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.)

Non-Marketable Life Skills

- ability to find a lost set of keys, no matter the size of the rehearsal space

- generally has a lozenge or mint in a pocket somewhere

- can stay upright on bus without holding anything

[And putting off finishing show reports, based on what I'm currently doing...]

Things I Love About Theater:

* Walking around an empty, dark space in the quiet beforehand.

* Listening to the banter between everyone prior to a show start, as they're prepping or waiting for show start.

* Being presented with a problem that requires an on-the-fly answer, and knowing the answer will come, often faster than I think it will.

* Hearing an audience audibly react to whatever just happened onstage.

"...and my dance audition where I will flip my hair on an urban rooftop zoomed in on my face the whole time."

I love that not only do some actors know that I'm going to be the one answering the auditions email account, meaning they can include some weird extra line among the rest of their professional email (because it'll make me laugh rather than question their sanity), but that some of them will text first to confirm I'm still in charge of the account, thus giving me a head's-up that something fun is about to hit my inbox. Gosh, I love the camaraderie of theater.

So here's where my brain is this morning.

Say whatever you will about Disney's need to remake their animated films as live action, but the thought of "have courage and be kind" hits me deep down. Naturally courageous people - who are ready to stride out into the world, able to not care about how others feel about their actions - may be less thoughtful about how their behavior affects others, and the naturally kind can become so battered by the way the world takes advantage of that tender-heartedness that it becomes scary to put yourself into the world. The notion of being brave enough to live life strongly and without hesitation while also being able to care deeply for those around you (and for yourself! have the courage to be kind to yourself!) feels so foreign to me some days, and so beautiful, tangibly close on others.

Anyway, Hiding Place closes today. Which doesn't - but also totally does - pertain to the above.

Theatre jobs are weird

There are many lovely moments I've shared with others backstage (the dance breaks, splitting up the real food after the actors have chosen not to consume it during their scenes, the endless deep dark black humor jokes that have carried us through this difficult material), but perhaps my favorite thing is the actor who has realized we're both stuck in a kneeling position at separate - but visible to each other - positions backstage at the top of Act 2, and has thus started doing bits of CATS choreography while I try not to upset the world with my giggles ... before a whistle blows and he has to be a Nazi and I have to watch to make sure actors aren't injured doing fight choreography. What a world.

Oh, HEY THERE, audition season!

Sentence I cannot include in this Very Professional Reply I'm sending to an actor who's been confused by talking to another actor about show that has multiple audition dates: "Kindly tell [NAME REDACTED] to stay out of business that isn't hers; I invited everyone to the date I invited them to for a reason."

(Or like now, when I paused mid crying jag to write a blog post)

I appear to be at the state of emotional growth where I can recognize that I'm having an emotional reaction outsized to the ...whatever that caused it, but can't stop the outburst from occurring.

For example, just now:
ONE SIDE OF MY BRAIN: There's no reason we should be crying over this.
OTHER SIDE: Oh yeah? Who's gonna stop ME! [pictures throwing a heavy item across the room]

At least I'm not *actually* throwing things?

(Probably not a sign of increased maturity, at least)

I don't know what sign this is, but my socks actually matched the rest of my outfit today (dark stripes and dark stripes) rather than existing on their own separate realm of colors per usual.

What is UP, 1+ AM!

I should probably update the links in the sidebar, as the only site that I still regularly visit is my One True Love, IMDB (and a bunch of those blogs haven't posted in years), but it's been three months since I last posted here, so I don't think the links are probably anyone else's concern, either.

I moved into Apartment Blackjack eight years ago today. Sadly, I'm probably not going to have time for city gardening, as I often do on the move-eversary, though more because I don't have the time to run somewhere for new plants what with the "running two separate shows' rehearsals and a third's audition prep" thing that is my life right now. Hey self, remind me what February was like, when there was nothing pressing going on, and why we squandered all that time?

I'm probably wish I had gone ahead and re-written blocking tonight (technically last night) when I get to rehearsal, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. I did the rest of the to-do list and answered all the audition emails, which are two small miracles.

