The Unbraided

Film

2010-11-08T10:08:00.000-08:00

This weekend, I taught three yoga classes, and shot a short film on Long Island. It was a pretty nice weekend. But, now the weather is changing, and I'm cold. It's sleeting, and I'm finding myself missing my husband. I feel like I've been spending too much time on myself, and I'm missing out. So, here are a few photos from the shoot this weekend - and then, I'm cutting this short. Too much eye on myself makes me neglect the one I love most. I love you, K.

And Today, there was....

2010-11-05T21:24:00.000-07:00

challah bread pudding

pumpkin & black bean soup

newly-bought twinkle lights from a new favorite $.99 store

twinkle lights put up

my a cappella version of "Paper Bag"

garlic bread

ginger tea

wine shopping

wine drinking

FRIENDS

Beer Garden

a belated birthday

new blinds brought home

this podcast

Center of Hope

2010-11-04T20:45:00.000-07:00

Tonight I catered a dinner celebrating a new orphanage in Haiti. The Center of Hope - check them out, if you are passing by and looking for an excuse for your heart to grow two sizes, you can donate.

With all the trauma Haiti has gone through, there may be more headed their way....

Tonight, we had a high school gospel choir sing. It was - as you'd expect - moving to hear those sweet voices sing at this particular event.

On a side note, the Haitians I served were so much more polite than the people I'm used to serving (drunken spoiled brats???). They thanked me for everything I did, and even handed me their plates themselves to clear. I don't mean to judge an entire nation based on that - or claim to be more enlightened than you are - or belittle anyone.

They just made me feel good.

I want to be more like that.

Busy Bee

2010-11-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

Although I don't a have a job, I have several, too. And one of those jobs is searching for jobs. Got called in for an audition tomorrow morning, this evening. So, I can't really afford to blog at this moment, and it may be tricky over the next couple days. I will surely keep this up, even if it isn't *every day*.

Must prepare my sides and pick out an outfit and sleeeeeeeeep!

(which has not been easy lately).

Back to School

2010-11-01T21:58:00.000-07:00

Four years ago, I was taking some on-camera class and was struck by the talent of one of my classmates. He was damn good. He mentioned he was under the tutelage of a man named Wynn.

A year later, I was in a show with a woman - now a dear friend - who mentioned she'd also worked with this teacher, and that you needed a referral to join the class. I left it at that, and somewhat forgot about pursuing it any further, swallowed up by my midnight-8am job in midtown as a client services manager at a financial printing firm.

But while I was away from NYC the past two months -- doing a wonderful show that rhymes with "Duh Erty Ein Eps" --I also started something called "the Artist's Way". And one of the assignments in the book led me back to this man named Wynn.

It urged me to announce a goal - that year. It then urged me to identify the thing I could do that day to set me sailing towards that goal...

The thing I did was ask my dear friend for Wynn's number (it is --- hard to believe --- an unlisted number which no amount of googling can reveal).

I called that day and left a message.

A month later, after an audition, a callback....I'm enrolled in his class.

Tonight was my surprise first class -- a bit earlier than expected.

I'm to work on some monologues from "The Spoon River Anthologies" -- something we had bought for first year at the conservatory way back when but never got to it in our Meisner training.

"You are to work on characters. Because that is what is in your future. And you will work on the monologues and characters so that in the future, you can easily pick them up and be better than everyone else at them".

So, here I am.....

Back to school.

Oh, you don't know who Wynn is? Check THIS out.

St. Louis: Rest of Trip

2010-10-30T19:50:00.001-07:00

St. Louis Zoo.

Father-in-Law

The newlyweds (me and mine)

the newly-engaged!!!! My love's brother and his love!!!

Me petting tigers far-below.

Me and mom-in-law

Abby.

Sam. They pull at my heart strings (all of them).

Thank you for such a lovely visit!

Trip to St. Louis: My husband's birthday (Day One)

2010-10-27T20:11:00.000-07:00

A New Chapter

2010-10-26T19:11:00.001-07:00

My Dad took this picture last summer after I completed my teacher training. It looks as if I'm doing asana on the edge of the earth.

I've had some encouragement on the yoga front. In fact, "the yoga front" has always been encouraging. With minimal effort. But, then, maybe some of that is because I'm an actor and am used to a different kind of game.

At any rate, the yoga studio welcomed me back as a teacher. My old students were overjoyed to have me back. New students in the last two weeks have sung my praises to the manager, and wouldn't you know it? The studio wants me on as sort of their head teacher.

It is my intention to be a yogi for the rest of my life - to have it inform everything I do. I had it in the back of my mind that I would love for this to be my "day job" (though please know that I think of it as more than a job....it's my second career/passion). And with just the thought and the deed in place...something like this has rather fallen into my lap. This bit of news has encouraged me so much!

Things seem possible, now.

And.....thinking ahead.....wouldn't you love to be in a yoga studio that turned into a theatre at night.....and then back into a yoga studio?

I feel a little guilty writing about yoga as a job when I have so much to learn...and attaching money to the thing (I'm not making much yet, but some!) seems dishonest and selfish. But, this blog is about encouragement. It's about the manifestation of my dreams. I'll blog about my joy of teaching, the specifics of yoga, later on. I promise. Because there is much to say on the topic.

For now, I wish for all of you similar little signs from the universe that you are on the right track.

It does a heart good.

Namaste.

The weekend in pictures:

2010-10-25T21:32:00.001-07:00

The most amazing-looking carrots ever. They look like they were pulled out of a fairy-tale garden. Got these at The Union Square Market. Next time, I'm going for the rainbow-colored carrots. And have I mentioned the taste? They are, honest-to-god, the sweetest carrots I've ever tasted. That's also the best Gala apple I've ever had. Don't apples look so much better without that nasty wax all over 'em? Plain and rustic Gala apples, please...

This was yesterday at Fort Tryon Park, NYC. Beautiful area, that Washington Heights. If I had to leave Queens, I might move there. Overlooks the Hudson.

Friends!

I am ashamed to say it...but this is the first pumpkin I've ever designed and carved. I'm a little shocked, actually - coming from an artistic family and all. But, as you can see, it's my husband. It came out rad, no? Well, you should see it today. It's a Picasso. As the pumpkin has lost it's structure, the more of a Picasso it becomes! I will post photos. (K. helped me scoop out and yes, he also did a lot of the carving because I am a tired, old woman).

K.'s pumpkin is mighty cute.

My concept.

See you tomorrow!

Bodhisattva in Metro

2010-10-22T18:58:00.000-07:00

After yoga class today, this happened to me:

ook ack in nger

2010-10-21T21:37:00.000-07:00

So, one of my goals - having returned to the city after a "stint" - is to see more theatre. There are so many reasons to do that. I'm an actress, and I need to see what's current. I need to see people work their craft - I need to stay inspired. Watching a movie doesn't cut it. Seeing how actors plan and execute the arc of their character on a stage before you. Seeing how they deal with the little mishaps that pop up along the way. Seeing the moments that lack believability or pace or -- and this is a biggie -- the threadline of the piece. Making notes to self on how not to do that.

Another reason to see theatre is because I live in New York City, dammit. I am not not taking advantage of that any longer. I've decided to quit my whining and gather my rosebuds while I'm young. And by rosebuds I mean fun and exciting, inspirational events that only happen in major metropolitan areas, rather than ladies' vaginas. And by that I mean the rosebuds are the events rather than vaginas, not that I'm looking for events in metropolitan areas instead of vaginas. Which you may have thought. From the wording.

So, I took myself out on a date tonight to see a Showcase. An Off-Off Broadway play. These are the theatres where yours truly can potentially work. I got in free via my equity card. Settled down into a creaky chair and kept my coat and hat on during the first act since it was a very drafty little theatre. This play had me excited all week (I've obscured the title somewhat to keep people googling it). Dream parts since I'd played a scene from it in college. Have never seen it produced.

There were some big problems with the first scene. Alison was too combative. She's supposed to be a little numb to the abuse at this point. She proved herself to be a very good actress, though - a little misdirection at the top. The lead actor, who is also the artistic director, was oddly quirky and goofy - I never once feared for Alison. Or felt uncomfortable being in the same room. I, instead, felt that Jimmy was a little "touched", off-beat - but not a monster. He definitely had chops. His moment-to-moment work was on-point. He was unique and natural. But the character's a beast. It seemed the actor had a completely opposite metabolism from that of Jimmy. It was an interesting take - one that resulted from who was playing the part more than how - but it just didn't fly. So, much of the play just didn't take off. I was determined to leave at intermission.

But then she came onstage. Helena. She had been a replacement for the original Helena, just before opening, and so she had to carry a book around with her. She never looked at it. From her first breath, I knew I loved her. She was perfect - did everything a great actor should do: She was believable, she had an inner life, she was able to bring it to the surface, she made interesting choices fully supported by the script, she was relaxed without being casual, she found reversals and surprising moments, she was vulnerable, and DIDN'T PUSH ONCE. She listened - passed the ball. Plus, her accent was flawless. And she SO looked the part. So, even after the 100-minute first act, I stayed on.

To see if she could keep it up...

And she did.

She successfully connected the dots, mapped out her Helena's journey from beginning-middle-to-end. She kept the thread alive. Funny, whenever she was in a scene with someone, the someone got loads of better, and there was some engaging theatre going on.

But, you want to know the crazy thing? Found out this gal does not even pursue acting. She is a poetess. Seriously has no theatrical credits to her name. And tonight was her last performance. They are bringing in an "official" replacement tomorrow night.

What a lucky gift to see her? What an inspiration.

I had to send her a note on Facebook, naturally.

God love Facebook.

And - find your inspirations! Stalk them. They're out there...where you least expect them ;).

Captive Association

2010-10-20T22:38:00.000-07:00

Just got home from work. Rode on the E train from Chambers Street. 'Twas a peaceful ride. I listened to Leonard Cohen the entire way home, and was reminded of a reunion I had with an old "boyfriend" four years ago. (Actually, we never officially fulfilled the status quo here, we were determined to "be doomed" - to doom ourselves - in whatever scenario our love latched onto).

Four years prior to four years ago, we fell in love. And here he was, (four years ago), in New York for a visit. I hadn't seen him since four years ago. Not...four years before four years ago. But I'm losing the thread here.

He showed up in Queens, and we grabbed lunch at a funky little restaurant down the street, which was staffed entirely by Eastern-Europeans. So, the service was slow. And over the speakers, the restaurant started playing "The Best of Leonard Cohen". The entire album through.

I remember thinking it was appropriate music.

(Don't most people think songs are written solely for them?)

So, the music resonated on this nostalgic level. Mind you, we had both moved on. There were no ulterior motives at play here, mainly curiosity and politeness. And maybe a slight predisposition towards perceiving the other person as unfortunate, but this blog is not about the truth of the matter. Beyond the music, there was nothing really nice about the meeting.

Have you ever seen a former friend, and felt as if they had somehow taken all the steps they could have possibly taken in order to become the most disappointing version of themselves? Remember when you first got the internet - and it was AOL - and you thought it couldn't get any better? Try to use that now. That's what this meeting was like. And the music became incongruous. See...it tried to make me nostalgic, but it failed. All I could take in was how disappointed I was in this young fellow. He was all armed and guarded up. Lacking a surprising amount of humility or anything similar. Now, I'm not judging my judgment right now: I don't know whether I'm right or wrong about him, and I'm not interested in predicting what he thought of me. The blog is not about this!

