Oh, and my aunt's in Haiti. She's a nurse. Currently fixing broken people. So there's that to think/pray/worry about, too.
My aunt and uncle go to Haiti every year on a mission trip, so she knows the country well and is able to travel around with people she already knows. Fortunately her updates are regular and the country is not the seething cesspool of violence CNN makes it out to be. Most people are helpful and courteous and do not fight each other while waiting in line for clean water. But there is too little food, clean water and medical attention to go around. The water runs grey with filth and the air is thick with the smell of rotting bodies. Wounds are beginning to fester because they've been untended for so long. I hope she's able to fix some people, and get home safely. And I think I'm going to go update my earthquake insurance.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Deep thoughts on a Friday
A very dear friend of mine has a two-year-old who's just had a brain tumor removed. They're waiting for biopsy results. I'm praying to every god I can think of.
Which makes me want to be all responsible and stuff and file a will and an advanced health care directive. Which makes me think I should get a life insurance policy, and maybe some supplemental long term care insurance, and I really hope nothing happens to me between now and the wedding because I still have no health insurance. And I really, really hope my soon-to-be-stepson will learn how to enjoy food that doesn't come out of a fast-food wrapper so that he can avoid overuse of said health insurance.
This thing with Pockets, and now this cancer scare, makes me want to round up all the people I care about and give them a really big, long hug.
Which makes me want to be all responsible and stuff and file a will and an advanced health care directive. Which makes me think I should get a life insurance policy, and maybe some supplemental long term care insurance, and I really hope nothing happens to me between now and the wedding because I still have no health insurance. And I really, really hope my soon-to-be-stepson will learn how to enjoy food that doesn't come out of a fast-food wrapper so that he can avoid overuse of said health insurance.
This thing with Pockets, and now this cancer scare, makes me want to round up all the people I care about and give them a really big, long hug.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Pockets update
I sent a wedding invitation to Pockets, with a note. In it, I asked her forgiveness. I told her I missed her, that I couldn’t imagine my wedding day without her, that I hoped she wouldn’t sacrifice thirty years of friendship over this.
Her Facebook status later proclaimed me to be "selfish," "without respect or boundaries," and "stupid."
So, lessons learned. I don't think I can say or do anything else at this point to win her back. Maybe I just have to chalk this up as the cosmic price I have to pay for love and happiness. Maybe my mother was right about her all along. Maybe I should have listened to my brother all those years ago when she blew up on him in a similar fashion. Well, anyway. Net loss: one best friend. Net gain: a husband, a son, and some pretty super rockin' in-laws. There's no real contest, of course. But. Damn. I miss her.
Her Facebook status later proclaimed me to be "selfish," "without respect or boundaries," and "stupid."
So, lessons learned. I don't think I can say or do anything else at this point to win her back. Maybe I just have to chalk this up as the cosmic price I have to pay for love and happiness. Maybe my mother was right about her all along. Maybe I should have listened to my brother all those years ago when she blew up on him in a similar fashion. Well, anyway. Net loss: one best friend. Net gain: a husband, a son, and some pretty super rockin' in-laws. There's no real contest, of course. But. Damn. I miss her.
Back to the shoes
I've officially contracted my friend Kirsten Boehmer to do the photography at the wedding. I'm really excited! Look for her patented Party Booth there. Oh, yes.
I sent the invitations and I'm starting to get a trickle of RSVPs. I also tried--I really, really did--to find a more affordable shoe alternative. I bought them and returned them in a fit of fiscal responsibility, spent days trolling the internet for something else that I liked as much, and finally gave up. Seeing as how I may get to be a full-time (step)mommy later this year, this will officially be my last extravagent shoe purchase and my goodbye to my freewheeling and well-shod single life. I plan to get a portrait of just the shoes. Take note, Kirsten.