It's been long enough since dinner that I'm hungry again, but I'm pretty sure eating something now is not going to help my falling asleep somewhere in the next PLEASE SOON.

The stream-of-consciousness of this blog post is sponsored by the year 2009.

I don't want to make a big deal out of this, but it's kinda a big deal.

(This will suffice.)

So! Zip back to earlier in 2018, when we were clearing production books from all the locations that were in JCG's name (instead of ADP). The interns mentioned that they were seeing my name on a lot of them, and wondered if I knew how many productions I had run for the Players. I joked that it was better to block out some of them, life went on, etc.

But my brain kept thinking about it. And so I made a list of times when I was lead SM.

First, it was every "show" (Mainstage or CT), but some of the Easters fit that definition, and if you include the Easters, then you might as well include the Spotlighters (heaven knows those headaches might as well count for something). Made a note of times that I covered productions or ASMed, but decided those shouldn't count to the final tally. I added up where I was, then looked ahead at when I'd hit the next big number.


Cut to about three weeks ago, when I was asked to cover the Bing Crosby Christmas concert. (There was concern that one of my many "Hannah's not stage managing a Christmas show, so let's do stuff" plans would interfere with, well, being asked to stage manage a Christmas show after all.) Even though it was described as an SM position, there were a number of things that made it sound like it might fall somewhere in-between instead. Basically, I wasn't sure if it should count on the list because there were going to be some key duties (most notably, calling light and audio cues) not part of the gig.

I run some rehearsals, send *all* the emails, negotiate some scheduling confusion, and eventually we're at the second (and final) performance. Because these are relatively new concerts, the main star is still recording them to listen back later. (In fact, he made edits between the first and second night, so way to be awesome, JB.) He had issues with the recording app on his phone, so he went onstage for A2 without a recording going ... so of course I pulled out my phone once he was set onstage and started recording on his behalf. He has one spot offstage during the act, and was talking to me in the wing while again fighting his phone. I let him know that he didn't need to worry - I was recording for him and would send the file to him after. Happy, he swapped over to the messenger app, so he could confirm that he had my number. I reminded him that I should already be in his phone (we texted a little before the first rehearsal), but it was just long enough to see I was listed as "Hannah Houston SM" in his phone.

I had already basically decided to count the concerts, but that firmed up my decision. If the star considers me the stage manager, who am I to quibble.

And so, after this [very lengthy - jeepers, Smith] to-do, be aware that this week marked my 60th production as lead SM for the Players. Ta-da.

pretend I posted earlier today, when I was re-writing cues in my call script

Currently existing in a world of...

DESIGNER: I need you to take the cue on the visual.
MY INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: If there weren't so many cues, I could actual watch the show to see where the visuals happen!


[Actually watched the show Wednesday night, for what feels like the first time since before we were off-book. Pretty sure I hit all the visuals, except for the one that I took at what I thought was "actors X DCL" and was not what the designer considered "actors X DCL." I am quite literally not going to lose any sleep over this, which is more than I can say for how I felt about the final dress.]

moments in time

I'm watching The Martian (happy sixth birthday, Curiousity rover!), eating a salad (more because the lettuce was about to go bad than for actually wanting to eat this salad), and debating if I should go back to working on WSS audition paperwork (not all my Excel sheets are alphabetical, I haven't organized headshots/resumes into what day people are coming) or if I should just call it for the day.

Probably gonna call it for the day; tomorrow wish I hadn't called it for the day. Y'know, the usual.

Twelve hours from now, my morning show will be basically done.

Oh man, I want to eat something, as I'm post-rehearsal starving, but I also want to fall asleep before midnight so I can grab the better part of eight hours before I have to be a functional stage manager again, so I probably shouldn't.


Dear Future Self, maybe we shouldn't agree to cover someone else's rehearsals while running a show of our own again. You never know when a director is trying to block the entire show in under four days, or a crew member's absence isn't going to be conveyed to the proper sources until two days before, or whatever else the universe wants to throw at us. Okay? Okay.

[eight minutes into movie]
"Is Brad already dead?"
[water gushes out of elevator]
"Oooh! Brad *is* already dead!"