My point is this: Every time I hear Leonard Cohen now, I think of a vague, ethereal notion of love, just as I always had before. I will always think of being in love with my husband, because K. was the person who introduced me to the music. But then, against my will, I must forever think of this disappointing little meeting in this arbitrary restaurant, all because the Slovakian waitstaff decided to play the entire album through. That's the point of this blog.

(Cue sad trombone sound).

(And gospel choir).

Tiredosity

2010-10-19T22:11:00.000-07:00

A typical eclectic day for me in New York. Following a relaxing day with no phone calls, this was a day that made me a bag-lady: Traveling with vitamins and outfits, putting on my different hats, traveling from borough to borough. Teaching yoga, auditioning, serving Rosie Perez her supper (no kidding). I've gone months without running into people I know -- in random encounters? -- they must've all squeezed their way into this day...Lovely, no complaints....

I think I walked up the same flight of stairs 150 times tonight....

And on the way home, I was the sole occupant in a particular subway car.

I took a video. See? But, don't look too closely. This is after someone got on. He's way in the background. Before this, I was all alone.

This is all I have tonight. Had you caught me earlier, I'd have lots more to offer.

I'll try to write on a more specific topic. "Autumn" and "Tiredosity" are sort of bendy when it comes to rules.

I think I'll write about Cardamom tomorrow.

Goodnight....Doing it all again tomorrow.

One

2010-10-18T18:06:00.000-07:00

In an attempt to streamline my thoughts -- and in turn, my life -- I am picking a single topic to blog about every weekday.

Consciously avoiding the onslaught.

Of thoughts.

That habitually render me speechless.

Maybe some of you can identify with me. Maybe those of you who used to be shy?

Panic-stricken on having to verbalize your thoughts?

And always faced with disappointment as these thoughts get lost in translation.

That is not what I'm thinking!

This experiment...will last for a month.

I'm hoping it will seep into my acting, too. Because how can you act more than one thing at a time? It's a form of dishonesty.

But time to be clear and specific.

These blogs will be boring, I promise you.

I'm not counting that intro as a "topic".

It is a preamble.

For the blog about...

(Wait)

(for)

(it)

"FALL"

There was a rude student in yoga class today. I felt well-prepared for it, handled the situation with grace (I thought), and decided to celebrate my yogic approach with a yogic walk. Delighted to see the beginnings of autumn. It's been years. I tried to forget Fall, took up with Spring instead. But, who am I kidding...my heart belongs to Autumn. It's my favorite, all-time-favorite, time of year.

We've agreed to write one another this next go-round.

Please forgive my cell-phone pics, I'm not much of a photographer.

(Coincidentally, I posted pictures of this same neighborhood in the Spring

[you must scroll down a bit] here.)

Along my walk in

Forest Hills, I met a pumpkin-and-white-colored cat.

He ran towards me

and professed

his undying love

for me. Then he scratched his butt

on my leg.

And on my run in Astoria Park, I saw two of New York's finest BLACK squirrels. I caught one of them here in a candid moment of squirrel-nutkinnery.

Yellow leaves and a yellow bug:

Bye!

War and Peace

2010-07-11T20:47:00.000-07:00

I just finished “War and Peace”. I started it last year, but I’m not working so much right now, so I had time to read. It to suit my “all-or-nothing” way of doin’ things. It’s classified as historical fiction....

(A note about the second epilogue: yes I only skimmed the second part of the epilogue. This much I gathered: Tolstoy was mistrustful of historians. The history books, to him, devote/d a lot undeserved time to the “heroes”, “villains” and “geniuses” of the past (oh how many times did he refer to Napoleon as a ”genius”? Like, a lot), and ignore the

other players – the rest of humanity. And as these historians look for reasons behind events, they underestimate the role of luck, chance, coincidence. Tolstoy really thought Napoleon was a Mr. Poopy Pants. “Loud and clear, Tolstoy”. At one part, I flipped to the back to read a summary of Volume IV, Part II, Chapter 10. It was as if the editor just gave up: “Napoleon failed in militarism, diplomacy, justice, religion, AND EVERYTHING ELSE”. (Well, he didn’t use all caps, but you get it now). No, Napoleon was not a “genius” – he came to power not through a master plan of his own but via some good luck. And France was chased away not because Napoleon made mistakes or had a bad cold but because Russia was better than France and knew the backroads and could handle the cold better. And then there’s the rest of humanity….)

The book was maybe the most satisfying book I’ve ever read…..I’d complain to my friends with my own catch phrase (I’m the first one to use it, I’m sure): “Heheheee, the war parts are a little boring but the peace parts are AWESOME!”. Really erudite, I know. I did get sleepy during a lot of the action sequences (it’s 1,358 pages, small font, and there are no wizards…give me a break) “I get sleepy during action scenes in movies so you can imagine what it’s like READING them IN BED! Hehehe!” I’d say.

But that was about as bad as it got. The war parts were not all action sequences, not at all. And the war parts are where you’ll get to really know my – and many people’s – most beloved character, Prince Andrey. He's a part of me now. It’s as if I’ve come across him in my own life and he's part of my personal history, part of my future nostalgia. Many of them, but in particular, this Prince Andrey

!!!!!!THE NEXT PARAGRAPH IS A SPOILER ALERT!!!!! (The exclamation points were in celebration of Spain’s victory):

( I forsee a mutt in my future who shall bear Prince Andrey's name...his death for me is the most salient part of this book...perhaps a lavender-grey dog with a bandy leg. There is such one in the script).

OK…you’re safe to read on now. Because there are lots of players - Tolstoy doesn’t change voices in the narrative or anything, but everyone gets a chance in the forefront and you see the world through a different set of eyes. And he gives you the subtext right away – which, as an a

ctor, I really appreciated. I was in on it all. I understood everyone – well, as much as I u

nderstand myself…

I latched on to certain characters. Of course my husband gave me a heads-up: “Most of the people you meet are going to die”, or “oh Liza? She’s a ninny”, or “Pierre is awesome”, or “I love Natasha. She reminds me of you.” So, I knew who kind of to invest in and who was indeed a twerp.

The book is also satisfying because of its resolution. I usually prefer open-ended novels/films, but after 1,358 pages, I found myself so thankful for the closure. It speaks of the good in people, and anyone going through an existential crises (aren’t we all) will identity with… reap worlds from…War and Peace.

But don’t take it from me! Here are some excerpts…Let them speak for themselves! I highly recommend the translation by Anthony Briggs:

“Natasha was indeed having the happiest time of her life. She was at the very peak of happiness, when a person is transformed into someone completely good and kind, and rejects the slightest possibility of evil, misery, and grief”.

“’A man can be the master of nothing while ever he fears death. And the man that fears not death possesses everything. Without suffering a man would know not his limits, would know not himself.’”

“’Get rid of this lot’, said the officer, pointing to the beams and the dead bodies. The French soldiers finishes off the wounded, and threw the dead bodies over the parapet. Who these men were nobdy knew. They were dismissed in a few words, ‘Get rid of this lot’, thrown down below and later cleared away to avoid a stink."

“’I suppose you mean the way to Warsaw!,’ said Prince Hippolyte in a very loud voice, much to everyone’s surprise. All eyes turned to him, no one knew what he meant. Prince Hippolyte stared around as well in breezy bemusement. He had no more idea than anyone else what his words were supposed to mean. He had often noticed in his career as a diplomat that an off-the-cuff remark like that was considered very witty, so he had blurted out the first words that came into his head, just in case. ‘It might come out all right,’ he had thought, ‘and if it doesn’t, they’ll know what to do with it.”

‎"Pierre saw the absence of suffering and the satisfaction of our basic needs, followed by the freedom to choose an occupation, or lifestyle, as the highest and most dependable form of human happiness...the enjoyment of eating when you are hungry, drinking when you are thirsty, sleeping when you are tired, keeping warm when it is cold and talking to a fellow creature when you feel like talking"

“’It’s not my fault I’m still alive and I want to live, and the same applies to you.’”

“’Marie, do you know something?...He’s different, sort of clean and smooth and fresh. It’s as if he’s just come out of the bath-house. Do you know what I mean? A moral bath-house.’”

Deanna's Reel

2010-06-19T11:23:00.000-07:00

So, I got married...

2010-06-02T17:24:00.001-07:00

I met the groom nearly eight years ago. You can read more about him here - but please only skim it. I've reread it since, and if I wasn't my own grandma (more about that later), I'd get a little sick to my stomach. It's saccharine. At any rate, on my birthday last year, he proposed to me. If you'd like to, you can read his vivid accounting of it here.

This will be short and sweet. I absolutely lied. It will be long and drawn-out. No professional photos up yet, so I'm borrowing from my talented friends and family (and oh, I do know some talents) to recount the wedding in my Blue Ridge Mountain place of birth.

First, getting the marriage certificate. It was empty the day we went, but the little lady behind the counter said it was usually hoppin'! We noticed on our application that children 16 or under needed to be accompanied by an adult. When we inquired, the lady raised an eyebrow, lowered her voice, mouthing "PREGNANT". There is a law, that in SC, you must be pregnant in order to seek marriage....if you are younger than 16. She, apparently, thought this was a bad idea.

Moving on...The rehearsal dinner hosted by Dr. & Mrs. Fair-een-yee was at the Lodge in Hendersonville, NC - it was seriously a beautiful night. Appetizers outside, then inside for a fantastic Southern bbq and a round of "toasts":

>Here's The Best Man, Ken's little brother Oliver, with his adorable girlfriend and two out of three of my new nieces. Seriously? I get THREE! How awesome is that?

>Kenny getting misty-eyed....Me getting misty.

My brother, Jody, made a surprise toast about how he's inspired by the two of us, what a sweet surprise....Jody has always been an inspiration to me, and I was so so happy he was my groomsman. Blake also gave a surprise toast that was almost as touching as his speech at the reception (which made me cry). He said I wanted two things out of life: "To not be a fat man, and to not be Moe from 'The Three Stooges'". I was neither. So, congrats, he said!

And below this, Ken's older brother, Tycho, and his younger brother, Max (he's got THREE brothers, so now I have FIVE!) enact a tale of trauma from Ken's childhood when Ken wouldn't let Tycho on his bike. Karma may have been in play when Ken's cape then got stuck under the wheel of his tricycle (oh, it was a tricycle, not a bike) Ken was strangled by his cape on his tricycle, catapulting himself forward, busting open his head.

Ken and I had several friends fly in for our big day. Ken especially had an amazing turn-out of college friends show up, many of whom he hadn't seen in a long time. It was truly touching that so many people made the effort to come out to this country-in-the-sticks (albeit beautiful) place, because I know it takes a lot of patience, time, and money to plan something like that.

I sometimes scoffed at weddings, thinking "who wants to throw money into something like that? It's only one day". But then my parents threw us this wedding. And these people came to honor this decision Ken and I were making with our lives. To show us they thought it was a GREAT idea. My brother's wedding was one of the happiest days of my life, and I understand now that throwing a party like this creates memories and connections with the people most dear to me in my life.