I sent the invitations and I'm starting to get a trickle of RSVPs. I also tried--I really, really did--to find a more affordable shoe alternative. I bought them and returned them in a fit of fiscal responsibility, spent days trolling the internet for something else that I liked as much, and finally gave up. Seeing as how I may get to be a full-time (step)mommy later this year, this will officially be my last extravagent shoe purchase and my goodbye to my freewheeling and well-shod single life. I plan to get a portrait of just the shoes. Take note, Kirsten.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Theatre review: Whisper House, or, A Critic Goes Bicoastal
Almost five months ago, I moved myself from New York to San Diego. During my decade in New York, I saw (and reviewed) thousands of plays. In my heyday I was reviewing three or four plays a week, and that’s not counting the ones I saw that I wasn’t reviewing. Since moving to San Diego, I’ve seen one--Noah Haidle’s Saturn Returns at South Coast Rep in Costa Mesa.
Last night I went to my first play in San Diego; Duncan Sheik’s Whisper House at the Old Globe. Yes, that Duncan Sheik, of Spring Awakening fame. It was disconcerting to say the least, watching off-Broadway theatre so far off-Broadway.
In New York, I saw all manner of plays and playhouses. I saw shows on Broadway and at BAM, packed to the gills; I sat in leaky basements in the East Village where I was one of three audience members. I’ve seen plays in cars (yes, in cars), in churches, in the subway, in apartments, in parks, in the street, and in innumerable basements. More often than not, I was watching theatre in a repurposed space--I saw plays in an actual theatre maybe 35% of the time. I’ve sat on folding chairs, backless benches, church pews, boxes, floor mats, and the grass. Comfortable seating was a luxury, as was a coat check. Occasionally there was a folding table set up where I could purchase $6 beer or box wine.
Now, I didn’t always live in New York. I’ve seen plenty of community and regional theatre, so it’s not like the concept of free parking at the theatre is completely unheard-of. But it is very unfamiliar. The Old Globe has free parking. Lots of it. And a valet. More importantly, I drove to the theatre; no subway required. (I’ve missed plays because of subway delays and snafus. No worrying about that here!) The Old Globe also has a year-round outdoor pub. Let me just restate that--year-round. Outdoors. Their theatres have cushy seats, and wide aisles. My knees didn’t automatically hit the back of the seat in front of me for the first time in--well, nearly a decade. Best of all, I didn’t have to swing back out into the aisle and perform a couple of advanced yoga moves in order to cross my legs.
The last play I saw in New York was Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, at the Public, an incredibly subversive and hilarious musical. The theatre (the Public’s black box space) was about the size of three corner offices. Not one audience member was over 40, and there couldn’t have been seating for more than 50 people, tops. The play started at 10 PM. I sat in a folding chair, with my coat on my lap. I took the subway there, and back again to Brooklyn. If I remember correctly, it was about 45 degrees outside.
Fast forward several months to San Diego. Whisper House is also a subversive musical, by a guy who made his name in New York. The Old Globe was enormous, and beautiful, and seated 600. I drove there, and parked for free. It was 70 degrees outside; despite that, there was a coat check. My seat had a cushion, and ample leg room. Granted, when I saw Spring Awakening on Broadway, the weather was lovely and I had a coat check and a cushy seat then, too. Duncan Sheik plays well on both coasts, it seems. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
It helped that I was viewing a familiar name; musicals have never been my forte, but Spring Awakening is one of the few that I actually like. Duncan Sheik is becoming a force to be reckoned with, I think; while this show is stylistically very different from Spring Awakening, Sheik still shows his characteristic musical insouciance.
While fellow reviewer Evan Henerson wasn’t thrilled with Whisper House, (see his review here) I thought it was perfect for my own personal reentry into the theatre world. I agree with much of his review--the book was pretty thin--but atmospherically, I felt the evening was exceptional. The play’s soundtrack was very nearly a cross between The Killers and a moody James Bond theme song; the lighting and fog usage were eerie and mournful without being overwrought; the acting was excellent; the set was architecturally interesting; and the audience was happily mixed, both old and young alike. And the piece was, for good or ill, recognizably Duncan Sheik.
Last night I went to my first play in San Diego; Duncan Sheik’s Whisper House at the Old Globe. Yes, that Duncan Sheik, of Spring Awakening fame. It was disconcerting to say the least, watching off-Broadway theatre so far off-Broadway.