I keep checking out books from the classics section of the library, hoping to finally finish off some items I never read in high school, college, etc. What media do I keep consuming instead? Disaster movies, comic books, and gossip about the Mean Girls Broadway bootleg that's being shared *everywhere*

three weeks in

So far thirty-four appears to be about realizing "I'm tired, I should just go to bed" and actually doing it instead of staying up another 2+ hours just because.

Two Lists

Things I Need to Do:
* rewrite blocking from today's rehearsal
* prep audition forms
* double-check audition emails

Things I Want to Do:
* Sleep?
* Yeah, probably just sleep

Sure, this feels like an adequate time of day to figure out such information.

So! If you *don't* include Easters and Spotlighters, my 50th ADP show as SM will be top of the 2018/2019 season.

If you *do* include them (because - oh my goodness - I had no idea how many specialty events I'd SM'd), #50 was at Smoke in 2016 (appropriate). I'll close this season at 57, and hit 60 at the end of next season, based on current assignment plans.

None of this includes ASMs, covering extensions, "PSM" for shows I'm not running but am the in-house head stage manager, etc. Egads. That's lots of life in 10+ seasons. Rep life is hard, y'all.


EDIT! (at a much more reasonable time of day)
Okay, so according to my [extremely large] quotes file, I missed another Easter show. That makes Hero Squad 3 my actual "if you include the extras" 50th, puts me at 58 by the end of this season, and 60 by halfway through next season.

In other news, do you have any idea how many separate word files I have for ADP quotes? Feels like about as many shows as I've stage managed....

Current mood: judging actors who wait until less than 24 hours before an audition to ask for a slot (and don't acknowledge the time frame)

"...joining the company of other movies that have shot in Houston, like Terms of Endearment and Pearl Harbor"

*brain stops* Did he say Pearl Harbor? What? Did an intern win a bet about sneaking in fake information? *checks IMDB* Oh, never mind then. Please shoot on any battleship you want, Michael Bay.

Other Things

* Aw...feel the 2003 flashbacks, right here in an "other things" section.

* Out 122 individual nominees, I've seen 93 of them. (I'm not counting up the individual movies themselves...at least, not right now. The statistics part of my brain will probably wanna know eventually.) Even compared to past years, that's a solid total.

* Dear all the things that were readily available on Netflix that I still haven't watched: Soon? Soon. Gonna finish some things so I don't have to do another month of Amazon.

* Anybody else interested in a "I'm sorry you didn't win any Oscars, I still love you best of all" screening of Lady Bird this week?

based on true events

One of the Canadian ice dance teams just skated to music from Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights (specifically, the last dance sequence) ... and the fact that I could recognize that instantly took me clear back to my college years, all of us on a movie trip together.

SO convenient

I didn't feel well, so I took a nap. Woke up and felt worse. So nice of illness to wait for when I was done with work for the rest of the weekend.

Yesterday was the one year anniversary of the new theater's grand opening. This post still isn't about that.

Okay, job seekers. Let's recap (as if this will make a difference):

* When submitting digital copies of your headshot and/or resume, always make sure you've included your full name in the title. I don't care what else you have there. Just make sure you aren't sending me "MT headshot 2" or "2018 resume new" or, heaven help you, "Image 1." You have no idea the frustration it brings to have to relabel your own files ... nor the joy it brings when I don't.

* Even if you already know I like you and would happily sing your praises to strangers, tell me in advance if you're including me as a reference. Don't let me find out because of that voicemail from the ignored call that I listen to three hours later. Give me time to prepare or risk me spouting forth whatever first comes to mind.

* And, because I like lists of three items or more, don't just not show up if your schedule changes. Life happens, it's okay - but send word (before, if you can; after, if you can't). Otherwise, I assume you're irresponsible and I will indeed hold that against future casting.

(Cue the spambots.)

We changed ideas, so sadly I will not be including the phrase "children's theater sexy" in last night's production report.


[I've been to NYC and MO, and through a major storm, and *this* is what brings me back to posting? Sure, why not.]

Also, the Harvey reports have a quote of the day section is really aiding my post-its.

Absolutely crashed last night, and still feel not so great this morning, but I'll take it today if it means I'm recovered by vacation next week.

