.
(I would just like to remember this moment forever.)
Standing in the lobby, full Super Stage Manager costume present, checking in with box office about remaining tickets. Bunch of elementary school students in the bathroom lines on the other side of the room.
Every single time I am able to fix something on my own (especially if it's something where I need to plot out how to approach and solve), I think of my Dad tinkering in the basement with the aid of his home fix-it books.
I know it's the stress of tech week talking (because *oh man!* am I not taking the stress of this particular tech week well), but I really want to make an email label called "You've got to be kidding me" but I'm afraid of the number of things I'd file there.
The Perfect Storm, Volcano, World War Z, Twister (on VHS)...
[Just making a list]
So, if my laptop is making the click of death and I've already replaced the hard drive at least once, I'm pretty sure that means it's time to buy a new laptop, huh? Or, I can keep ignoring it for another month ... like I've already done, huh? :)
(While we're ignoring things, also forget the fact that I've recently purchased a tablet. And that my external hard drive is getting buggy and probably also needs to be replaced. The plus side of losing my wallet in February is that I have an extra buffer leftover from subsisting on cash for a few weeks. Also, I'm Midwest cheap. This is not a problem.)
Oh, Sundance trip journal. Someday I will finish you.
This post brought to you by the fact that I wanted to post something, but don't really have anything important to say. Unless you wanna hear about me cleaning out my fridge tonight......
I promise I'll write about Sundance and my lost billfold eventually, but this is so much more fun that, well, one of those.
My 'Roos are soon going to give up the ghost (I've already re-glued the soles more times that I can possible count), which led to me discovering that they were a favorite shoe of Ozzie Smith, former Cardinal. So, clearly I'm never gonna wear another brand of sneakers again.
Further helping this discovery: the easiest shipping option appears to be AmazonUK, and they make ballet flats (sans pockets) as well. In black! Ballet flats!
Blue polka dot trainers, why are you not in my size?
Oh, hey there, twenty after two a.m.! I'm just sitting here, writing work emails and pretending that my sore throat hasn't come back just in time for my trip. Y'know, as you do when you're a professional stage manager with a whole bunch of stubborn in her genetic code.
Hey. Hey-hey-hey. You wanna know what's the quickest way to send me off a rage cliff? Reply to an email, but don't answer every question.
Today I had the fanciest meal I've eaten since the *last* time I had a meal with the Artistic Director. Fantastic potatoes, excellent table bread, creamy cheesecake. Chicken was a little dry, but that's okay. I tried calamari for the first time. I also might've contributed to someone getting fired (or at least demoted from the VIP room), though it wasn't my fault that the waitress dropped my knife down my back while clearing my salad plate. (Thank you, manager who felt the need to offer to pay for dry cleaning. My $20 shirt appreciates that you think it would need such attention.)
I have cheesecake and pie in my fridge. 2016's leftovers are treating me well.
Things I've learned on my job: how to identify the sound of the theater's front door while sitting in the library on the other side of the wall; how quickly I can get to the lobby to intercept the patron who just walked in late
So, I'm pseudo-house managing tonight's show, because the actual HM is relatively new and took a seat in the house (not on an aisle, not on the back row) to watch the show ... and then late arrivals strolled in through the front door. And one had a cellphone they wanted to leave with the HM, in case of emergencies.
On one hand, it's nice. I always feel super-weird sitting in the house like a regular human patron, ready to watch a performance, like I don't spend 50% of my time in this building in a dark area elevated above the seating. On the other, the whole point of me being here tonight is for me to sit like a regular person, in a fancy opening night outfit, without having to put in additional effort. I'm glad my parents formed me into a responsible person, someone who will step up when they see something that needs to be handled, but man! it is sometimes a drag on the lazy muffin I wish I could be instead.
[Minus the specific details and phrase "lazy muffin", I feel I could've written this same basic blog post at any point over the last fifteen-ish years.]
Hey there, 2016. I'm just sitting here on the couch, clearing out my sinuses by singing along to Broadway cast recordings (because I'd forgotten how much that sort of activity works for me), debating whether I should dose up on cough syrup again, and suddenly realizing that I haven't actually eaten dinner yet so maybe that's why I'm feeling foggy. (Hey, I had cheese crackers and creamy jalapeno. That's kinda like a meal...)
It's okay - I have fifty-one more weeks to figure out how to Adult.