1. What is your current relationship status?
2. What is your current mood?
3. Who is your favorite band/singer?
4. What is your favorite movie?
5. What kind of pets do you have?
6. Where do you live?
7. Where do you work?
8. What do you drive?
9. What did you do on Saturday?
10. What will you do on Sunday?
11. What is your favorite network tv show?
12. Describe yourself?
13. What is your favorite candy?
14. Favorite sport?
(Taken from Bag Blog)
What is the first thing that comes to mind when you read each of these words and why?
1. ice
"Ice, ice, baby." Yeah, I know. Now it's going to be stuck in YOUR head all day, too. (You're welcome!)
2. primary
Colors. I still remember learning about them in elementary school.
3. dirty
South. I don't know why that was the first thing to come to mind. And it's pronounced drrrrrrty.
4. green
M&M's. Ha! ha ha ha...that's still funny. Even oh... 15ish years this side of middle school!
5. fly
Bar. It's the name of a bar in SF.
Generally, I am a "laid-back" kinda gal. Perhaps this is because my inner Drama Queen gets to flex her muscles on stage.
In my personal life, I don't like conflict; I enjoy working "behind-the-scenes" to help folks out; I tend to listen first than speak second (unless hardpressed or questioned specifically). All of these traits are parts of my personality.
Cue: this evening's rehearsal.
I have a really juicy part this summer. I'm playing in the Mikado, and my character - is...shall we say...whatever the exact opposite of a shrinking rose is. And she's mean as hell. My first entrance is the Act 1 finale - and BOY! It is with guns blazing, eyes of steel and fangs dripping with blood. It's great and awesome in power. I'm not used to it yet...her particular feeling of rage and red seeping into my vision.
It's just acting, right?
But after that scene - I am so keyed up it's hard to focus, to listen to other people, to quiet the load whooshing noises in my ears. And it takes a ton of energy to keep myself hyped up that much for the duration of the scene (it's about 20-30 minutes in length). Well, it's not anger the entire time. There is a brief suspension of the anger for a short section of complete heartbroken pain. That is a hard switch...and then she goes right back into wrath. I have to be in the right frame of mind - for all of these emotions, and keep them all somewhat real in order to sustain them. Fake emotions are hardly believable and impossible to sustain for any length of time if there is not something real up under them for support.
I started getting a glimpse of what this character will ultimately be (I've only been to a couple music rehearsals thus far) and it actually made me start laughing. It was a completely involuntary response to the rush of rage coursing through me/her and the images I had in mind of thoroughly eating the object of my wrath alive and with much relish (not unlike, say, a praying-mantis).
One of the biggest challenges in all of this is the fact that while all of this ire runs amok, I also have to sing. This is what makes our job as singing actors hard - and rewarding. I can't let the anger/sadness/joy/insert-emotion-here takeover my body and character 100%. There has to be some percentage...even if it's small...held back, so that the voice doesn't become slave to emotion. Think about this...when you are angry in real life, do you consciously think about the mechanics involved in shouting at someone? What about grieving? Do you try to time your sobs around your sentences, making sure to clearly enunciate your words whilst collapsing in a heap on the floor? No?
It's a balancing act...multitasking at its best - especially during the rehearsal period. It's so important to learn the music correctly - and be able to sing it legato, before adding in some of those extreme emotions...lest the voice gets overblown. But come performance time, THAT's when to let loose...and rely upon technique and training. You should be able to trust that your body knows how to react when say...you take the wrong breath or push your voice. My voice teacher has this saying that "Technique is everything you do to recover after taking a wrong breath". (Breathing is KEY for opera singing...!) There are no crutches. No tricks, no easy fixes, no patches, no valves or strings to tune.
It's you and two tiny little inch-long pieces of muscle which vibrate together to create sound. Other than that...you better be able to trust in your training, or you will psyche yourself out and crash and burn. Been there and done that. And it sucks.
So. I am looking forward to the challenge this summer. The gauntlet has been laid: time to face it - locked and loaded - with a glint in the eye, a curl of the lip, head down and hell-bent on leaving no witnesses . . .