In other news:
* Hey, remember when I used to routinely post an "in other news" section?

* Ended up with store credit and a free portable hard drive after Amazon said they'd delivered (when they wouldn't for another 36 hours), sent the box to the wrong address, and managed to include the wrong product on top of everything else. I am okay with all of this.

* I teared up at the end of Dunkirk, and then teared up again as I watched the projectionist fuss with the real, live reel of film at the 70mm screening.

* I was (very last minute) pulled into a PR photoshoot project to advertise the new season, so the loopy pigtails and I may end up as the face of one of the upcoming productions. (Or not. I think they scheduled eleven people for ten shows, so we'll see who makes the cut.)

(Well, technically *yesterday* was a bit of a day, as it is freshly Wednesday.)

...And suddenly, my ankle started throbbing for no apparently reason, because today was a bit of a day.

gin, cointreau, rum, syrup, absinthe, lemon

Tonight I went to an escape room/immersive theater hybrid with two people I love dearly ... and five (who turned into six) complete strangers.

Tonight I cracked open a safe (first with tools, then while listening for clicks) ... while absolutely every other person was on the other side of the room, involved in unlocking a cabinet.

Looks like we have an even 1/1 split on outgoing/introvert Hannah.

chips and green sauce for breakfast ... at 10:30a

I didn't plan my mini vacation with this thought in mind, but happy Texas-versary, self. I've had mixed emotions about Houston over the past eleven years, but every time the chance pops up, I continue to stay. (I don't think it's just because I have too many books to move, at least not anymore.)

Is the Deeper Deep Magic that all the ways this show tried to destroy me only made me stronger?

Last show this morning. Super expensive and complicated sound board was not receiving signal from computer and no one could figure out way, so we busted out the touring equipment and started half an hour late. (And, with zero direct booth feed and prep to adjust sound levels on the fly to boot.) But, leaving the booth open to the house meant I could hear the audience reactions, and leaving a headset mic on backstage (for additional onstage pick-up) meant I could hear the actors as they lived their backstage lives, too. Thinking back on it (y'know, ten hours later), it was all my favorite things about Grace and the Rotunda that I don't have in my beautiful soundproof booth now.

Anyway. Nothing like a massive problem to get everyone to focus up and put out a great performance.


[...And then I finally was able to leave the theater, and I slept for 2+ hours. It was glorious.]

(for days when the insecurity tries to burrow in)

It's nice to hear from actors who want to steal me for all their future productions, like some sort of portable, personal stage manager.

I have so many things to do. But also, sleep?

* Four auditions in four days - DONE.

* There's still three performances left this weekend.

* I keep trying to fall asleep with pencils still up in my hair. It doesn't work well.

* Must figure out a way to fall asleep with heat on lower back, but cool everywhere else because this is still Houston in June.

ACTORS!

I wish there was an industry standard number of stupid questions and/or ridiculous emails I could receive from a single actor before I could rescind their audition privileges. "Sorry, Timmy. That's the third time you asked about the audition start time, despite it never changing. I answered the first two instances, but now I'm invoking the 'Stage Manager Ain't Got Time for That' rule, and your slot will now go to someone with reading comprehension skills. You are on six months probation, and we *do* keep a list."

Of all the people who's life you should want to make easier, actors, it should be the stage manager.

the plus of bringing a computer to work is you can answer emails on one while answering other messages on the other - at the same time

Today's rehearsal:

* Actors trying to do the fight choreography in socked feet because they didn't want to wear their shoes. It's okay, they're only wielding a metal dagger and a large wooden dowel rod. (This is maybe why the under 14s shouldn't have been in the big battle.)

* A frantic actor tracking me down in the house, because the large puppet just partially snapped one arm. It's okay, the rig still functions and the other leg can still do the proper movements.

* Loud cracking sound less than an hour later, as same puppet slipped a shoulder strap, causing wearer to awkward try to get free ... and accidentally snap the other puppet arm, nearly all the way. This is less likely to be solved with wood glue and gaff tape.

* Shield is actually injuring actor's hand, because irony is at work in tech week.