In New York, I saw all manner of plays and playhouses. I saw shows on Broadway and at BAM, packed to the gills; I sat in leaky basements in the East Village where I was one of three audience members. I’ve seen plays in cars (yes, in cars), in churches, in the subway, in apartments, in parks, in the street, and in innumerable basements. More often than not, I was watching theatre in a repurposed space--I saw plays in an actual theatre maybe 35% of the time. I’ve sat on folding chairs, backless benches, church pews, boxes, floor mats, and the grass. Comfortable seating was a luxury, as was a coat check. Occasionally there was a folding table set up where I could purchase $6 beer or box wine.
Now, I didn’t always live in New York. I’ve seen plenty of community and regional theatre, so it’s not like the concept of free parking at the theatre is completely unheard-of. But it is very unfamiliar. The Old Globe has free parking. Lots of it. And a valet. More importantly, I drove to the theatre; no subway required. (I’ve missed plays because of subway delays and snafus. No worrying about that here!) The Old Globe also has a year-round outdoor pub. Let me just restate that--year-round. Outdoors. Their theatres have cushy seats, and wide aisles. My knees didn’t automatically hit the back of the seat in front of me for the first time in--well, nearly a decade. Best of all, I didn’t have to swing back out into the aisle and perform a couple of advanced yoga moves in order to cross my legs.
The last play I saw in New York was Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson, at the Public, an incredibly subversive and hilarious musical. The theatre (the Public’s black box space) was about the size of three corner offices. Not one audience member was over 40, and there couldn’t have been seating for more than 50 people, tops. The play started at 10 PM. I sat in a folding chair, with my coat on my lap. I took the subway there, and back again to Brooklyn. If I remember correctly, it was about 45 degrees outside.
Fast forward several months to San Diego. Whisper House is also a subversive musical, by a guy who made his name in New York. The Old Globe was enormous, and beautiful, and seated 600. I drove there, and parked for free. It was 70 degrees outside; despite that, there was a coat check. My seat had a cushion, and ample leg room. Granted, when I saw Spring Awakening on Broadway, the weather was lovely and I had a coat check and a cushy seat then, too. Duncan Sheik plays well on both coasts, it seems. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
It helped that I was viewing a familiar name; musicals have never been my forte, but Spring Awakening is one of the few that I actually like. Duncan Sheik is becoming a force to be reckoned with, I think; while this show is stylistically very different from Spring Awakening, Sheik still shows his characteristic musical insouciance.
While fellow reviewer Evan Henerson wasn’t thrilled with Whisper House, (see his review here) I thought it was perfect for my own personal reentry into the theatre world. I agree with much of his review--the book was pretty thin--but atmospherically, I felt the evening was exceptional. The play’s soundtrack was very nearly a cross between The Killers and a moody James Bond theme song; the lighting and fog usage were eerie and mournful without being overwrought; the acting was excellent; the set was architecturally interesting; and the audience was happily mixed, both old and young alike. And the piece was, for good or ill, recognizably Duncan Sheik.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Wedding flashbacks
I spent the holiday weekend running errands, as this was the first instance in recorded history in which I actually got MLK Day off. Much of it was food-related: checking out butcher shops and cheese shops and trying to find raw milk and whatnot, and then turning all of that into yummy things to eat. But item number one was getting the wedding invitations printed and put together.
Aside: they look great, and since it's a small wedding, the stuffing and addressing took about 15 minutes. But I had multiple flashbacks to my first so-called wedding (or rather, the wedding that wasn't) during this process.
The first time I dealt with wedding invitations, and wedding planning in general, my overriding emotion was...well, nothing. I kept thinking, "I should be excited about this. I should feel something," which, of course, eventually escalated into full-fledged dread and then panic. Mostly I just felt like I should want this, because everyone else around me did. This time, however, I am actually excited. And there's also a healthy undercurrent of curiosity. I want to get married because I'm in love and I want to spend the rest of my life with him, of course, and I'm also curious about what's on the other side. I know what single life is like. Intimately. We're good there, thanks. Now it's time to embark on yet another great adventure--married life.
I also finished a very rough first draft of the book about the road trip. Rough being the operative word, but I'm feeling all kinds of productive these days.
Aside: they look great, and since it's a small wedding, the stuffing and addressing took about 15 minutes. But I had multiple flashbacks to my first so-called wedding (or rather, the wedding that wasn't) during this process.