It has not been until more recent years that I have realized I am prone to insomnia a night person. This only becomes a problem when I have to get up and work a “normal” day-job (which I do). My mom is the same way . . . the polar opposite of my father in that – and many – ways (thus perhaps lending some truth to the whole ‘opposites attract’ idea.)
While I was at home this weekend, my mom and I exploited our nocturnal tendencies and stayed up talking into the wee hours. I’m not sure how it started – but it ended up being very informative, and did not (as can happen) degrade into some sort of mother-daughter pick-on-each-other session. We talked a lot about family history and the like.
Here are some of the things I learned:
LIVE! blogging from DIA. I volunteered to give up my seat to take the later flight. Not a big deal for this trip, and now I have myself a free-ticket voucher good for use anytime in the next year. WOOT.
It's been a great trip back home . . . I feel - if not physically rested (I still stay up late here!) - rested in spirit. So, that's good. And now it's time to hit the ground running!
Will write more later, but for now, gotta go check on my flight.
It is beautiful here. It's been a wonderful trip thus far. Very relaxing, hanging with my folks and friends here.
Tonight, we went out with P's parents to celebrate dad's birthday. It's funny...my dad is pretty shy in a lot of ways...he and my mom have friends, of course (like everyone from church). But, I think P's dad is one of his close friends - they actually talk more than just "small talk" - which is good. I'm happy for him. I remember my dad's best friend from college, whom we all called "Uncle Jonathan." Sadly, Uncle J passed away at a young age - and I didn't realize it fully at the time (I was young) - but I know now that it profoundly affected my dad. Later on in life, my dad became very close friends with one of his coworkers. And my mom was very close with his wife. And then they ended up moving away about 10 years ago - and that too was hard on my dad.
So...I'm glad he has another good friend. Makes me happy :)
Oh...and dinner tonight was awesome. I had turtle soup (a very New Orleans dish) and steak. MMMMmmm.
. . . and the man in question is short, bald, is a real boob man and loves to drool. To call me a cradle robber would be an understatement!!
I had the GREAT pleasure of spending today with my friend Katie and her son, Clark. Katie and I have been friends...well...ever since I can remember. Our parents were friends pre-k (pre-kids), so it's been a long time.
Clark's daddy flies F-16's and currently he and his family live very far away...so this was my first chance to get to meet him in person! I took a bunch of photos - but unfortunely will have to wait until I get back to SF in order to post one.
He is the cutest. Boy. Ever. And I'm not just saying that because his momma and I have been friends for so long. Truly, he is a beautiful baby. He's 5 and a half months old, and is just the happiest, smiliest bundle around. I got to play with him a lot today and get to know this little guy. It's amazing, actually, to look up on my wall at home and see a pic of me and K in matching pj's circa kindergarten...and then spend all day today holding her SON. wow.
Anyway...I'm absolutely smitten and am so proud to be "Auntie" to this little tyke.
And pretty soon, baby Clark is going to be joined by ANOTHER little honoray nephew...Katie's and my dear friend Jen is expecting baby Carter later this summer. Carter, whose daddy flies F-22's and also lives far away, will be giving Clark-o a run for his money in terms of cuteness, especially if he follows anything at all in the footsteps of his older sister, Addie!! Can't wait to meet him!
I am so blessed to have these "nephews" and "niece" in my life. My cup overfloweth, indeed. LOVE YOU ALL!!!!!! (And miss you guys, too!!)
Here's today's fiver from the LJ Friday Five Page.
1. What were some of the smells and tastes of your childhood?
Smells: My Grandmother’s perfume; grits cooking; summertime in the Rockies – the air just smells different up there.
Tastes: Orange muffins made by my great-grandmother; coke floats; southern fried chicken; microwave instant breakfasts; milk and sugar with coffee in it.
2. What did you have as a child that you do not think children today have?
I had discipline in the form of spanking! How many parents still do that? (It worked for my brother and I, and we turned out pretty well, hahaha) Also: longer attention spans and the ability to be…happy/content without high-tech gadgets. Case in point - the other day I saw my friend’s two-year old niece watching cartoons on her father’s iPhone. It completely blew my mind.