* Lamppost is finally pulled from its shipping box to be assembled. It is over-glittered, has a warning sticker that its construction materials have been known to cause cancer, and the globe top is broken.

* Got to buy a back brace for a twenty-something, because it's hard to be a unicorn on stilt legs.

Y'ALL.

Thirty-three has been nothing but stress. [I mean, it's not 33's fault. It's like how 27 was my year of being super awkward. (I look back and cringe about so much that occurred that year.) But still. Anyway. So far, nothing but stress and re-reading favorite books. The one is sadly not helping the other.]

Anyway, back to emails and paperwork. See you at first rehearsal in ... ten hours.

Is it weird to really only listen to Jesus Christ Superstar at Easter?

'Tis the time of year when I'm reminded of the summer of 2005, as people spent multiple weeks calling out a continual stream of "HO-Hannah! HEY-Hannah! Hannah! Hannah! Ho!"

[This joke makes zero sense if you don't know what song I'm referencing. Sorry about that.]

I've had a real desk in my office for about a week, and the only drawer that's actually set-up and full is the snack drawer.

That feels accurate.


Productions I've Worked On During the Past Week, When I Want to Look Back and Remember Why I Was So Tired
* John, His Story / Easter (SM)
* You Can't Take it With You (Production Coordinator / SM that day the SM had the flu)
* Godspell (Auditions Coordinator / Emailer of All The Things)
* Charlotte's Web (moving set pieces)
* Lion, Witch, Wardrobe (SM, preliminary audition emails)

Oh. Um. Hi there, 2017.

A conversation.

CLERK: Do you want sauce with that?
ME: Definitely.
CLERK: What kind?
ME: Chick-fil-a. Of course.
CLERK: How many do you want?
ME: As many as you'll let me have.
CLERK: [pauses] What?
ME: Or as many as your supervisor will let me have.
CLERK: Uh, ten?
ME: Wow, really?
CLERK: The machine lets me go up to fifteen.
ME: Surprise me, then.
CLERK: [Pauses, again.] Okay, twenty.

He was not allowed to give me twenty CFA sauces. I think we both knew how this was going to end.

However, I did walk out with the equivalent of one sauce packet per nugget, so here's to the fancy ramen and improved late-night chicken nuggets in the weeks to come!

(So, no wonder I'm always so tired in January)

You know you work for a repertory theater company - with the same basic schedule every year - whenever several years worth of "On This Day" posts on Facebook suddenly all become about tech week.

Today in "Things I Learned About the New Building" News:

The audio installation guys tape sugar packets inside the cabinets to aware each other (or themselves, if they're feeling sassy) for "sweet cable jobs".

There are two packets inside the booth system.

Other people probably already have one labeled "Hannah being Hannah"

One of these days I'm gonna create an email folder labeled "Being a Busybody" or "Pointing Out Mistakes" or "Asking Leading Questions So Others Make the Same Conclusion" for all the times I see something in an email / webpage / memo / general aura around someone and Stage-Manager-Spidey-Sense kicks in.

I wonder, do the DH shudder when they receive something from me beginning with the usual "I was looking at [ ] when I noticed..."?



(Oh, man. The formatting on this post is *all over the place.* I would probably send myself an email.)

all the/small things

I've just placed an incredibly detailed temporary tattoo of a catfish on my left foot.

- Man! I found some weird things while cleaning out Missouri boxes from my younger years.

- This is not the first time I've pulled from my temporary tattoo collection (or applied a weird color of nail polish or dragged out kiddie-ish jewelry or ...). Sometimes you feel a difficult time coming along, and want to try to get ahead of it psychologically. In my case, that equals sparkles and colors (and, yes, catfish) or anything else that can bring me joy when it pops into my head in the middle of a moment of stress.

So. Catfish on foot. When I flex my toes, it sorta looks like it's swimming - and I'll ride on that joy all first rehearsal.

Future self, just look at the post date on this and you'll remember.

Y'know, eating all that pizza *did* help my mood!

(Oh. Hey there, blog.)

I just finished re-watching the first season of Gilmore Girls, and my mind's a little blown that I watched the original run at Rory's age ... and now I'm Lorelei's age.