The first time I dealt with wedding invitations, and wedding planning in general, my overriding emotion was...well, nothing. I kept thinking, "I should be excited about this. I should feel something," which, of course, eventually escalated into full-fledged dread and then panic. Mostly I just felt like I should want this, because everyone else around me did. This time, however, I am actually excited. And there's also a healthy undercurrent of curiosity. I want to get married because I'm in love and I want to spend the rest of my life with him, of course, and I'm also curious about what's on the other side. I know what single life is like. Intimately. We're good there, thanks. Now it's time to embark on yet another great adventure--married life.
I also finished a very rough first draft of the book about the road trip. Rough being the operative word, but I'm feeling all kinds of productive these days.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Shoes!
I found the perfect shoes to go with my wedding dress. What is the dress, you ask? My mom is making it--it's the most basic dress imaginable, just an ivory strapless knee-length sheath. The shoes, though...oh, the shoes. Ruby satin Stuart Weitzman 4-in heels, open toe, with a sparkly bow thing at the toe. I think I want to marry the shoes, as well. The problem is that they're $400. I think I'll have to make do with something I already have, as the essentially nonexistent wedding budget does not cover $400 shoes. I'll end up kicking them off after an hour, anyway, and running around the house barefoot. Le sigh, le moving on.
Wedding plans progress apace...I've got the invitations and program designed, menus roughed out, and outfits planned. At some point between now and then we may have to move into a new apartment--the current one is deeply unsatisfactory on a number of levels. Yet another big thing to plan! Woo. (Not.)
I took myself ring shopping yesterday. Don't get excited--you know I'm not down with traditional engagement rings, especially prong-set solitaires that will snag on my pockets and interfere with my cooking. But at the very least we'll both need bands. I went to a couple of jewelry stores in the nearest shopping center and looked at the various options, both for engagement rings and for wedding bands. It's completely overwhelming. Especially since the second shop was giving me the hard sell, pushing $30,000 three-carat behemoths on me. I wasn't tempted. I have an old ring, a cheap-ass piece of costume jewelry that looks like the $10 piece of tin that it is, but I've always loved it and always wanted to get it remade, you know, real. I'll take that to the shops and get a quote for getting that remade, so that I'll have just one statement ring for both engagement and marriage. Hopefully the budget will stretch to cover that, at least, if not $400 shoes.
Otherwise, spending a lot of time thinking about finances (household and wedding) and stepmothering. He's a great kid. And a picky eater. I realize most kids go through a picky eating phase, and I also realize that if/when I have kids, my luck will dictate that they're the pickiest eaters imaginable and I will want to kill myself on a daily basis. However. Me and picky eaters just do not get along. I've dumped boyfriends for refusing to eat things. Having a picky eater in my own household is particularly galling, especially when it is impossible to apply adult logic to the situation. Most reasonable adults will respond to "Are you sure? This is really good! I love it!" and give the dish at least a halfhearted attempt--for politeness, if nothing else. Try explaining to a child, any child, that refusing to eat something is rude and see how far that gets you. I foresee epic battles in my future. Le sigh. If you, dear readers, have any experience with this, please send me advice! I'm comforting myself this week with wild boar bacon, grass-fed flank steak, and several very lovely bunches of fresh chard. Oh, and a handmade batch of Chartreuse ice cream. As in the liqueur, not the color.
Wedding plans progress apace...I've got the invitations and program designed, menus roughed out, and outfits planned. At some point between now and then we may have to move into a new apartment--the current one is deeply unsatisfactory on a number of levels. Yet another big thing to plan! Woo. (Not.)
I took myself ring shopping yesterday. Don't get excited--you know I'm not down with traditional engagement rings, especially prong-set solitaires that will snag on my pockets and interfere with my cooking. But at the very least we'll both need bands. I went to a couple of jewelry stores in the nearest shopping center and looked at the various options, both for engagement rings and for wedding bands. It's completely overwhelming. Especially since the second shop was giving me the hard sell, pushing $30,000 three-carat behemoths on me. I wasn't tempted. I have an old ring, a cheap-ass piece of costume jewelry that looks like the $10 piece of tin that it is, but I've always loved it and always wanted to get it remade, you know, real. I'll take that to the shops and get a quote for getting that remade, so that I'll have just one statement ring for both engagement and marriage. Hopefully the budget will stretch to cover that, at least, if not $400 shoes.