3. What elementary grade was your favorite?
Hmmm…I remember a lot about 4th grade. I had to memorize times tables, I got to read as much as I wanted and at my own pace, and I also spent a lot of time writing. My chef d’oeuvre was something like a 30-page murder-mystery. And then in 5th grade, my Language Arts teacher was horrible and told me I was a crap writer and I hated writing from that point on until I got to college. My mom is STILL mad at that teacher!
4. What summer do you remember the best as a child?
I don’t have just one *favorite*. I always loved the summertime! To my recollection, all of my childhood summers were filled with swim team, tennis lessons, spending a ton of time up in the mountains, visiting all our extended family in Louisiana, and my brother chasing me around the backyard with fresh earthworms my mom would dig up whilst gardening. A year-specific memory was my 8th birthday party. It was a swim party and one of my friends from school – a boy – gave me a necklace. It was a row of 8 little silver hearts on a red, satin cord (clearly picked out by his mother). I loved it and wore it a lot…and I think I still have that somewhere back at my folks’ house.
5. What one piece of advice would you give to your younger self, and at what age?
I took ballet lessons from about the age of 4 through 10. And then I quit. I only have vague memories (maybe I blocked them?) about the whole thing, but my quitting had something to do with my teacher being mean to me, and the fact that my arch-less feet got too big too quickly (ha!) to safely learn the next level of ballet (en pointe). So I just stopped dancing all together. I would go back and tell myself to not give up and to change teachers or learn other types of dancing, because it was something I loved and at which I excelled. I still love dancing of all kinds!
I would also tell myself – at all ages through high school – to do the music theory homework my piano teacher gave me. Boy, would THAT have saved me a lot of time/effort in college!
SO I have a lot of things I want to blog about for real - as opposed to these little cop-out shorty posts this week - but I haven't yet had enough time to commit anything to "paper," as it were. However, I'm hoping that this weekend I'll have a little more time to flesh those things out (since I'm going home to CO and everyone there goes to sleep early, leaving me awake and alone with time to kill!)
Just to whet your whistle:
- A little more on my theatrical/musical life [since Ms. BagWag asked so nicely :)]
- Changes happening here at our humble little abode
- All about meeting and falling in love with the Cutest. Boy. Ever.
(It's not what you're thinking...!)
Oh and I'm updating my profile page...w00t...and adding an email address. So feel free to drop me a line!
This news has been floating around the blogosphere and the MSM for a while now…but it is still shocking to me.
I mean…damn…it’s one thing to work at, say, an office and feel underappreciated, or not compensated for your time, efforts, whatever.
BUT let’s say your job entails putting yourself in physical danger everyday, voluntarily going where so many people will not go, and being away from your family/friends/life for more than a year at a time...and THEN you find out you might not have a paycheck after June 15th . . . ???!!!
WTF, Congress?! Can’t make up your mind?
Got spring fever and can’t wait for that Memorial Day BBQ you have planned?
Finished up one show on Sunday . . . and started rehearsal toinght for the next one.
We were already giggling our way through it...it's gonna be a fun summer.
In other news...looking forward to this long weekend. I'm headed home for a few days to chill and celebrate dad's birthday. Even though my folks were just out here, most of my time was spent at the theater, so it will be nice to relax at home.
woot.
Mr. Postman brought me good stuff in the mail today. Oh yeah:
1. My tax stimulus check. Woot. Does it defeat the purpose if I put it towards something like...my Roth IRA? hahahhaHAHAHAHAH. Maybe. But I don't care!
2. The Babylon Blog by Glen Morris. Shout out to Lea Ann for the info. Glen's a friend of a good friend of mine in SF. We went to the same church for a while here, but at the time I only knew who he was, and didn't actually know him. (At that time, I couldn't have told you the first thing about anything taking place in Iraq or Afghanistan, either. My world was reduced to one building taking up 2 city blocks and overflowing with music students. There really was very little happening in my world outside of those four walls for like, three years.) ALL that to say. Glen turned his milblog into a book, and these are his experiences in Haditha as a Colonel with the Marine Corps Reserve. Semper Fi, Glen...I look foward to reading your account . . .