The morning of the wedding, an old friend came over to watch the Chelsea Soccer match at our house:

I did laundry, yoga, and then my heart started to palpitate a little too much. I was having trouble with my hair. At least I had my sister-in-law/bridesmaid to distract me....I decided I'd do her hair and wait for some inspiration to hit me.

Mom helped, too.

I decided a few months ago that I wanted my big brother Blake to be my "Mate of Honor".

He used to be my nemesis, but now he's my alter-ego. Because of this complexity, I wanted him by my side on the big day. He was very attentive throughout the day. Calling out the time, begging to pack my bags for me. But he was fired from doing my hair. We did a test-run the night before, and it didn't turn out too hot.

More pictures of us helping each other out:

That picture is Blake carrying my wedding dress in the rain.....

Oh, you didn't know? My did it rain.........

In fact, on the way to the wedding, it

It hailed. Hard. And I don't remember a single time it hailed when I was growing up. My dad had taken out his new, dream car. His toy. His seafoam-green bug. And it was hailing on it.

We pulled over and waited for it to stop hailing. Half the wedding party was directly behind us. Jody thought to bring a lucky, pink elephant. See how it forlornly watches on? (By the way, this is 3:45pm in the afternoon and it's that dark):

The other half of the wedding party and many of our friends were following Ken. Ken called me while we were pulled over to say they'd be rather late. In fact, they wouldn't be making the rehearsal (which was to be directly before the ceremony) at all. They'd make it in time for the 5pm wedding, but they had gotten a real bad start to the day. They were having trouble with directions.

But the cell phone was cutting in and out. And at one point, one of us said "it's complete chaos" and the conversation was no more.

About seven vehicles were following Ken up the mountain. He later said "it felt like a caterpillar trying to do a sit-up". I later found out what had happened...there'd been a lost tuxedo, forgotten important things, a shoddy GPS, and an Uncle who had test-driven the route to the chapel earlier but got lost....so the paper directions were discarded. And I am so laughing about this right now!

Meanwhile, I started dressing in the dressing room. The professional photographers were there, and I felt like I was on reality TV with the snapping and everything.....

............The groom arrived at 4:42! I remember distinctly...

That's The Best Man pinning the boutonniere on Ken. And that's Kimberley, Blake's girl, hugging Ken on his arrival. She and Amy were invaluable to have around. Especially when Kimberley came in to fetch my engagement ring because "Ken forgot to bring the rings". :) She had to repeat this a few times before I realized she wasn't joking.

At this moment, the clouds began to roll out, and guests I was worried about not making it, began to make it.

This is Pretty Place Chapel in NC. Well, right on the border of the two Carolinas, but technically, it's in South Carolina.

Before I knew it, the wedding party was lining up.

Here's Mom and the boys...Doesn't she look beautiful? I haven't spoken to Mom about this yet, but I'm sure she was thinking "Why isn't the guitarist playing 'Greensleeves'"? :)

Here's our Ring Bearer and Flower Girl. Vivie holds my engagement ring, and my Dad's wedding ring. We used those for the ceremony!

Here's Dad and I. See everyone looking at my train drag through the puddles? Even though Jody mopped up some of the water with a dish towel...

We had some friends do some readings....Beautiful Katherine read Sonnet 116

Brad read Corinthians

And Doug read ee cummings. Ken and I were making all sorts of funny faces during this reading, trying to hold back tears.

Dad and I crying after the ceremony....

A few pictures....

Then, it was off to party at this place with this albino peacock. The peacock was a sight. When we were dancing inside the lodge, it started to thunder and lightning and rain again, and we were called outside to see the peacock had flown up high into a tree....maybe 40 feet!

The cake was made for us as a gift by Tycho's mother-in-law, Jenny (pictured below with her husband, Joe). Seriously? She MADE this. It was amazing. And the flowers were from our bouquet: Purple Iris with a yellow stripe, Scottish thistle for good luck, among others.

Some more beautiful portraits (taken by the talented Katherine). First my generous and adoring in-laws:

As you can see, the love was thick this night.

I was so thankful for the little girls. Before the alcohol kicked in for everyone else, they were my earliest dancing partners.

Oh, but we danced.

The party didn't quite start until Blake put on Kimberley's shruggy. It was a tradition started when Jody got hitched, and I was happy to see that it has actually become - a Gibson wedding tradition.

Oh! I stand mistaken....The party ACTUALLY started when DJ Arroz played "The Duck Dance". A Fair-een-ye family tradition.

Oh,

there

was

LOTS

of lame dancing.

It was Shelley's birthday, also. Shelley is the blonde in the bridal party pictured up a bit...and down below. She's a long-time friend of Ken's and I'm lucky to have her as my friend now. She's good people:

Dad's champagne toast was brilliant, but his ebullience embarrassed my Mom. Here's a classic picture taken by Jodes. See my Dad's mischievous expression?

The lamest of all, the conga line! My Uncle Paul (behind me) might have danced longer than any of us combined....

My good-lookin' "bridesmaids":

My good-lookin' bridesmaids part 2:

Anything else? Oh yeah! Mom and Dad, look at the party you threw!!!

Oh! And thank you so much Ken, I love you. The past month has been an amazing ride. I think we know by now we're fortunate to have found each other. We're lucky. I look forward to my life --- with you.

photo credits: Matthew, Katherine, Jody, Blake, Bobby, Becky, Max, Joe, and Kimberley

Where I'm.

2010-04-23T12:53:00.000-07:00

It's been a while since I've done a quality post.

I've been busy, for obvious reasons. Today, I had planned to go see my friend in a show in Baltimore, but the timing just didn't work out (sorry, Natasha). She's such a great actress. And I like her approach to the work. She's a kindred spirit. So, I was looking forward to seeing her, as well as her work...Next time.

I don't make as much time for my friends as I would like to. Sometimes, I feel like my friendships are weakening....

Teaching yoga in Forest Hills (See right).

New studio just opened up.
Really like it.

Like the experience and the people and studio.

It's slow right now, but it's a bustling sidewalk and is only a matter of time before they are doing good business, I think.

Also teaching at the fancy-schmancy gym with all the meatheads. This is even slower business. No current clients at the gym have dared try out the yoga class. I've been tempted to leave....but I'll let them ask me to leave first. There's no pressing need to go.

But, in the area, I get to look at pretty trees in Madison Square Park:

And watch the doggy-doodles in the park:

On the acting front, I got to perform a reading with this theatre company. Really great group. Looking forward to seeing "My Custom Van" tomorrow.

Was called in to audition for Death of a Salesman at a prominent regional theatre. Met a particular casting director I've been wanting to meet for a while.

Was up against one other girl for a two-month long stand-in gig, but I didn't get that (not really acting, that job)....that's ok because now I get to go to ITALY at the appropriate time for our honeymoon.

Oh? You didn't know? Ken and I will be staying here for 8 days. Next Month.

<-----This is the actual place....

We tossed around a few ideas. Costa Rica (cheap, easy to get to, and the people we polled unanimously pointed out its pleasing factors), cruises (not too much stress re: getting around), USA (still haven't been to San Fran to visit my brother)...I won't include a fourth here since there is a rule of three at play....

But Italy was the only place that lit up both our hearts with the promise of perfection.

Even though I've been before...and it is one of the four other countries I've been to before...WHO CARES! IT'S ITALY! RAHHHGGGHHRR!!!!!

Plus, there are some artistic reasons we want to go too, but I'll wait a while before I blog about that :).

Running. Hardly fast, hardly anything. But Ken and I ran 6.2 (lots of hills) through Queens and Brooklyn today, over the Williamsburg bridge. Days off are good for these longer runs. Hopefully, there's a Vibram five fingers in my future (nerd nerd nerd nerd to the tune of a clock chime) and more 9-milers.

Waiting tables has become my primary source of income. Getting a tad better at it. I suck balls at opening wine at the table. Still something that terrifies me, but I'm proud of myself for getting over the challenge.

Every Spring for the past three years I've been acting in Vero Beach, Fl. I miss it there, but sticking it out up here - without the unemployment checks - makes me proud, too. Yoga is a constant teacher. Teaching is a constant teacher. Waiting tables is that. And not doing what I want to do is that, too.

So, my first full spring in New York. Spring cannot get here too soon. The Winter drags on a bit here in New York....Something, again, I've always skipped out on. I can appreciate this suspense. But, look:

New York City....

I often think about escaping.

But the truth is, I AM doing what I want to do.

Even if it isn't very pretty at times.

Next post: Wedding

The Oldest Dreams I've Ever Had Since the Beginning of Time

2010-04-02T20:10:00.000-07:00

The Oldest Dreams I've Ever Had Since the Beginning of Time

I wanted to be a famous writer (not anymore. not one bit)

I wanted to have red hair, a turned-up nose, and freckles. I also wanted two big front teeth.

I wanted to be "Babes in Toyland"

I wanted to always wear my hair in pigtails (pigtails in my family were two braids on the side of your head; you know, like Dorothy)

I wanted to be in a school play (never happened, not in grade school it didn't)

I wanted to be the fastest runner in school (I was, for a while)

I wanted to be liked by boys

I wanted to be - and was to some extent - a tomboy

I wanted to be Anne of Green Gables

I wanted to be the funniest girl on the coldesac

I wanted to make my Mom laugh

I wanted to live in an old cottage in the english countryside that resembled a Beatrix Potter illustration

I wanted to be like my brothers

I wanted to be like my cousin, Allison

I wanted to have my dog by my side

I wanted an overnight job in a factory for a bit

I wanted to be the poor flute-playing girl with braids we passed on the street that day

I wanted to make my Dad proud

I wanted to get married when I was maybe 30

I wanted to travel the world

I wanted to be beautiful, but in an unconventional way

I wanted to learn about Eastern cultures

I wanted to live in a different time

I wanted to be in movies, crying about something or other

I wanted to be skinny

I wanted to eat lots of chocolate and Little Caesar's Pizza

*I wanted to have a pen pal

I wanted to speak with an English accent

I wanted to have imaginary friends, but I just never really believed in them. Always wanted to, though

I wanted to sing

I wanted the lazor tag guns to work for me, just once

*(I did, for nearly a year. She lived in New Zealand and her name was Jacqueline. But I out-wrote her, and she grew weary of me. My Dad told me he thought this might be due to the fact that her penmanship was so exuberantly perfect ,that she didn't have the time nor the energy to write more substance. This might be why I choose to write sloppily most of the time. Jacqueline lived on an orchard and her favorite "colours" were blue and black, "which sounds odd, but together they're great" - as evidenced by her clever sweater vest layering technique she showcased in her school photos).

Common Sense Says...

2010-03-15T15:55:00.000-07:00

The things that ground:

reading novels, novellas, short stories, poetry

chopping vegetables, beating eggs, stirring sauces (using the hands)

drinking wine with a loved one

jogging

yoga

pranayama

meditation

petting a pet (it is called a pet, after all)

playing guitar (using the hands)

singing (just not at an audition) folk, jazz, standards

listening to the music that sends the heart soaring

drawing, painting (using the hands)

laughing

sipping tea, sipping coffee

watching rainfall (if that's the only thing you're doing)

entertaining a child

long walks (preferably over bridges or at the botanical gardens, and with a loved one)

dinner parties

journaling

making someone feel better

acting on stage

If these are the things that make me happy, I should strive to do these more often. Logic says.