OH MY GOODNESS. I want to chew off all my fingernails so much, except I've managed to keep them intact for over a month and also I'm thirty-two, so maybe this shouldn't be so hard.

I'm working on a thing ... clearly.

"The timing will never be perfect."

Actually, that's all I want to say.

On discount, of course. I'm from the Midwest.

I had a rough, exhausting weekend ... so I bought a season of Doctor Who. That's what adults do with their money, right?

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.

first day of the season

I've been home from work for multiple hours, and yet I'm still in the dress I wore to look nice for intern orientations.

Is it some sort of maturity I've reached at this point in my life, where I didn't feel the need to immediately change into pajamas upon closing my front door for the last time today?



'Course not. For once I tied a non-wonky bow with the sash, and I don't want to undo solid work.

"We got her hitched, and it didn't rain"

I was only actively involved in one of the two.

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.)

(Wow, I was grumpy last night.)

(Um, happy tenth to my years at ADP)

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.

ten.

Oh man, twenty-two year old Hannah had no idea how much life - good, bad, bizarre, heart-breaking, breath-taking - was ahead of her.


[I may edit this post later to expand up on this idea - or may not. I don't know that I need to expand upon that thesis statement.]

tin for ten

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?)

This picture may not look like much, but just saying the sentence "this is my office in the new building" aloud made me cry three times on Thursday.

And now I will have a post for July.

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.

One girl turns around, notices me.

"WHOA!"

Nudges her friends.

"She's so pretty! She looks like *Batman*!"

Leatherman pliers, carabiner, time

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.

(Also: "Why are you telling me?")

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.

No, seriously. Why is it April?

JANUARY: Endless cough, made so much more endless by my refusal to take a single full day off from work because my job (and my brain) are not conducive to delegation; Sundance

FEBRUARY: Peter Pan. Egads, Peter Pan; Snow Queen tech that was supposed to be me just hanging out in the booth and became me fixing the majority of the projections

MARCH: Egads Peter Pan finishes; sleep; endless watching of Amazon Prime while on a free trial; Apostle tech and live-editing script; Hero Squad prep

APRIL: Hero Squad rehearsals; LION sound tech; Snow Queen at Miller; not enough sleep

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......

RRRRRWHHOOOOOOSSSSSSSSHH

Things I will miss about this building:
* ladder to the booth

* the blue walls of the S Office

* farce door!

* proximity to Whole Foods and their dark chocolate milk


Things I will not miss about this building:
* Having the outdoor waterspout directly on the other side of my office wall.

Hey, look! It's March now!

Best late night meal, bar none, is cold fried chicken.

Best breakfast is a toss up between cold pizza and (even better but it's never in my fridge) cold Chinese.

Best dinner is breakfast food - pancakes, or eggs and bacon.

I have no preference over best lunch. Probably whatever occurs without people interrupting me to do paperwork or answer silly questions.

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.

Now 3-5inches, within the five day window...

Dear self,

Where on earth did we put the one cent stamps? I don't want to use two postcard stamps on each card just because postage went up since we went to NYC.

Hurry,
Hannah

It's the on the ten day forecast, but still...

So, is it weird to be excited about the possibility of snowfall while I'm in Utah? Even when I already know I'll be standing in wait-list lines?

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.

Ahem.


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.]

"not on the wrong side of mortally wounded"

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.

Several days late shoutout to my brother for agreeing to share an order of onion rings, and then letting me eat every single one of them.

It's been a nice extended weekend. Perhaps not as cultured as other trips, but lots of movies and Rifftrax and Parks & Rec and food.

[sorta] first day of vacation

Sure, brain. Waking up at our usual time (after multiple days in a row of waking up *earlier*) is totally the same as sleeping in.

la-la-la

I'll be at a theater in about eight hours, but instead of sleeping I'm sitting here tearing up over the end of the MST3K Kickstarter telethon because I make solid adult choices.

Other stuff too, but this is the main one

Things I Feel Zero Guilt About:
* Going to the complex's Christmas party, exchanging three sentences with the only person I knew in the room, filling a full plate with food, and bringing the whole pile (including drink and bag of chips) back to my apartment.