3. The latest Rolling Stone magazine. I think it's my last one, as I didn't renew my subscription. Looks like I will have to rely on Sibling from now on to clue me in to the hot new bands. He usually knows before anyone else, anyway. lol.
Finally, we opened our show in SF this weekend...and it was wonderful. This is the company's 'hometown' so to speak, and I think most of us had a great deal of friends and family in the audience. My folks and Aunt are in town, and I had a great time seeing a bunch of friends out there, too.
Today (Sunday) will be our last performance. The ending of a show is always bittersweet: I'm always glad to have another role under my belt and over, but sad that another chapter has come to an end. By nature, this production has fostered a wonderful sense of community. Since we are a small cast, we've been able - for the most part - to get to know one another quite well. I will miss our time together...but look foward to the next adventure (for which rehearsals start Monday!) knowing that some of these same folks will also be involved in the same summer production as I. Yipee!!
So. Lots of warm fuzzies all around.
But here is something I don't understand. After we all get changed and ready to leave the theater, there is one group of folks who have decided to go out for drinks. Because my folks are in town, I decline the outing, knowing full well that the cast will be going out Sunday night for a party...and I'll join in the fun then. (Besides, I have to take care of "la voce" for the Sunday matinee.) After the wonderful wig/make-up lady helps me out of my wig, I approach a cluster of seven or so guys. It's about 11:30pm, and they are discussing where to go imbibe. And here are our conversations:
Me: "Hey, [male friend #1] would you mind walking me to xyz parking garage. I really don't feel like walking by myself through the dark park to get there. I'll drop you off wherever you need to go."
Male Friend #1(MF1): "Oh yeah, hey. Ask [male friend #2] where his car is - I'm riding with him.
Me: "Okay. Hey...MF2, are you by chance headed towards xyz garage? Can I solicit you guys for a walk to my car?"
MF2: "Uh...actually...I'm walking in the exact opposite direction."
Me: "Oh. Okay. Hey, MF3 - can you walk me to my car?"
MF3: "Oh...well don't you want to come for a drink? We're headed to xyz bar."
Me: "No...I gotta get home and see my family tonight. But I can drop you off."
MF3: "I don't know. I think we're headed out now."
....ack. What's a gal gotta do to get some gentlemanly help around here? Seriously BOYS, work with me here! I returned to the women's dressing room to collect my stuff and notice R is still around. We decide that the two of us will walk to her car together, and then she will drop me off at MY car. We end up walking out with the group headed to the bar, and just as they are going into the bar, one MAN finally turns to us and asks "Oh...do you ladies need someone to walk with you?"
As we were practically at R's car already, it was a moot point. But I'm glad someone offered.
Let this be a public service announcement: guys...do NOT let a woman even THINK about walking by herself. At night. Through a dark park. Downtown. To a parking garage.
I don't care if this IS San Francisco and women are supposedly...fiercely independent and grrrl power and all. Whatev. You will not offend the woman.
(Or at least not THIS woman.)
"Well guess what *I* just got? A workout tape. Richard Simmons: Sweatin' to the Oldies!"
"I remember when you used to smoke. For like a week."
"They were menthols...oooh ya'll they were NASty."
"I smoked a cigar once. And didn't know you weren't supposed to inhale. I was very sick."
"That guy's hairdo is . . . strange . . . he needs to lose it."
"Ooh. Ya'll. Let's figure out where we goin' to eat all weekend. And when we can go get us some chocolate!
Name five places that fall into the following categories:
1) Favorite Destination -- someplace you've visited once or often and would gladly go again:
Grand Lake, Colorado and Nice, France (sorry – I couldn’t choose just one!!)
2) Unfavorite Destination -- someplace you wish you had never been (and why):
Birmingham, Alabama. Hot, humid and dirty. I spent a week there and it was horrid.
3) Fantasy Destination -- someplace to visit if cost and/or time did not matter:
Mark Twain’s house – when he was still alive. We are relatives through my great-grandmother!
4) Fictional Destination -- someplace from a book or movie or other art or media form you would love to visit, although it exists only in imagination:
The forest moon of Endor!! Or the cantina on Mos Eisley!!