In light of this, the list of things which create anxiety is as follows:

Facebook

The Internet, including email

waitressing

meeting new people pre-determined by me to intimidate

auditioning

listening to stories of tragedy or disaster

commuting

politics

difference of opinion which leads to taking things personally

refusing to smile

refusing to sleep

dwelling on the future

eating too much sugar

reading gossip magazines

overactive imagination (imagining horror-show-type or soap-opera-type scenarios)

rushing from place to place (ill-and-under-preparation)

spending too much money on something

Some of these things are necessary, I know. And some of them create backbone. But, looking at the lists, I don't know why I would choose Facebook over a good book, or choose "worry" over meditation and sleep.

Can easily sub a few here and there.

And when that happens, as it has the last couple days, I realize in a flash what I've been missing.

All part of my master plan to one day have a dog.

Beba

2010-03-08T14:45:00.000-08:00

Focus, Deanna, focus.

To blog about my self-absorption - or how my self-absorption is a result of the malicious taunting of my middle-school-peers (you know who you are :)). Or, to blog about how the yoga mat is often called the microcosm of the universe, but I really think that everything is the microcosm of the universe (every experience we have is a direct result of our dealings in the world at large). To blog about my meeting with a playwright wherein he confessed he had a relationship with a 12-year old girl when he was 22 (and how I did not react)? Should I blog about my walk home from 11th Ave to Queens, or the fact that I am the world's worst waitress?

Should I blog about my trip to Hudson and how I performed a reading of a new play and was treated like a Queen for a day - or the wonderful artists I met - or should I tell you about the geodesic dome they put us up in, and how the subtle aroma of whatever was inside sent my heart brimming to the point of euphoria (for a reason I cannot tell you, I can't remember the origin of the scent nor what was actually responsible for it, only that I was transported to my childhood and was thankful for the trip). Maybe I should write about my host?

Maybe about how the wedding plans are progressing?

My eternal shyness?

My plans for the week?

The fact that my computer died?

How I wrote and recorded my first song with K? (I'll post it when we've finished editing).

My health?

I don't know what to write about. Plus, I think I just blogged about all the above anyway. Just now. So....

Why not write about....

What I really want to write about is...

Beba.

Beba is the man to the left. That's my granddad. Though, I didn't know he was my granddad for my first years of life because everyone called him "Beba". I suppose that's typical when the family assigns a pet name to a grandparent.

He looked a bit like Peter Fonda when he was younger. When he was older, Rex Harrison.

There will be no grandparents at our wedding...

None of them still living...

Beba was the first to go....(he died from a heart attack when I was 12)

But....he was favored....by me.

He was an actor, too.

I didn't know this until after he died and I became an actor.

It wasn't brought up too much by my grandma. When I asked about those summers he worked with Horton Foote at a theatre in Maine, she looked down and shook her head and said she didn't want to talk about it.

I wish I had the pictures to show you....of him onstage. Of his headshot. They are at home in South Carolina. I'll get them to you soon.

But, there's a wonderful picture of him as Torvald.

And in "The Importance of Being Earnest".

And the man was obsessed with Shakespeare.

He wasn't averse to musical theatre....

I had learned to sing "Memory" when I was very young, and he'd accompany me on his piano. (Musicals sparked my interest in the theatre, though I only do straight theatre now). This happened almost every time I'd see him.

He'd sometimes launch into an English accent...

When my mom was young, they struggled. He had to drive a taxi, and then he took on a job at the post office.

Which he hated so much he would drink lots of scotch when he got home.
And he'd record silly things on the tape recorder.

But, by the time I knew him - he was pretty much a prince. And, if he did drink? I never knew. My mother was in love. And my grandparents were in love...

Even though their pet names for each other were hilarious and sarcastic and if I knew you better I'd put it on this blog.

By the time I knew him, he was down to a cigarette a day, and he'd smoke outside. He was SPECIAL. And I loved him so, so much.

And, before I go out onstage for any performance, I talk to him. Always have, always will.

A Week In Review

2010-02-28T09:13:00.000-08:00

Last week, I posted about my experience doing some extra work on a new TV show. I mentioned the title of the show, which I realized at the time was maybe a bad choice, but didn't think anyone would read my blog. I think my blog was up for just over 12 hours before I got a phone call asking me to remove it.

So embarrassed.

So, the photos are removed (they were really cute) as well as anything else juicy.

But, can recap. I was writing about choices in the business, and how you never know what's worth the risk what's not. You need to follow your gut, you can only do what you can do. And remain loyal. Act with integrity and lessen the fear.

My agent (the one I talked about here) had gotten me my first audition in many, many months. And it was for the same day as this extra work I had already booked. It was also for the same series. It was for a recurring character.

I didn't take the audition....

It was really, really hard to say no. Especially because I never get auditions like this. And that's all I want to do -- is to audition for things like this.

But...I wouldn't have gotten the part anyway.

I'm not being negative, and I'm not creating a self-fulfilling prophesy. I just don't have the credits for a job like that right now, though I may have the chops. One day soon, I'll get there. I must relax and know that as random as this audition was for me, there must be another random one on its way....

Another friend I met that day said he admired my integrity and that I am bound for success because of it.

All of this is on the heels of a couple weeks of seemingly futile work. Working as a receptionist at a new sports club and waiting tables at a new restaurant...

Then my new yoga class sort of fell apart (the owner changed the schedule on me -- second time in a row -- as soon as I showed up at the studio to teach my class. This will not do! I've rearranged my schedule for this, AND have to find my own students. How can I build a client base if my class has no set-time? Though she is very nice and I felt terribly guilty, I had to quit and move on).

Waiting tables is not rocket science, but it terrifies me.

There are so many opportunities for failure.

This scares me so much.

It's not acting -- it's not what I was trained to do. It's way out of my comfort zone.

But I cannot come to peace with the fears that plague me until I face them head-on.

So, I am gunna be a waitress. Even though I am a self-proclaimed bad waitress.

I resolved to do that this week. To rally. To buck up.

And as soon as I made that resolution (I wouldn't say a great calm came over me, I still messed up with claiming my tips on Thursday and didn't know the names of important wines), some really great things happened.....

I got asked to sub another corporate yoga class, out-of-the-blue....

I had two wonderful open calls.....

I got an audition (through my own submission) for one of my dream plays....

I got an audition for an off-broadway play (my own submission)....

I got the audition for the TV show I couldn't take -- all in one day....

That was totally serendipitous.

Then, I saw my beloved's inspiring Improv 201 show at UCB. I knew he'd be great, we all know Ken's smart-as-a-whip....but I didn't know how "in his element" he'd be up there. He was the ruler of the roost. It was just extremely inspiring.

And, that night, we went to a new friend's new home in New Jersey. We'd read her blog (she went to Ken's alma mater), and Ken was online buddies with her for three years. WE HAD THE BEST TIME! Topo invited her glob-trotting friends; and at one point, I was in the room with no other American. But, an Italian, a Belgian, a Greek, a Mexican, and Canadian. Topo herself is serenely beautiful and welcoming. She has great taste. And her husband (Pnut) is uniquely wonderful. A big thank you to those two for inviting us into their home.

Also, last Tuesday I was a reader for a new show on ABC: Meaning I and the head casting director for this show will be in the room for a couple hours with people who are auditioning, (I read the other part with them). I got called to do this because someone decided to be nice and call me.

So, everything's coming up roses. And, my initial response to this is -- of course -- fear. What if I lose all this momentum tomorrow?!

I will.

But IT WILL come back :).

Sorry again this blog is so very self-involved. It's just what I needed right now....

The History of Love: Ken

2010-02-11T20:20:00.000-08:00

(Ken circa late 70's???)

When I was a little girl, I would often think about falling in love. I guess getting married would be something that would naturally follow such a thing. The man I imagined falling in love with...was faceless. Abstract. He followed along the footsteps of no prototype. And now I know why. Now, when I think of love, and I automatically see his face:

Now, today, his image is readily available to me.
<<<<----------------------------This is my future husband!

(the day we got engaged, September 29, 2009)

When I first met K., we found ourselves seated back-to-back on an ottoman at a meet-and-greet party for grad school (for acting).I was 20, he was 26. I wore a sour expression with heavy black eyeliner and a red bandana around my head. We were both attached at the time...but I was in love with a boy who'd gone to study French in France. Some would call it puppy-love, not very complex, and very short-lived, and moderately tumultuous. If that even makes sense.

I was determined to not have a good time my first few weeks in grad school......

Meanwhile, on the ottoman: Ken said to me "Back-to-back. Just like the old days. Right, Deanna?" I was caught off-guard. Didn't want to make friends. Wha??? "Um, yeah". It was a reference to "Waiting for Godot", though I didn't know it at the time....

(me and K. in London in 2004. Here, the bandana takes on a more tame approach -- though this is the same bandana I wore that first night we met)

...The next day, I was late to class.

"I had gotten lost in the building", I said, to which my voice teacher raised a brow and didn't say a word. It's true, I lied. And she knew better. Our first exercise was to describe to a partner our favorite place - or place we love that carries the most meaning for us. Ken and I were assigned to each other: We were often partnered together throughout grad school, especially this first year. Ken looked at me with concern and said: "So, what happened?" I explained I just wasn't really together, and then described a bench on the Carl Sandburg home in Flat Rock, NC where my sweetheart and I would frequent. K. described a rooftop in LA. He spoke of the music and the aroma of the food nearby.

Signs of predestiny:
*In acting class, K. and I were assigned partners for a month - Meisner activities and repetition, and K. and I were assigned to work props ("Team Props") as part of our assistantship that first year. He quickly became the person I was always looking for whenever I was out and about. When he showed up, I knew everything was going to be alright, alright. And when he wasn't there, and it wasn't fun, I knew it was because he wasn't
there. He was my "favorite" (classmate? person? your choice).

I loved him so much! I loved being around him! (Still do, you can all breathe a sigh of relief).

(This picture was taken in 2003 during our second-year after the closing matinee of "The Competition". I played a Russian magician, and he played a Russian errand-boy. His part was bigger than mine). ----------------------->>>>>>>

*Our final scene in Acting class, where we played a couple who'd had a one-night stand and then an abortion -- was in a word -- stellar.

*He was even brought up in my end-of-the-year assessment. Rick Cannon said I was almost quiet to a fault, but seeing as how I'm always hanging around Ken (yes, I said his name), he could understand how I "couldn't get a word-in-edgewise". I was proud of how obvious our friendship had become to others.

Our first fight was during the summer after our first year. I'd taken a job at the Asolo Theatre's call center, after he had. In fact, I'm certain that he was the reason I was brave enough to consider cold-calling people as a telemarketer. There were four middle-aged-and-beyond women in the call-center with us, all with deliciously distinct vocal patterns. They were top-sellers, as was he, but as I grew up painfully shy, I lacked basic salesmanship skills. So, he thought I should call myself "Elektra". Thought that might bolster some subscriptions, and get me a commission. I did try it - on an answering machine...

But the whole ordeal was too depressing (this was before my experience in NYC, so my skin was shamefully delicate) and Sarasota was blistering. Plus, my brother was getting married in a few weeks, so I decided to just GO HOME for the summer. I was watching my roommate's cat, while she was in London, and needed to get another keeper. Ken? Ken? We set up a play date for our cats, and I casually prolonged my ETA -- due to a night out with a friend, and he was, rightly, upset. He got me on the phone and said I was "flighty!" and "irresponsible!"....