If you think me having Doctor Who and zombie pet figurines is a strange combination, don't bother asking what else is on the same shelf.

Just looked up while pondering word choice and noticed that at some point recently my tiny 11th Doctor got knocked over and is being pecked at by the zombie bird, while the zombie dog is currently mid-starring contest with River Song. Not sure if it's through everything on my desk shuffling or actual malicious design, but jeepers! What happened around here during tech?

How lucky we are to be alive right now, when we can look up who that actor in that one thing was instead of letting it bounce in my brain for the rest of forever.

Seriously, my brain never would've connected that the actor I recognized in a current Oscar prestige film also played the whiny son on Smash.


I improvised a recipe tonight, as a major component of the recipe I wanted to try had gone off between the time when I assembled everything until I reached today. (And, honestly, in about the two years before that, judging by the state of it and its expiration date that I hadn't checked before today.) But crescent roll pizza bites were good. Perhaps some smaller pieces of Canadian bacon next time, though.

"Reason 3: Writing a Paper That is Due Tomorrow" no longer applies

(Unless you count SM paperwork, in which case .... yeah. Sometimes.)

I'm in my thirties now, which means there are only two reasons why I'd be still awake after 2:30am: I'm off from work the next day and lost track of time while putzing around OR my brain won't shut off, why won't it shut off, oh please can I fall asleep now?

Fortunately, I'm the happier of those two options this time. Though I am *super awake* right now, so it might swap over to the other here shortly. Time to pick a movie on the DVR to fall asleep to (seeing as I'm still trying to track down opportunities to re-record all the things I used to fall asleep to, back before the receiver gave up on life).

It is so cold in my apartment right now, I'm wearing a sweater over my PJs and contemplating what I can put in my oven so it can be a temporary heat source.

Ah, the joys of the complex choosing when to turn on the heat, rather than the individual.


For the first time in about two weeks, I have over 24 hours before I have to be back at the theater [don't think about that too hard, Smith]. Things to do in the meantime:

* continue to text with a McMorrough about this week's Doctor Who episode (because !!!)
* play far too many hours of Kings Quest
* put out Christmas decorations
* clean or something?

Here's a thought about eight years late: why is my side picture *not* feet seeing as that's totally my thing?

Now that I'm out of tech weekend, when [if things onstage are strained] all seems dark and awful and out to get me, let's note a few things that bring me joy:

* having access to the library system of the fourth largest city in the country
* gaining some evenings back again, just in time for prestige movie season
* all those groups I've joined that offer the possibility of free screening tickets
* people on the internet who post full video from four year old Austin City Limits concerts that had been a favorite repeat on my [now deceased] cable receiver
* writing listicals

Good job, self! We're not doing any of the "six things not to do with your dishwasher"!

Those quickie click-bait lists get me all the time on Real Simple's twitter.

Other things I can't help but click:
- Katie Cook's Harry Potter sketches
- updates from the International Space Station
- anything related to Gilmore Girls


My brain just reminded me that I picked up ice cream while grocery shopping today. I'm gonna pull out the cookies and cream *and* ice my knee with the same bowl. Multi-purpose!

11:11 on 11/11

...And here the storm hits, making me glad I didn't stop at the grocery store on the way home. (Except that I'm out of good post-rehearsal-it's-late-but-I-gotta-eat-something food. And vitamin C drops.)

I heard that the books were leaving Thursday, which kicked me into overdrive. In my brain, that caused a combination of both organizing all the stacks (now you can see all the spines! all the encyclopedia and tax law sets are together!) and jumping my pulled total up to fifty-six. But who else is gonna want that Versailles visitor's guidebook? Or all the Crichton novels? Or the poor old atlas that is split at the seams and thus begging to be used for some sort of decoupage?

When I die, just bury me under all the books I own, as that will be mausoleum enough to hold me.

In other news, I injured myself on the set so now we know the show's gonna be really good!

[My knee is mostly fine.]

Oh heaven help me, but we have piles and piles of books free for the taking in the lobby (the leftovers of the 1619* all over the Freud set), and I've hardly looked through them, and yet -- Smith curse! -- I already have seventeen in a pile to take home. Does it help that some will turn into presents or craft projects or such?**






* Yes, I counted. Have you met me? Weirdly, it took approximately the same amount of time as it does to run the show.