5) Funny Destination -- the funniest place name you've ever visited or want to visit:
In high school, we had three French exchange students stay with us for a short time. (My mom tried to serve them grits – but that’s another story).
Anyway, they invited me to visit them if I ever made it to their part of France (Brittany). And the name of their home town? Brest.
Wyld tagged me with this today...it's a story meme, with different folks adding the next phase to the story.
So here it goes:
- - - - - - - - - -
(Splotchy): I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.
(FranIam): Despite the throbbing pain in my knees and the dull ache in my lower back, I bent down slowly and picked up the envelope...
Oh no. It did not say this, did it?
Oh yes, it did. It did.
The handwriting was familiar in a way that inspired a cold sweat and a bout of nausea. It was the penmanship of my former husband. You know - the one that was presumed dead.
He disappeared in a suspicious blogging related accident a number of years ago and was never heard from again. I was devastated. I had hated the blog, loathed the thing. What began as a hobby that took but a few minutes a day had morphed into an addiction, the proportions of which could not be measured. It was pure evil.
The blog turned into a cruel and demanding mistress and her siren song was more than I could compete with. One day he left for an evening event, never to return again.
All fingers pointed to one blogger, but I could never get the charges to stick. That one is slick- slick, slick, slick. He can talk a good game and write like nobody's business. But there is something about him, it just is not right.
So my husband was gone, that other one kept blogging and I had to rebuild my life, which I did.
So I finally had the bastard declared dead.
And now this.
(Wyldth1ng): Suddenly the phone rang, and I felt like I was ten inches tall and eerie music was playing in the background.
I went to pick up the phone and the music stopped.
"Hello?"
Dial tone, no one was there. I glanced back to the door, and there he was. He rushed me and rose his hand and...
Suddenly the phone rang and I just had that "black cat, Friday the 13th" kind of feeling.
I looked out into the world. No one, no one was about. I closed and locked the door and went to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
Dial tone, no one was there. I glanced back at the door and it was locked.
I directed my attention to the envelope; abruptly, I heard a knock at the door.
(MezzoSF): Or what I *thought* was a knock at the door. But somewhere back in the reaches of my brain, I realized something was . . . amiss.
All at once the world snapped back into focus – colors, noises, sounds, images - coming together into a sensory overload.
The knocking grew louder and louder…and as I got my bearings, I realized that it was the clanging of a heavy steel padlock against the doors of a barren van. Well, barren except for me, a semi-dried pool of blood, and the as yet unopened envelope that started this whole thing. Based on the road noise, we seemed to be on a highway - the kaCHUNK kaCHUNK kaCHUNK of the seams in the road kept lopsided time with the knocking of the padlock.
Wincing with pain against an unknown violation throbbing at the back of my skull, I struggled to keep my brain focused…eventually realizing that after that first phone ring, the man rushed up behind me and must have given me a good, old-fashioned pistol-whipping. Unbeknownst to me, my subconscious had been reliving that moment over and over again – attempting to wake me up through a jolt of fear. And when it finally did . . . well . . . here I am.
I tried in vain to recall the man’s features…labored to see through the adrenaline and pain and relive my last-remembered 10 seconds of consciousness . . . but the fog remained.
Struggling against the duct tape around my wrists, I reached for the envelope, hoping that its contents would provide me with a clue as to the situation at hand…
- - - - - - - - - - -
I'm tagging the following folks to take up some more of the story - and don't tell me you guys don't like to write...!
La Vie en Route
The Sour and the Sweet
Grace Shattered
Things People Say That Please Me
The Opera Singer
Perhaps Al Gore is on to something. I saw his movie and yeah, it was scary. But I haven't thought about it for a while. (Does that make me a bad Californian?)
It's supposed to be 90+ degrees here today. In san francisco. NOT in the East Bay, South Bay or Marin...in those places it's supposed to be cresting the 100s, i believe.
We sometimes get weather like this in ... Sseptember or October (our real summerime) but mid-May? ack. People are going to start melting on the street. Nobody here is used to it. I might remark upon the temp, but I'm going to do my best not to complain...because I just looked at the forecast for our friends over in the 'sandbox' and weather.com was broadcasting nothing but a BOB in the sky and several successive days of triple digits.