And we didn't talk for an entire month or so...

Till he wrote me an email out-of-the blue, apologized for his overreaction, and offered to pick me up at the Sarasota Airport for a dawn of a new year. He did, and I even remember what he was wearing: A black Hawaiian shirt with guitars and ladies in grass skirts. It's still one of my favorite shirts (I'm one of the few women I know who like Hawaiian shirts on men :P).

(here he is the summer after this, in London on one of our many bus tours, 2004):

.....There was another year that went by.....
..............where similar things occurred..............
he would often appear on lunch dates with me and my then boyfriend. This happened more than a couple times. I think my bf and I were both too polite to let him know he was third-wheelin' it. Sorry darling, it's true!

And then we went to London with our acting class! Where I would spend time with him, but not an unusual amount of time. He would enjoy many experiences separate from mine, including Amsterdam. I? Italy.

BUT, we did manage to fly back on the same connecting flight from Milano...SITTING NEXT TO EACH OTHER.

He protected me from the youngsters sitting behind me who were kicking my seat with their over-sized feet ("Now is the time you need to stop doing that. Ok? No more.") He scared the bejeebus out of them.

(Ken and I in Hampstead Heath, England, Summer 2004)

I had no clue that in a few months, we'd be dating...Even when a classmate said to me, in Italy, out-of-the-blue, "Kenny loves you, Deanna. You can't deny it", I had no clue.

I will spare you from the sordid details (details are always followed by something sordid, no?) of the next few months, but I will say that my love for Kenny - which was platonic, I thought - changed in one moment. And I knew he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. (Though I didn't really tell him that for a while).

The Plays:
Our first show together as an item was "Peter Pan". I played an Ostrich and he played a Wolf. We had a short bit together which covered a scene change. It involved him terrorizing me and chasing me off the stage. Laughter ensued.

Then, we played many parts opposite each other in "Sherlock Holmes & the West End Horror"
Our next show together was in NYC...as fate would have it, we played lovers in "The Merchant of Venice", cast without reading opposite each other, auditioning separately, along with everyone else in NYC.

It would be another two years before we would act together: This time, in a story of his creation, angel/buddy, which made it to the Fringe Festival. Did I mention Ken is my favorite writer?

He is my favorite writer....

He's published, too. But that doesn't matter....

I love his plays for the same reasons I love him. They are the opposite of boring. Dark, bitingly funny, and original. But TRUTH-seeking, they are grounded in truth. His point-of-view is ever-so specific and deep.

Although angel/buddy took a lot out of him, and went into production just before a difficult time for us, I remember the rehearsals for this show were, to me, something like Heaven. Working with friends, creating something together, acting in something he wrote (WITH him): a dream.

[Ken and I performing in "angle/buddy" as part of the 2007 NYC International Fringe Festival. he played Buddy; and I played Gina (his ex), an alien, Angel's mother during an hallucination, and a beggar who was really an alien also.]

Most recently, we played in a 5-minute piece performed with Project: Theatre's OUR BAR. Written by him. I can't wait to act with him again...

But enough about plays....

At my very core....

Ken
......makes
...........me
...............feel
...................like
........................I've found my way home.

(the day we got engaged, at the Bronx Zoo. I like this picture because the camera angle distorted my nose and it looks really small).

When I was a little girl, I never felt lonely (though I spent much time alone), because I was always writing - and acting out the things I wrote. I'd record it on my tape recorder - like a big dorkess. I'd carry this tape recorder wherever I went. This included songs. I still have the songs, and I must admit -- I was a pretty funny little girl. But, some of these ideas I had were so embarrassingly silly. I always thought no one else did stuff like that.

I am so thankful Ken is as silly as I am: When we create (write songs, webisodes, whatever), it reminds me of that intangible, unreachable part of my most likable self - the self I was when I was at my most innocent. And I feel as though I've come home.
I couldn't be happier to marry K. He was faceless before, and now he has this face. He's my love.

*He's the SMARTEST guy I've ever known who happens to be the easiest relatable. He is a force of nature. He has boundless energy that revitalizes my sagging energy.
*He is not in the slightest superficial -- Thank GOD for this.
*He is a great cook: frittatas, roast chicken, pasta...
*He was a boyscout, was for many years. (His Dad -- while a doctor {and I mean internist} -- was also boyscout leader, which is a testiment to the way K. was raised and the caliber of my new family). K. can do pretty much anything around the house (including fancy boy-scout knots around cardboard boxes).
*He is my favorite teacher (he taught me to run and to play guitar), AND he's my most avid supporter. One of the reasons I'm a yoga teacher is because of him -- he planted the seed in my little head. He also gives up hours out of his week to coach my audition pieces.
*He boils water for me when the bath is too cold.
*When he had a car, he'd often drive me to work at 11:30pm for my night shift: Just to make my life more comfortable, and to see me succeed.
*He has amazing red hair. As my Dad would say, "That's good protein".

He makes me feel at home. I love our love. What more can I say?

Can I go on a bit more? Okay. Thanks.

I've never known a mind like his. The way he talks. His deliberate choice of words. So very on-point. His point-of-view, his "take on things". The way he sees the world. The way he verbalizes these thoughts....I'm always interested to hear what he has to say. It's like an elixer. I get high off of it.

I was not a very verbal person. I grew up around some visual artists (I am an amateur artist, myself). There's a virtue in this as well. But, as I'm so often unable to voice exactly what I'm thinking, I am in awe as he does precisely this.

(Ken and I in Jackson Hole, WY this past Christmas at my great-Aunt's ranch)

In recent years, Ken's become a talented bloggist (Sorry to plug "Omless" again, it just happened that way :)). His fascination of Mo the Chimpanzee is unrivaled. Be sure to check out "Chimp on a Segway", a song he wrote to go along with this crazy chimp. He wrote it in our recording studio he made.

(above us circa 2005, below 2009)

When I was a little girl....I wrote and illustrated a book called "The Little Girl of the Clown". I wrote/illustrated in detail my prince charming.

I was a little princess who went off to find her love. My sister married someone rich. But I wound up with some clown in a field. I'll scan it and show you one day. The picture is pretty apt. I'm just sittin' there hangin' out with some guy with clown makeup on.

The metaphor is accurate. Not that you're a clown, Ken. You're just who I want. I chose you (as I hope you chose me).

Happy Valentine's Day, Ken.
I love you!
<3>

The Poet Laureate of South Jamaica

2010-02-04T20:52:00.000-08:00

So, this past Monday I did some extra work on "Law&Order: SVU" as -- funny enough -- a member of the jury. This was a classic day of extra work: Waiting around in "Holding" for eight hours and then being called to set to finish off the day. The good part about this was we had characters (we were not just pedestrians), and were the only extras in the room. We had to react and "be moved" by a video of a woman dying -- a woman who was raped. We were given this direction as the DP and Director panned our 12 and focused in on a few faces (including yours truly).

"So, don't you think I should lean forward like this?" says Poet.

"No, no -- just stay still" says the 2nd AD.

After about two minutes, the 2nd comes back and instructs Poet to move forward -- he was right. It works well with the picture of the scene.

************************************************************

"Poet" M. rolled into Holding a few minutes after I did. There was plenty of room for people to have a couple seats for themselves -- but for some reason, my seat and the three surrounding had attracted a foursome (including me) who decided to stay even though we awkwardly claimed the seats at different times -- thinking at that time that no one else was sitting next to us...

Of course, I cannot speak for Poet. He was 5'5" and very slight. He had grey hair. In his late 60s? He wore overalls. And the third thing he said to me (after asking me the name of the production company and production number) while running his fingers through his imaginary locks, tossing his head, was asking how his hair looked?

"Huh huh huh, that's what white guys do. You know what I'm talkin' about? Yeah, you know what I'm talking about."

I smiled and giggled, thinking he was a nice old man.

Little did I know he was a perverse, comic genius: A vibrant unicorn. Yes, that's right: Poet Moss is a unicorn.

He repeated his hair joke to me three times. And after the second, he partially excused it by saying he was only joking "You know that, don't you? Of course you do. If you don't, you have no business being here, am I right?" And the way he said it was not to impose or to bully. He was an innocent. He was truly making sure I was ok with it -- before he could proceed.

The first hour, he talked mostly with my caddy-corner neighbor-- a younger black man who was reading a book on marketing and the Internet. During this hour, Poet would catch my eye...or something he would say would make me laugh uncontrollably -- which is sayin' something because I get pretty well annoyed by the typical background actor who thinks himself a riot. He'd call me "Lady" at this point....and a couple hours later, this turned into "Baby".

Across from me was a man who was as square as they come. He engaged only me in conversation, asking about my engagement (I love wearing this ring....it prevents awkward conversations), telling me about his separation. He wore a smug expression and affected an accent that left me feeling uncomfortable in my pity. We talked about juicers; all the while, a cavalcade of documents come pouring out of Poet's bag. He carried with him typewritten copies of letters he's sent to important persons like Tiger Woods and Michael Bloomberg. Bloomberg to change the New York Slogan.....he even had a jingle to go with it. This jingle he would sing with a nitty-gritty voice, up-tempo. He would often sing it while we were rolling and were supposed to be quiet. Which would make me laugh, which he would then notice and latch onto. He would launch into a stutter sometimes, but instead of this weakening him, it played to his advantage. It was his creativity at work (did I mention he had a strong, sharp, and short inhalation - through his nose sometimes? It's a sign of his intelligence.) An energetic thing -- he couldn't get the thought out quickly enough.

People stared at him, shaking their head, thinking he was bat-* crazy. And there was I, taking pride in my renegade-ism. In supporting what might be a nuisance to someone else.

He handed me one of his letters to Tiger, saying I should hold onto it because "You never know, it may be worth money". The man across from me rolled his eyes.

Didja know? Poet Moss wrote the musical "CATS" -- only, in his version, the cats were a bunch of toddlers. There was Cry-Baby Sharlene and Bab Baby Bi-bo, and Cry-Baby Sharlene had "fly pampers".
He sang one or two of the songs, saying he was very protective of children.....

Let me re-emphasize that the man was not creepy. He was simply put: adorable.

We bonded over his many creative projects. He read sides with me for an upcoming audition. He stressed the importance of getting off-book (memorized). "You mind is your mind". And I left with a DVD of one of his films -- he told me to text him what I thought of it. He walked me to the subway and made me promise several times to call or text that I got home safely. And that he would pray for me as I was a young person getting married.

I let him know when I was home.

And the next day, I got a text: "I prayed to God to keep you BUSY. Good luck with script. Poet".

I can't wait to watch his film....I'll let you know how it is. In the meantime, maybe you can watch him in this. Ha!

************************************************************

Contrasted with this vibrant unicorn of a man were two old fogies sitting behind Poet and me. Boring, 70ish year-old old men. Confusing the crew with the Krafty people. Just so....done. While I was marveling over Poet, the exchange between these two men went like this:

#1 "Yes, so the acting career is over. This is all that's left"

#2 "Yup. Nothin'"

#1 "And the women, too!"

#2 "Tell me about it. The only women I'm attracted to wouldn't look at me twice."

#1 "I'm only attracted to young women."

