"You got your wish."

Twenty years and one day ago, I watched "Under the Tuscan Sun" for the first time. I bounced through a lot of movies that summer (Hastings had some sort of special deal for new sign-ups to their rentals program), but that was the last one I watched before getting into a car and moving to Texas. Everyone else had already gone to bed, which is probably for the best because I cried through a good portion of the end of it. I come back to it every few years, what with now being emotionally attached to it. What really hit me when I rewatched it yesterday (again, twenty years after the first time) was how much the big ending of Frances/Diane Lane not getting the life she had expected but yet still the life she had hoped for mirrored my own. I had no expectation of living in Texas for as long as I have, nor of staying with the same theatre company for all of it. I assumed I'd be married, probably a mom, and while it's technically just me, at the same time I have had years and years of taking care of actors (some of them the same ones who have become my Texas family, and some of them youth ones who have now grown up and become adults of their own). I haven't ended up with the life I expected, but yet it has still fulfilled so many wishes for what I hoped my adult life would be at the same time. So, here we are. Twenty has hit me differently than I thought it would (I kinda freaked out for a little yesterday), but I love this little life I have.

Nineteen Years Later

That magic transition where I feel completely secure in where I am and what's going on? I'm still waiting. But there are times when it happens, and maybe the truth nineteen years ago Hannah couldn't see was that that is enough.

Quick! Somebody find me one of those "things to do before you're 40" lists!

What is UP, last week of my 30s? 

(That should cover us for another year of posting, right?)

   

Here's this year's post, I guess

My plan for Monday had been to sit outside and read, eat something picnic-y (or at least "not my regular kitchen"-y), but the weather forecast looks like rain, so, now I'm looking for alternatives. Nerd that I am, the first thing that came to mind for "places with a window so I could still read while being *near* outside" was the library. (Yes, I did call myself a nerd - aloud - after having this idea.) 

Meanwhile, thirteen shows in, sixteen still to go, number of dead actors/crew still zero. (Not for lack of trying, but still.) Number of dead globes? One. Number of dead vases? Three, which feels like a miracle (or else that tape really is that good). Number of years removed from my life? Not yet known, but I should still make it to a new one - with or without an outside picnic - on Monday.

BUM BUM-BUM BUM, BUM, BUM!

If you wanna know how my sanity is going today, I've had Oklahoma's "The Farmer and the Cowman" stuck in my head ALL. DAY. Except it's not the full song, but the last two lines of the chorus, over and over and over. 

 Also it's only today, when I tried to purge the song by listening to it in its entirety and thus (more importantly) looked up the lyrics so I could post about this somewhere, that I realized I've learned the lyrics wrong. I have always heard "Cowboys dance with the farmer's daughters / Farmers dance with the ranchers' COWS." (Nope. It's "ranchers' GALS.") 

And sure, that means it's a half-rhyme with the previous section (pals/cows), but I still think it's a far superior lyric choice. They're all fighting! *Of course* one group would tell the other to dance with livestock! I thought that was the joke, and also thought it was funny enough to be sustained through multiple uses. 

 I plan to ignore the fact that I'm wrong about this lyric and stick with "cow." 

 [I love that this is my first post in about two years. All the things I could've posted in the rest of 2020 and then 2021, but nope. Ranchers' cows.]

"Anyway, I love you, darlin'"

I have a new laptop, so it's not a big surprise that I'm trying to reorganize files as I transfer them over. What *WAS* a surprise was finding that there's now readily available software to convert all the saved audio memos that I have from two cellphones back into a playable format again ... and the Sissy Pulley voicemail from 10+ years ago that just left me a sobbing mess.

Record all your loved ones. Sweet heavens, record all your loved ones.

Again doing that "answering emails late at night, but scheduling them to send like I answered them tomorrow" thing

Gal who labeled her file as her "smizing" headshot - let's be friends.

Guy who included "loses keys easily" on his special skills - let's get married. (But not actually. Honesty is good, but so is keeping track of your important belongings.)