Maybe I'll just keep a tally of how many people I hear say "it's hot" throughout the day.
The fog will come rolling back with reinforcements shortly.
**11:00 AM PST UPDATE** I'm not the only one blogging about the weather here today. Rona's got a good description of San Francisco's Annual Menopause.
I really enjoy the comic strip Pearls Before Swine, written and drawn by Stephan Pastis. More often than not, it makes me laugh out loud with a bad pun or satirical jab.
Today was no exception:
After spending a majority of my weekend ensconced in my performing life, surrounded solely by others of the same bent, it was a little hard to make that snap back to Monday morning day-job reality. These sets of colleagues and “work-sites” tend to define things . . . differently . . . from one another.
Shooting the Breeze
Singers: an in-depth discussion about which sinus rinse methods work the best
Salaried minions: an in-depth discussion of last night’s episode of L O S T
Taboo topics
Singers: nothing is sacred
Salaried minions: bodily functions, romantic escapades and why you were late to work this morning are all off-limits
Meal times
Singers: 11am; 6pm and 11:30pm
Salaried minions: 8am; 12:00pm and 6pm
Work Space
Singers: cramped backstage dressing rooms contrasting with sets on stage under bright lights
Salaried minions: cramped cubicles contrasting with the corner office with a view
Business Travel
Singers: pay their expenses (motel, food, gas, tolls) out-of-pocket
Salaried minions: get reimbursed for five-star hotels, dinners, plane tickets and taxis
Sick Days
Singers: are the worst possible scenario
Salaried minions: mean paid time off!
Dress Code
Singers: anything goes – both on and off-stage
Salaried minions: business casual (jeans “okay”)
Neuroses
Singers: not eating dairy, spicy food, garlic, or too much caffeine before a show; hand-washing; throat care; proper breathing technique and the money notes
Salaried minions: keeping the coffee pot filled; updating The Calendar; not using a large post-it note where a small one would have sufficed; mandatory fun
Crisis Management
Singers: ad-lib, add more make-up, stall for time, whatever it takes with what you’ve got at your disposal
Salaried minions: whatever it takes with what you’ve got at your disposal; knowing how to reach someone via cell phone, email, ‘crack’berry or semaphore
Vocabulary
Singers: up-stage, down-stage, wings, proscenium, flies, and a tempo at the da capo with a short ritardando before the penultimate beat of the measure
Salaried minions: fiscal year, investment managers, roundtable, capital calls
...the whole "twittering" concept.
I am going to have to pass on that one - seems too tech-dependent for me.
I mean...I own a RECORD player, people. And I still use my VCR. Regularly.
Kids today . . . ;)
Earlier this week, I skimmed through my posts looking for something I had written last year. I found this forgotten draft - which is not what I was looking for - but which is very funny.
So...welcome to another edition of Overheard: Backstage. Some of these are from a show I did last year at this time, and some are updated from more recent memory. Enjoy!
-------
"Yes, I eat toothpaste to warm up. But only a little bit, and only a specific German brand."
"Look - it's the Barbie brigade."
"EEEEEK!!!!" [4th grader to me upon seeing my 'scary' age makeup]
"If we were in Europe right now, we'd all be naked."
"What do you mean the orchestra left already? We've not done the last scene yet!"
"What were we going to look-up on youtube later - was it the Bug Porn?"
"This weekend's Motel 6 was waaay better than that last motel."
"Ladies - did you all remember to highlight your cleavage?"
Q: "Everybody decent in there?"
A:"Well...we're all clothed - but that doesn't really answer your question now, does it?"
"Now *that* was classy. With a capital Ass."
"The thing I love to do the most on stage is to sing a high-note. It's as good - if not better - than sex."
"Do you know how to juggle? How about learning so we can incorporate that into your trio?"
The phrases "That's what *she* said," and "Yo' momma" are casually and frequently bandied about backstage. As are various and sundry phrases capable of making a sailor blush.
The real choice expletives are reserved howver - at least in the women's dressing room - for use during the following activities: the application of false eyelashes; lining one's eyes with eyeliner; pincurling one's hair; attempting to buckle one's shoes AFTER one's corset is laced; and realizing one's tights are two sizes too short.