#2 "A woman I worked with the other day was flirting with me, she was older - you know. And I thought 'Sorry, honey!'"

#1 "Story of my life"

#2 "I was trying to talk with this beautiful 25-year old girl, but she wouldn't give me the light of day."

#1 "It's over....and death is around the corner, too. Have you been thinking about that these days?"

#2 "I know"

You think I'm joking, but I'm not. How miserable is that.

Ahhhh, Poet. We parted ways at the E train stop because he had to go buy Rod Stewart's album. He'd been singing it all day. And Rod was his favorite singer.

On another note, here's the "Omless" Pilot for those of you who haven't seen it.

Love to you!

INNOCENT

2010-01-21T17:42:00.000-08:00

....My fifth and final day of Jury Duty.

We six returned from a restful night's sleep, dreaming of rowdy schoolkids and bloody hands. Because that's what the case was about.....
But, what the plaintiff's attorney didn't do.....
was provide proof beyond a reasonable doubt....
that the city was at fault.....
so we said that the city was I-N-N-O-C-E-N-T.

But something funny happened today.
When we were waiting for our Court Officer to gather us up (we were not permitted to leave the room o' deliberation on our own)....
we discovered the "doorbell" he gave us - which we were to press when we were READY (he carried the other piece in his belt-loop) - was not lighting up properly....
We buzzed him for 40 minutes.
And then the eldest guy on our jury (A white-haired Dana Carvey'esque rapscallion who worked for Verizon) asked:
"Anybody got any batteries? These batteries are corroded."
No one had batteries. Except one girl. Who had a lone AA in her purse. The corroded batteries in the doorbell were AAA.
"Anyone got any paper clips?"
The same girl had some paper clips in her pockets.
He straightened out the clips and attached on either end of the AA....

One minute later, the court officer (who looked like Will Ferrel, "but usually get[s] Clint Eastwood"), knocked on our door.

"You rang?"

Applause.

So, jury duty is FINITO and I will not serve for another SIX YEARS!

They gave me a certificate, and we'll get a check in the mail....so they say.

*************************************************************

Now, on to health news. This week, I did more of this (If you don't like needles, don't watch):

The lovenox was a precautionary method....
And at $30 a pop, twice a day, I'm glad I can stick with my Coumadin. Because:

After my ultrasound today, they have determined: I HAVE NO MORE DVT. ANYWHERE. NOT IN MY ARM. NOT IN MY LEG. NOWHERE!

For those of you who don't know, I spent Sunday evening in the ER. I had just finished a yoga class and was going to assist my very first time when my left leg puffed up like a balloon. So I made some calls and hopped a train and a cab to Roosevelt's St. Lukes. Because my arm had done this three months ago (while I was working in Florida) when they found out I had had a blood clot DUE TO DESOGEN. So, I was scared shitless.

It took under an hour to get an initial ultrasound at the hospital...in Florida, it took four hours. In Florida, it took me 4.5 days to get sent home with Lovenox. Here, in NYC? four hours. The doctor even discharged me himself. He called me three times when I got home to make sure I was OK. In Florida? I had Beaulah.

If you're going to be sick, I hope you're sick in NYC.

NOT THAT I'M SICK.

OK. So, after seeing the Russian woman again today and the Vascular Surgeon, looks like this is what happened. A SPORTS INJURY. Likely from running....not yoga :). I think I felt it when it happened :). Like a lightning blot :). It's coming back to me now.

SOMETHING THAT MIMICS A BLOOD CLOT: CALF STRAIN. So, I haven't run since Saturday. It's good for me anyway, to break that habit. I need to revisit why I'm running. (I love it). And, as Mark Twain says, "Diligence is a good thing, but taking things easy is much more--restful."

Sorry to shout, but I'm a hypochondriac on top of it all. So...I've worked myself up into quite the tizzy this week.

So, I'd like to give a big shout-out to my darlingest, dear K. for putting up with me.

************************************************************
Speaking of which (tizzy), I need to get back in tune with this breath thing, and this happiness thing. I look forward to blogging next week about more uplifting ideas and experiences. Because, you create your experiences by the way you breathe. And, I have not been breathing properly for a while....

.....like maybe since I was four.

Which is too bad, because I got hired to teach a weekly yoga class. In Astoria. And it's all about breath. Ujjayi. The Bandhas. Not devotional. Personal. And I digg it. And I need to practice what I preach. HUZZAH.

So....Jury duty: DONE
Blood Clot: GONE
Yoga Job: Check!

Hmmm...wedding stuff still underway.....didn't get any auditions this week because of the dooty of the jury but I read my March play and memorized my Ayckbourn (I have to google his name every time I write it) piece for Feb, and I have audition tomorrow....for a film....I'm auditioning for a lesbian in a wheelchair.

And I've got an interview tomorrow for a potential day job.

K & I saw "Funny People" and BOY, THAT WAS NOT GOOD.
K & I saw "The Hurt Locker" and it was the finest piece of reel I've seen in a while.

I'm so over talking about myself. I wish my blog could be more like hers. Her blogs uplift me :). They really do. I don't know her, but I read her blog every day.

Shall I close with this? I'd like to... "Breath is central to Yoga because it is central to life. And yoga is about life". That's what Krishnamacharya said. Me likey.

A Couple more Photos from Wyoming...

2010-01-21T17:22:00.000-08:00

Jury Duty: Thoughts on a week

2010-01-15T20:33:00.000-08:00

Think about giving something to Haiti....might be a good idea. Our wonderful grocery store has this empty water jug wherein we can place our donations. You can also do that texting thing, but I heard that the credit card companies have been keeping a percentage of that for themselves. I wouldn't put it past them.

Now that that's out of the way (whew!) I can talk about mySELF.

I reported to Civil Court yesterday even though I began calling in as a telephone standby juror last Friday. I didn't know what that meant at the time, but I thought it was akin to something like "alternate" or "not likely to show up".

Fortunately, I was sent to Queens -- which is convenient because I live there. Just hop the R/V to the E/F and skip and jump to Civil Court.

Going through security, I raced to finish at least some of my water so I wouldn't have to feel so badly about tossing it -- only to find that if we're jurors, we can ignore the signs that say "No Food Or Drinks". I know!! Who knew...I made an easy trip to the spacious waiting room, found a comfy seat next to a window and pulled out my phone. My phone that now has Internet! (Thanks, sweetie).

You see, I need Internet on my phone not only for my Facebook addiction, but also because I lose work if I am not constantly checking my email. This is why I'm always "liking" your status on Facebook. No, I don't feel good about it. But, it's what I do in between each job submission. There I am, every two minutes, primed and ready to submit my body to depict corpses and pedestrians on TV. Extra work is one of my day jobs. And I don't care admitting it!

Because I'm in the union and there's financial crises, most of the principle work (on this site) goes to non-union folks. And when I say "most" I mean to say: There is one union job to every 100 non-union jobs.

There's a police officer in the room who practically has his feet up on the desk and his Queens accent is so entirely thick I'm assuming he's putting it on to sound legit. (Forgive me as I go in and out of present tense here). He tells us we're "the most depressed-looking group of jurors" he's "EVER seen".

"The vending machine is also privately-owned so if you want your party mix don't squawk at me".

They played this movie about how important it is to be a juror, but the volume was so low and it was continually interrupted with speeches that I never had the pleasure to watch it. Which is too bad, because it was constantly referenced to me throughout the day by persons of authority and I'd have to just blink until the persons of authority latched onto another topic.

Then "Jurassic Park" comes on. Bleating lambs and child abuse. Not a good sign.

******************************************************
After lunch, (I've now been here six hours but I'm soooooo used to waiting like this it seems like nuttin'), the police officer is continuing to call up names for jury selection. "Chin Lee!" No answer. "Chin Lee! Chin Lee!". He takes a break, comes back to the name a few minutes later.

Finally, one astute New Yorker with a beautiful accent (a contractor, I find out) points to a gentleman fast asleep in the fourth row back. "Hey maybe THAT'S him!" Everyone perks up. "Yeah! Wake him up!" Mr. Contractor gives him an elbow and the gentleman immediately recovers, claiming the name as his own, all which inspires an applause of unity from us unused jurors in the room.

Boy, I reeeeeally need to stop pretending to sound like a writer and get this show on the road. Writing is so damn exhausting. It takes a paragraph to describe a second.

A similar event happens about an hour later (the movie now playing is "Father of the Bride II") when the popo calls out the name of a famous pop star. (I consider him "pop", at any rate). I won't tell you who it is but he once dated an actress whose name rhymes with Zennifer Zanderson. So, the cop's calling and calling the name, every one's excited, no one's answering. Finally, some unimpressive "dude" crawls out from the back of the room where the wild things are (and couches) and makes his way to the door. He is younger than I am, but has fully adopted the grunge look of 1993 which is said to be in fashion again.

Poor guy.

Then, my name is called.

******************************************************

So, after an hour of jury selection, we're sent back home and told to return at 10:30 am. Yes! I can sleep past 7:30....I can sleep to practically 9! (Which I will).

I'm losing money for being here but I'm fully resigned to't. I've come to peace with the fact that I may be selected to be on the jury; in which case, I will return next week for two or three days. But, this means I don't have to serve again for another six years, right? And since I am sort of in a position right now to do something like this....well, I kind of want to be on the jury and learn something about HOW LAW WORKS.

Today begins with them sending three people away and keeping three people for the jury. They bring up three newbies to question and so-on-and-so-forth. Needless to say, by the time they get to me (I was second-to-last), they are being less-thorough.

Three funny things happened today:

1) Famous singer namesake is called up to be questioned. When asked "So, you grew up in *City?" The guys says (insert teenagey attitude here): "Noooo?!"

When asked if he had injured himself as a kid, he asks for the question to be repeated, then recounts the time he was playing football and a strange thing happened to his right hand "cuz it got really cold? And - like - my hand just started to form these deep cracks. It was really dry. And, I don't know, I mean, it may happen this year, too. I mean, who knows. I may have a really chapped hand in the cold". The girl next to me is not holding back her giggles. She's gleeful about it. Finally, when asked if he could be objective about this case, he says "no, I really think * is at fault, that's just the way it is". Well-played. The lawyers meet outside, and surprise! Mr (they say his name again), you're sent downstairs.

2) When commenting on Mr * and his youth (his "infancy"), blue-collar man with the beautiful dialect (who is also in my group) goes off on how he himself is 62 and death is right around the corner. He looks at the plaintiff's attorney (who looks like a pasty ball of something you shouldn't eat) and says "Hey man, you know what it's like, you're in your 60s, I mean, you know."

Lawyer:
"Well, I'm not quite there"

Blue-Collar:
"Good GOD!"

Girl next to me:
"hehehehehehe!"

Me:
(disguising a smirk)

Lawyer:
"But there is a Popeye's Chicken around the corner."

And I still have no idea why he said that.

3) Hardly worthy of third place, a large beast of a man rises during interviews and leaves, saying "I need to use the bathroom". The attorneys look flummoxed, and the pasty one turns to his much more vigorous opponent and says "Should we?"

Vigorous one:
"Well, technically, we have to".

So, we waited 20 minutes for this guy to finish his business.

When he came back in, he wore a goofy smile and said "Sor-ry".