** No.

run for designers night

Nobody died! Nobody was murdered! (Yes, those are two vastly different things. Hoo doggies, at the end of this week, those are vastly differing items.)


[This post could've also been called "It's 11:11 pm and I'm eating cheese crackers, obviously."]

Oh my gosh, I'm so sleepy. So much for baking chicken after rehearsal.

Hey self, remember when we'd stay up all night, writing papers (that received good grades!) and eating Tootsie Rolls, and feel perfectly fine the next day. Twenty-year-olds have no inkling of the golden juices flowing through their quick metabolizing, fast recovering veins.

I'm gonna eat queso before every rehearsal!

(No, I'm not. I'm currently out. Perhaps this is the true cause of all my current ills.)

I forgot where I was going with this because I instead went down an unexpected Sam Rockwell rabbit hole on YouTube. Y'know, as you do on Monday nights when you were actually planning on doing something else legitimately useful. Maybe I never had anything else. I should stop waiting for the end of the day to decide I want to write something, especially if I'm not writing about anything in particular.

Between being in the bug suit and the top of the 12th inning, my neck is gonna be legit sore tomorrow.

Well, that was fun. Nice of the Royals to save the bulk of the action for when I was watching, even if I didn't come in until the 9th.

Needs more footage from KC itself, though. If you can't win it in the hometown, at least *show* the hometown, jeepers.

Gonna be some fun flights into MCI tomorrow. Might be some awkward subway rides tonight.

(Gotta publish this now if I'm gonna keep up the streak.)

There was no need to cook that entire box of pasta, self.

So much elbow macaroni. So, so much.


It feels strange to be home on Halloween - no rehearsal, no performance, no party. All the rain this morning certainly took the "let's do stuff!" out of me, so I'm not complaining. It's just been a long time. I haven't had any kiddos drop by, though perhaps they prefer the residential streets west of us over wandering the complex. Stay away kids, I have no candy to pass out. (Talk to me this time tomorrow, though...)

So, uh, Doctor Who, Royals, and pretending I'm not here if the children pop 'round? Sweet.

If TCM On Demand would work once more...

I don't know who in the programming department decided to follow-up "Freaks" with a Mickey Mouse cartoon, but, whoever you are, we should definitely hang out.


Things I Should Do Tomorrow:
* enjoy that I don't have to work
* clean my disaster of a kitchen
* put away laundry more than folding it and leaving it on a chair
* bake a casserole or two ahead of the full rehearsal week

Things I Will Actually Do Tomorrow
* probably just that first one

even in Australia

I don't have anything to post, but I've posted the last few days in a row and I don't feel like breaking the chain yet. (This sort of feeling will lose weight the further I get into rehearsal). That never stopped me in college, though, so here we are together.

Um, both my hair and nails are currently short. (As am I, for that matter, but that's not new.)

I mean, I sometimes *don't* want to deal, but that's not the point.

Things I am still working on: conveying that we may have an issue adding additional [scenery / props / costumes] without coming across like a grouchy child that doesn't want to deal.

In other news, I'm apparently drafting scene shift paperwork two weeks early, starting tomorrow. Oh boy!

pretend for a moment that you know how to 'adult'

I'm trying to play this game called "Work With Me Here" where both participants in a single email conversation chain answer all questions posed back and forth, with detail, rather than only answering one item with the barest of replies. (It's not even the least you can do - the least you could do would be to give a vague non-answer answer to all questions, not one sort of vague answer to one question.)

Why are you making emails feel like pulling teeth - especially as if I'm pulling my own, like I'm trying to extract information from a source that is actively fighting me the whole way.


[I am tired of adulting today. I'm going back to taping floors for rehearsal because the floor doesn't refuse to do its side of the process.]

How do you write that? / I pull out a keyboard and go to Word...

This is such a sarcastic group of people, so at least it's going to be a quotable time turning this one-act into a full-length.

I have no milk left, but it's twenty til eleven and nothing that will change tonight. Time to eat ice cream instead!