Rona recently discovered XKCD - A webcomic of Romance, Sarcasm, Math and Language, and wrote about it on her blog.
And HOLY crap there is some funny stuff on there....and after scrolling through a few, I realized that I had myself stumbled upon one of XKCD's comics back in September, but didn't know where it came from. I am glad to know the source! So - below is a preview just to whet your whistles...but go check them out for yourselves:
*headsmack*
I believe in freedom of speech, the right to protest, and the right to counter-protest. It’s part of what makes America…America.
As a Christian, I even believe that there are good and evil powers in the world - spiritual warfare if you want to call it that.
But what I cannot believe is THIS, the latest call to action by Code Pink in their protests of the USMC recruiting station in Berkeley.
It is laughable. Witchcraft vs. the Marines? My money is STILL on the USMC.
“NArmy” milblogger Lt. Nixon has a great idea for a counter-protest that I would pay good money to see.
And by good money, I mean $4.22/gal for gas and a $3 bridge toll.
I’m going to keep an eye out for local media photos of this and hopefully post some links up later.
Have you or anyone you know:
1. ...ever experienced a prophesy (vision or dream) that came true?
Not myself...possibly someone I know has - but I'm not sure.
2. ...dreamed of a stranger, then actually met them later?
Does deja vu count? If so, then yes...I think :)
3. ...seen a wonder in heaven? (including UFO's)
Only shooting stars and magnificent sunsets.
4. ...seen a "sign" on the earth?
I've never seen crop circles, if that's the question.
5. ...experienced knowledge of another language without ever having studied it?
I have experienced someone close to me speaking in tongues. And to be quite honest, it scared the bejeezus out of me.
Back at my first full day of work this week after being sick, I found it hard to concentrate. Sure, I was tired. Sure, I was digging through stacks of papers. But that wasn't it. It was the constant buzzing of orange Coast Guard helicopters flying by our windows. Okay - it wasn't as loud as the Blue Angels buzzing around overhead, but nevertheless, my coworkers and I talked about it...like..."Wow, wonder what's going on? The USCG is out in force today!"
Fast foward to a few minutes ago as I'm watching the evening news. As it happens, there is a dead baby whale washed up under a pier not that far from us. And, because of certain restrictions, the Coast Guard is not allowed to just go up under there and pull it out. Not sure what all those restrictions are...but, I guess we'll hear more about it tomorrow.
If my father had a top 5 list of what makes him happy in this world (other – than, of course, his perfect kids…hahah) this is what it would look like:
1. Traveling. Anytime, anywhere (I definitely got that gene….)
2. Delta Airlines and their history
3. Dark chocolate (Moonstruck, Ghirardelli, and Maison du Chocolat)
4. Grand Lake, CO (me too)
5. Tina Turner
So…I get a phone call at work today from my father who is VERY excited about something. As it happens, it’s #5 on that list. Seems Tina is coming out of retirement for one last tour, which he read about in the paper last week. And which Tina announced (along with Cher) on the Oprah show today. (No – my parents don’t watch the Oprah show…but TINA was on today, so they watched).
Anyways…I get a call with a directive to please look up the website and see the tour schedule. I did and – unfortunately – Tina is not going to be playing in Colorado near my parents. However….she IS playing both San Jose and Sacramento. One quick phone call back to dad and we now have tickets to the San Jose show in October. I’ve seen Tina with the fam once before. I believe mom & dad have seen her three times total (once in the mid-60’s when it was Ike & Tina). And there is a strong possibility of going to the Sacramento show, too, if dad can get the whole week off of work.
So we’ll be rollin’ on down the highway all over the bay following Tina’s tour. Just like Grateful Deadheads. Only….less hippy and more….middle-aged parents with their 20-something kids. And I am TOTALLY looking forward to it!
Because I just want to sleep today, here's a picture:
This is where I was at this time last year...Saint-Raphael, France. Right on the Cote d'Azur, in between Nice and St. Tropez.