So, that's it. Oh! I was picked to be on the jury. So, Tuesday I report back at 11 am and I'll get this thing done. New experience.

If I look at my to-do list from last week, I did some of it. I interviewed at the posh sporting goods store, but they did not call me back and I saw them repost the position on Craigslist the next day. This wounded my self-esteem (that I am a yoga instructor and running enthusiast, with an MFA and held a managerial position at a financial printing firm, and I couldn't get a call-back for this job -- one that I sadly [because I have to say that, right? Even if I don't think it is?] kinda wanted). So, being picked as a juror redeemed this experience somewhat. Though I am not what YOU want based on your first-impressions, and am what YOU want based on first impressions.

Now, I feel all cozy and glad.

I worked, I hit an audition, went on a commercial go-see, saw a new hematologist (named Dr. Joe Poe Yoe: No joke!) on 110th and Amsterdam, saw a new Vascular Surgeon at St. Luke's and the ultra sound showed I HAVE NO MORE UEDVT! Though, I must be continually monitored because maybe I have hyper-coagulative blood.

The Russian gal who did my ultra sound: "You have clut (clot)?"

"I might"

"It's birth control pill."

"But, even in the arm? I was told it's usually in the leg."

"No, can happen anywhere" (you can pretend she said "No, don't worry about the cat, he does that from time-to-time" while shrugging her shoulders. Same effect). "I never go on birth control after working here. I see a girl - young girl - 21 - with one leg twice the size as other".

******************************************************

So.....what else did I do.....

This weekend I'm taking a day-trip to New Jersey with K. (he joined Zip Car), and I am assisting for the first time at Sonic Yoga. Plus a little short film audition. I have a bridal dress appointment on Monday and then something neat afterwards (I don't want to say what just yet). Jury duty. Try to write something for Project:Theatre! and meet on Tuesday (OUR BAR. This is a really cool event. Please contact me if you'd like to come in Feb). Continue to update industry folks. Drop off headshots/resumes at agent's. Pick a pastor or someone similar for the wedding. Add to the registry. Work a new Shakespearean monologue for Feb 8th. Try to memorize Ayckbourn piece but I don't know if I'll get it primed for the audition. Read "The Passage" for March 6th. And RUN. Run more! Yoga!

I got new running shoes. They're an investment. Hopefully my achilles/calf won't be so bugged now.

The Irish man at the bodega across the street with hair in his ears the length of asparagus tips is coughing up a lung and it's unsettling. This is my cue to go to bed.

But, never fear. I'm a fast typist. It didn't take me as long to write this as you might imagine.

What's been done, to do, on the "To-Do" in 2010 plus agent rant

2010-01-09T20:44:00.000-08:00

This year began with a 5-mile jog with K. to Astoria Park. This is a medium/long run for me right now. Ever since my plantar fascitis from February, I haven't gone past 7 miles. Not because I can't. The one thing really has nothing to do with the other. I look forward to longer runs to Central Park and back. Or through Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan. Like last year. Bridges. Bring me bridges.

Yoga, first week in 2010:
*Create a yoga resume, and submit that to a few postings.
*Draft a cover letter, of course.
*Talk with a counselor at the Actor's Work Program re: Group Fitness Instructors. She submits me, as do I, to equinox. Equinox responds and says they'll keep me posted. Out of my league at this point, but if there's one thing I know -- it's WHO YOU KNOW!
*Lululemon Athletica invites me to a meeting on Tuesday morning (with other people). I have NO idea what kind of interview this is -- what to expect. Will go.
*I will be starting my assistantship at Sonic Yoga in Manhattan starting next week.

This year, so far, in terms of acting:
*I get cast in a week-long reading at The Hudson Showcase Theatre for March. One Equity Week. Not in Florida! Yay!
*I meet with my agents.
*I go to an EPA for a new Off-Broadway show. I know the director. Some great things are said about me and my audition while I'm in the room, and it sorta makes my day.
*I perform with my fiance at "OUR BAR" with the wonderful Off-Off company, Project: Theatre!
*Having not heard back about any call-backs for the Off-Broadway show, I book a plane ticket to Memphis, TN for the annual UPTA (Unified Professional Auditions) in February. I have already paid for my slot, just hadn't bought the ticket yet.
*Right after this, I get called back for the Off-Broadway show!...I spend all night and morning preparing the sides. I am trying out this new thing called "confidence". It quickly leaves my being when they give me different sides and rush me in and out of the room. No need to cancel the trip to Memphis. Which is too bad, cuz I had cancellation insurance.

This year, I saw a new GP: Now my new GP. She can test my INR levels in the office, and has already given me two referrals for a Vascular Surgeon (for another UltraSound, I wanna check on what up with that clot, yo) as well as a hemotologist (talk blood thinners, hormones, what to do when bebe-time comes?). She says "here in NY, we do extensive testing". I feel like I'm in good hands.

I went to a wonderful holiday party hosted by my catering company, Cleaver.

For the wedding, we sent out "Save the Date" cards yesterday. We created a website, and we are beginning our registry. We have musicians for the ceremony and reception. And of course, the chapel and Inn have been reserved for the big day.

I also am on stand-by jury duty right now, and will be all next week.

Next week, I need to:
*Do extra work on Monday.
*Lululemon mtg Tuesday.
*Hit all the EPAs I can.
*Get a different headshot touched up for my agent, print 50 with new resumes.
*Pick out a pastor, or someone who can marry us.
*Send out updates to industry folks.
*Begin yoga assistantship.
*Add items to registry.
*Jury duty.
*Werk whenever werk callz.

On Agentz:

agents.

agents.......Oh man. I just.

I freelanced with an agent my first year here (2006). After my audition, he told me "You are the best thing I've seen in a long time", and yadayadayada. I even sang for him. It was a great time. He wasn't a big agency or anything, he was boutique -- and an older actress had talked me up to him. However, he had "JUST" signed a bunch of young women who looked just like me. So, I'd have to freelance with him. OK, I said.

He got me two auditions in half-a-year; which, I've come to find out, is sort of normal for someone like me. (Like me = a semi-attractice non-musical theatre actress with an MFA not from NYU who can play young/old/ugly/pretty/dim/sharp/fat/thin. They don't know what to do with me). When I wrote to tell him I had gotten cast in a show myself, he wrote me back explaining he thought I "had moved on". And why? Because he had run into his ex-partner who had said I had sent her a postcard. Yes, I was sending postcards to agents. Because I was only freelancing with dude. And this particular agent (to whom I had sent a singular postcard) I had met before dude.

Why they were talking about me? I have NO idea.

But, after that, I had no agent for another year and-a-half. I freelanced with a major agency, commercially. But they dropped me when I kept working out-of-town.
And then lots of really boring things happened with agents.....One said I had "The worst personality" he'd "ever seen", another said I could "so easily be plain", and then another (with whom I was freelancing last year) yelled into my ear on the phone: "YOU are TOO OLD to be shy".

My meeting with this agent was a catch-up thing. I dropped by, I listened to her talk about why she couldn't send me out for certain things. I understand, I do.

It's my responsibility to be seen by more people. They are not really in a position to help me, so I gather, so I need to just get work for myself. Maybe they'll get me an audition now and then. But I need to be seen.

How are you seen by Casting Directors when you don't have an agent? You have to pay $30 a pop. OK. I can do some of that.

But let me be clear: I HAVE NO MONEY.

I dropped off a substantial check for the agency, for work I had gotten myself: But that's part of the game. Now I feel ok asking them to submit me for things that are right for me.

Who knows what will happen? It's a learning process. I'm making the best decisions I can.

Despite all this, I feel optimistic. Believe me?

Beaulah

2010-01-05T01:30:00.000-08:00

Beaulah is rushed into the hospital room while I’m in the bathroom. It’s my second day in the hospital and I was told my semi-private room would probably be relinquished by the time I would be giving myself a spongebath. They’ve forgotten to undo my heart moniters: I’ve never had heart moniters on before, and I don’t exactly know how it’s possible to shower with the six chords connected to a heavy box in a “pocket” of my gown (which isn’t a pocket at all; it’s an opening just narrow enough to house such a box. But if I pivot too briskly or shift to one side, you might be able to catch a glimpse of my nipple. This disarms me).

I give myself a sponge bath. Oh, there’s also an IV I’ve wheeled in here.

I hear the commotion. Beaulah has arrived. Is she Spanish? She’s speaking in gasps. There are no words, just exhalations of sound and intention. Is she a mental case? Is she dying? Everyone in here is dying.

But, everyone there is dying, too.

I catch a glimpse of Bea in her bed. She is late middle-aged, overweight, and has a paunchy face. She looks decidedly American, even though her gibberish has not yet confirmed this. I think one of the nurses close the curtain and I’m thrilled – absolutely thrilled – at the immediate privacy this gives me. This half of the semi-private now becomes my room.

Bea will stay with me for the next four days.

******************************************

About 11:00 my fiancé arrives with healthy snacks from Wal*Mart; he brings my parents. Lucky, as always, my man was flying down this morning anyway to see me in a show. (A show that’s just going into tech and previews…now with an understudy). My parents were across the state visiting family and awaiting their turn to see me, though when they got the call I was hospitalized, they jumped in their car. I’m indebted, as always, to kindness of loved ones.

The breakfast of shiny, liquified cheese in an egg mold and what I fondly call “cheese mound” has just been taken away by “Eric”. It also came with a finger-lickin’ good biscuit and two strips of bacon. Just what the body needs to recover. Needless to say, the Trail Mix my family bought me is as good as Christmas.

My insurance lapsed nearly a month ago. I didn’t sign up for Cobra because I couldn’t afford it. Probably because I spend too much money on Trail Mix. Those bills can mount up. Especially when your apartment is 4x your salary. Ken spends approximately an eighth of his visiting hours on the first two days on the phone with Equity-League Pension and Health, seeing if I can get on board with Cobra before the grace period ends. I had tried earlier, and got a dud on the phone. When I told her what happened to me she said “Oh no! That’s terrible!” Very comforting, lady.

And then Beaulah’s family enters, one-by-one: A woman enters, with a face of determination a la Mother Courage, cane in hand. She wears her hair in the classic mullet tradition, nothing remarkable: A recognizable emblem of heritage. Her voice is that of a child’s -- comforting, at times. This is Bea’s daughter-in-law, who’s led a hard life (I’m guessing). Her motto: They can’t make you do nothing you don’t want to do.

Bea’s blood pressure, which was 240-over-I can’t-remember (when they wheeled her in), is now reduced quite a bit so that I can tell her accent is Southern, I find out.

*Though not Southern like my Southern, she’s from Missouri. Though, not the same part of Missouri my beaux is from. He’s from the Midwest.*

Waiting for her blood pressure to lower even more before they can perform Gall Bladder Surgery on her. The worst part about the situation is her portable toilet right next to my bed.

Accompanying the D-I-L of Bea is Bea’s three grandchildren and her husband: The man of few words. The grandson only stops by on two occasions, he is very slow. The girls come every day and night with their mama. The brunette granddaughter has a penchant for loitering in the lounge area. The daughter-in-law threatens to pop her if she doesn’t get off the computer. Why on earth does she want her off the computer, I think. Isn’t the computer a learning tool?

*****************************************

When I’m finally able to walk around the halls and visit the lounge, my family and I turn on Skype and call my bro. (The saving grace of this hospital is the wi-fi access. No, there is no Facebook – but I have my laptop! I have Hulu! I have email! I have earphones!) The brunette invites herself to our table, facing us as we face the computer. It is mighty distracting. When K. realizes maybe she is unable to deal with the fact that there is not a chair immediately in front of the neighboring computer, he wheels over a chair and without a hitch she signs onto America’s Most Wanted to search the database.

The other granddaughter is mentally handicapped. She is a very large girl and repeats three phrases over and over during the next four days: “I love you” “I pray you” “I miss you”, to which Bea replies “I love you too now shut-up”. Sometimes, Bea and D-I-L send the girl away to draw, and then ask if brunette has been on the computer when the girl returns. She returns every two minutes to tell Bea “I love you, I miss you, I pray you”.

*************************************************

During one jolly visit from some colleagues of mine, the girl’s voice cuts through the masses’, rings out: “are they going to cut your finger off grandma?!”

Not much interaction between my family and theirs. I’m sure they are annoyed as hell of K. talking about Jon Stewart and NPR and CNN: We share the same oxygen, we can hear every word.

Does she have surgery? Yes. They meet her with a “wheely bed” on the third day. The nurse invites Bea to the bed. “Beaulah, your chariot awaits.” And the D-I-L clearly doesn’t know what a chariot is, doesn’t find the phrase familiar. “What’s that?”

Upon their leaving, the nurse sprays Febreeze in the room and imparts to me that they aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed. Bea returns a few hours later and spends the next few hours sound asleep. Visitors return the next day. Visitors leave. A doctor comes in to talk to Bea. Sort of always happens right when the family leaves. Which infuriates the family – and me(in my safe little bed, a captive audience). THEY know more about her condition than BEA does! Only Bea and I know the truth: The doctors must be crouching somewhere nearby in invisibility suits, waiting for the family to leave. Because every time the family leaves, a specialist enters not five minutes later, asking her all the important questions -- questions to which she does not know the answer! She is not properly primed. She is Sarah Palin when faced with Katie Couric.

*****************************************

On the final day, after stabbing myself in the stomach with some drugs (I feel very brave saying that) I’m given the go-ahead to GO HOME! Bea’s family is also determined to get their matriarch home. Even though the doctors say they need to monitor her kidneys. The fam bridles at being told what to do. And maybe not without reason: I could have gone home earlier (according to K’s dad, who is an internist and a blood-clot specialist). Hospitals don’t want to be sued. Hospitals want to be paid. But kidney failure??? I dunno….scary stuff. Especially when you don’t have a specialist in the family.

The man of few words speaks from behind the curtain. Lovingly, to his wife: “It would be good……if….they let you….go home”.

Jackson Hole

2010-01-01T19:23:00.001-08:00

Back in NYC. Afraid.

Just a few days ago, I was here:

That's the Grand Tetons.
That's my family. The only one missing is my big brother. I'll call him B.
He and his lovely had some scheduling conflicts.
They were missed sorely.
But we'll hopefully all be together on May 15th her e.
When I get married. Which still seems kind of odd.
I've never gotten married before.
And we are not totally conventional so I wasn't expecting to get married.
Though I desperately wanted to.
But, I'm getting ahead of myself here.

That's my Dad, Yeti. Here he is again, to the right, closer-up:
He found that fur coat in the closet.
It's not his. He doesn't own any fur. But it sure kept him warm.
At 5 degrees Fahrenheit, he was sweating.
He's 68, and in alright shape.
I've been known to teach him yoga whenever visits allow.

Though he did fall and he heard his knee pop while snow shoeing.
The next day, it was fine.
Which is surprising, because that same knee's ligament was torn way back when.

On Christmas day, my mom's favorite day of the year,
she found out she's afraid of these:

The horses at the caretaker's house.
I think that's a big pile of poo they're standing on.
Our horses were allowed to romp around free.
And mingle with the wild elk.
Which we never did see.
Oooh! That rhymed!

They encircled my Mum. Then, they farted on her.

Isn't this photo beautiful (thanks to my cameraman)? This was the view as we flew into Jackson.

The first day we got groceries.
We drank a "White Christmas", concocted by my brother's in-laws. It was mighty tasty but went straight to my head.

The next day I woke up with a killer sore throat.
The temp was -5. I didn't feel that cold because it was so D-R-Y. The sore throat would linger on till...well, I still have it :)

We exchanged no presents on this Christmas.
Just hiked in the snow,
did yoga with the kitty (and taught my bro, Jo, a class!),
and talked to the family.

Oh! There was a kitty there.
His name is Denver, and he stole my heart.
I am a dog person but have a soft spot for chunky, grey cats.
We walked in and saw him on a little pink bed.
The rich relatives had gotten him to hunt mice a while back.
They haven't seen him in a year-and-a-half, only the caretaker sees him.
Poor fat li'l pumpkin head.

I miss my family already.
Used to be around them every day.
Now around my brothers once a year,
my folks more often than that.
But I love them so much my heart hurts.

Back in the city, I'm cranking up the career machine.
Getting back to business.
Passing out cards.
Trying to get a job.
Cleaning out the fridge.
Sorting out my health insurance.
Trying to find a good GP.

Trying to get cast.

...I'd be happy living in Wyoming.

Once I'm back in NYC, all I can think about is work or lack thereof.

Constantly striving to make this my home.

No photos to go along with this little rant.

But I certainly love my apartment in Queens with my beloved.
We've created quite a nice little home for ourselves here. The apartment is what we have carved out for ourselves here.

Blue Moon

2010-01-01T18:58:00.000-08:00

So last night was a blue moon.

But before I discuss New Year's I need to discuss my recent trip to Wyoming. My fiance and I went to my rich relations' ranch in Jackson Hole -- the owners haven't been out there in a year and a half, and the last time my family was out there was when my mum was preggers with me. That was - ahem - 28 years ago.

Suffice it to say, it was special.

Flying though, was another story. K and I arrived at JFK an hour early but when we got the kiosk, we were two minutes late to check our guitar. I fondly call his Martin "my" guitar, because it's the one I play and travel with. He has a way cool guitar at home that once belonged to Linda Perry from this band. It's too cool to travel with. But "my" guitar was too late to be checked.

I guess we should have arrived earlier for our Christmas Eve flight out of JFK.

The guitar did not make our connection in Salt Lake, though we did. So did my parents, my brother, and my sister-in-law.

After arriving in Jackson, we waiting half-an-hour or so for "my" guitar. We got it. We played with it during our vacay.

But....

***Flying out on the 30th......we lost "my" guitar. It was sent to Detroit, and they still have not found it. Jackson Hole airport employees.....you guys need to watch your butterfingers.***

Back in NYC

2009-12-22T20:10:00.000-08:00

I’ve really missed K’s cooking. After being gone for 2.5 months, it’s altogether pretty delightful to be handed a bowl of tri-colored, pesto pasta (chicken, broccoli, mushrooms).

We enjoy the farmer’s market. Enjoy cooking healthily. I convinced him to buy hormone-free chicken at the Supermarket. This is not something he’s wont to do, as he’s a skeptic (like this guy here, see entry from 8/11 on Organic vs Conventional Agriculture). We’ve had discussions about it, have both agreed that local is preferable. Tastes better. Supports the little guys. Still, I took notes when I saw “Food, Inc” and came home armed and ready. I was reading Dr. Weil’s books as a wee lass in high school. I’m also a lover of acupuncture, fascinated with Ayurveda. I’m a yogi. His background? His father is a prominent physician. And K. is armed with a razor-sharp ability to debate.

I was recently sent to the emergency room and hospitalized while doing a stint in Florida – for a blood clot just under my clavicle. Major illnesses were ruled out and the staff was perplexed as to why this should happen to me: I am an avid runner, eat well, don’t smoke, hardly drink, I’m young. I’ll blog about my UEDVT more in the near-future, I’m sure. It might be helpful for people searching for causes for their own unexplained DVT (we think the culprit maybe have been Desogen, birth control pills, but we don’t know!!!). But it’s something Eastern medicine probably wouldn’t have been able to fix in time — this emergency situation? Slowing of blood to the brain? Eliminating a risk of stroke?

I like Eastern medicine because it looks at the root of the issue and serves as prevention, without complicating matters with a bunch of other pills.

I had already complicated matters because I was taking Desogen. And I’ll be on blood thinners for a few more months as my blood clot *hopefully* dissolves.

FYI, Other possible causes for the UEDVT is this (which my GP in Ft. Myers ruled out with a glance) and this.

At any rate, one more day in NYC in this snow and then I head to Jackson Hole with my fiance, K . (How much exposition do you need to include in your early blogs? This reminds me of a “This American Life” episode where two girls meet and realize they want to be best friends, so they record stories of their formative years on tapes, exchange them. How much shorthand can I use here?). Also there will be my brother – whom I haven’t seen in a year -, his wife, her family, and my parents. Most of us managed to get on the same flight from Salt Lake City to Jackson Hole, WY…and managed to sit together as well. We’ll see if that actually happens

There will be no internet out there, nor will there be cell phone reception. Wild elk come up to feed with the horses. This: For five days. I can’t wait. (Really).

I was going to write more about my hopes and dreams, my artistic appointments and plans, but K. is playing the guitar loudly, summoning me for a walk in Astoria Park here in Queens, NY. We will look at the lights on the Greek homes and and breathe in the pineappley-scented smoke of the hookah bars on Steinway Street.

“Chekhov is obsessed with ladies’ racks”.

On Hospitals, Holidays, and Hamming it up…

2009-12-22T20:00:00.000-08:00

“You’re a fridge putter backer”, says K.

“I would never put the coffee back in the fridge!”, say I.

“Are you going to blog about how you’re not a fridge putter backer?”, says K.

“Yes!”, say I.

“So your first blog is going to be a lie?”, says K.

***************************************************

This brings to mind “The English Patient” when Kristen Scott Thomas says to Ralph Fiennes: “Am I K. in your book?”

Oh, “The English Patient” is a book, too? Hmmm…Should read it. But, I’m too busy not reading this. Wonderful book. Just have been side-tracked with hospitals, holidays, and hamming it up onstage in Florida.

It’s daunting to think of what damage I can do with a blank, white space. Had a blog back when people walked 5-miles a day to school in the show with clubbed feet, you know – when Friendster was the omg for social networking sites. But I ended up blogging about farts and gerbils. I’d like to make a vow that I will only employ the side of myself that is professional and elegant; but though my will be strong, it doesn’t realize the importance of eradicating my very nature. It (will) will, however, not make this a place for you to bottleneck…I mean, rubberneck. The guideline I lay out for myself, and heartfelt promise I make to you is that this will not be a “carwreck” blog. Not overly personal. I promise to always edit and tie up with ribbons in a cute, li’l package.

Who cares – it’s just a blog. Only a couple people will ever read it. And I’ve chosen a pen name (a made-up name from my childhood) because I don’t want this searchable in connection with myself, though I have linked it to Facebook. According to wikipedia, my blog will be like many others who “function as more personal online diaries. A typical blog combines text, images, and links to other blogs, Web pages, and other media related to its topic.” It will not be a genre blog, or a vlog for that matter. It will be highly unoriginal. But I just want to carve myself out a little home where friends and family can read up on me and conversations can ensue.