Ahhhhh....ca me manque beaucoup! J'y reviendrai un jour...peut-etre l'annee prochaine, ou peut-etre pour "le retrait" en...quarante ans...hahahah. On ne sait jamais qu'est ce qui se passerait dans la vie....
The current state of our living room:
I don't have any good stories today...as I've spent most of the last 2 days in bed. Which in and of itself is nice, to a degree. I've felt bad enough that I'm not yet stir-crazy.
I've not even watched any tv. I don't have one in my room, and our common area....is otherwise occupied at the moment. S has alllll of her stuff from the storage unit parked in our main living area. I mean...we've left a path to the doors, in case of emergency. But other than that . . . yeah. Maybe I'll take a picture tomorrow.
(I've been assured - repeatedly - both by S and Sibling, that her stuff will all be gone by this weekend, when the storage 'pod' they've rented comes and she can load up her stuff for the move to Philly. Here's hoping...)
Anyways. This is a week of medical appointments for me. ENT today, eye doc wed and regular doc on thursday. I'm thankful for health insurance...that's for sure! Even though it takes FOREVER sometimes to get an appointment....or heck, even to get anyone to answer their damn phones. I hate that. Half the time, I end up getting so sick or worked up about something that I end up at the walk-in ambulatory care center up the hill from me. Shoot - they have great docs there and they accept my insurance . . . but . . . we don't have a "history together" like with a regular doc. So. That's a trade off, I guess.
...for the combination of adrenaline, afrin and good technique which helped me make it through the performance last night. Seriously, it was but for the Grace of God that my fevered self did not pass out onstage, mid-scene.
So...thank you Jesus! (And thanks for all ya'll who sent prayers my direction! I am still sick, but have a week to recover before the next show . . . so here's hoping that whatever this is will go away quickly!)
I know that as a Christian, I am supposed to claim I rely on God all the time. In good and bad scenarios...etc etc. Well, sometimes it's so easy during the "good" times to forget to do so. At least it is for me. I try, but ... well, I'm human.
On the other hand . . . during times where everything is crappy. Well then it seems much easier to cry out one of those 'oh Lord...You'll get me thru this because you are God' prayers. right?
Well....that is me today. I am physically unwell . . . not sure what is going on, but I've been bowled over by something. You name it. Sinuses, head, stomach and anxiety levels are all *very* unhappy with me. And guess what? Today I get to drive 2 hours one way to the outer reaches of the East Bay for a performance. I AM praising the Lord, however, that my throat does not hurt. So YAY - that means I can still sing in theory. hahhah
Maybe it's just His way of keeping me humble. And if so, than it sure is working.
(side note: Ladies and Gentelmen: please do NOT go to work sick! I had three colleagues come to work with bad colds this week. And really? That is not good coworkershipness. Especially when you work in a small office. Argh.)
From RevGals Friday Five:
Prayer is a joy to some of us, and a chore to others, waiting likewise can be filled with anticipation or anxiety....So how do you wait and pray?
1. How do you pray best, alone or with others?
Either. However . . . it is “easier” for me to pray with others, just by virtue of the fact that there are other people there to help keep my mind from wandering off on some tangent. But…looking at Jesus’ life…He always found a place to retreat and pray by himself, away from other people – which takes a lot of discipline. And if He had to communicate one-on-one with God…well, Lord knows how much more I have to, then. I’m working on being more disciplined in this area. Writing things down helps me keep focused.
2. Do you enjoy the discipline of waiting, is it a time of anticipation or anxiety?
ooh. Honestly? Most of the time, no. I don’t enjoy it. But I think that can stem from (up there in question #1) not spending enough time in prayer alone and listening.
3. Is there a time when you have waited upon God for a specific promise?
Yes.
4. Do you prefer stillness or action?
I tend to buck at the stillness. But eventually, I get tired and embrace it.
5. If (and this is slightly tongue in cheek) you were promised one gift spiritual or otherwise what would you choose to receive?
To be able to communicate to all people in their own language…
One reason I enjoy the blogworld?
Because after yesterday's wish for a bubblewrap suit . . . what should spring forth from the blogosphere?
This fantastic bubblewrap suit, courtesy of Wyld!
Thank you, Sir!