Otherwise, spending a lot of time thinking about finances (household and wedding) and stepmothering. He's a great kid. And a picky eater. I realize most kids go through a picky eating phase, and I also realize that if/when I have kids, my luck will dictate that they're the pickiest eaters imaginable and I will want to kill myself on a daily basis. However. Me and picky eaters just do not get along. I've dumped boyfriends for refusing to eat things. Having a picky eater in my own household is particularly galling, especially when it is impossible to apply adult logic to the situation. Most reasonable adults will respond to "Are you sure? This is really good! I love it!" and give the dish at least a halfhearted attempt--for politeness, if nothing else. Try explaining to a child, any child, that refusing to eat something is rude and see how far that gets you. I foresee epic battles in my future. Le sigh. If you, dear readers, have any experience with this, please send me advice! I'm comforting myself this week with wild boar bacon, grass-fed flank steak, and several very lovely bunches of fresh chard. Oh, and a handmade batch of Chartreuse ice cream. As in the liqueur, not the color.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
It's been a productive couple of days
My brain hurts.
Found and booked a house, set a date, alerted nearest and dearest to save the date, picked out a dress, set up registries, and started umpteen billion checklists of things that need to be done between now and then.
But so many of my friends have already said they'll be there, and what can I do to help?, and it's been a long time coming, but we're so happy for you. All the warm fuzzies almost make up for the mushy brain.
Found and booked a house, set a date, alerted nearest and dearest to save the date, picked out a dress, set up registries, and started umpteen billion checklists of things that need to be done between now and then.
But so many of my friends have already said they'll be there, and what can I do to help?, and it's been a long time coming, but we're so happy for you. All the warm fuzzies almost make up for the mushy brain.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Whew
What a Christmas it's been.
To sum up: My sister is pregnant. John and I are engaged. We drove 5800 miles in two weeks, including a 39-hour marathon drive from Virginia to California. My brain is still trying to process all these various pieces of information, but I'm making progress. (Note: a 39-hour straight drive is not conducive to clear thinking. In fact, my brain was complete mush for most of that.)
I know you're all thinking, "Tell us about the ring!" No ring yet. The proposal was casual, spontaneous, and incredibly romantic. Best of all, it was on New Year's Eve, so I got to spend the day thinking about my new life with my sweetie. And I got to tell my family in person, which was very much appreciated (on both sides). I've spent so many years thinking of myself as permanently single and unmarriageable--it's a bit of a brain shift to think of myself as a wife and a stepmom, but I like it a lot better.
Now we get to pull together a low-key but fun wedding in five months, as my sister will be too pregnant to travel after May. We're renting a big house and throwing a week-long party for our nearest and dearest, to conclude with the actual ceremony and the big festivities. I love entertaining, especially on a grand scale, so I'm really excited about the idea of wining and dining my friends and relatives--complete with cheesy movies, drunken Twister, and a wedding, of course. As my uncle said, "You can do whatever you want. We gave up on you getting married a long time ago."
But, oh, so many things to think about. Finances, life insurance, retirement planning, car and house plans, kids, short and long term goals, not to mention all the standard wedding hoopla, not to mention having to readjust the way I think about myself and my future, not to mention processing the fact I'm going to be an auntie--my brain reboots itself every 15 minutes or so these days. That's not a complaint, mind you.
10 years ago, I was starting graduate school at Columbia. In 1999, I started a new relationship and ended a bad one, went to London and Paris, moved to Memphis, moved to New York, and started Columbia. In the intervening decade, I got my MFA, had three serious relationships (and a score of not-serious ones), went to Jamaica, Rome, and Buenos Aires all by myself, went to Aruba, Hawaii and half of Europe with other people, was a theatre critic in New York for most of those years, discovered and pursued several new passions (food, wine, German automobiles), started two blogs, drove across the country not once but a few times (and all in the last six months), and finally, met my husband and moved to California. What a ride it's been. I hope the next decade is just as eventful and meaningful, especially now that I have someone to share it with.
So, faithful blog readers: last year you got to read about my road trip adventures. This year you get to read about my wedding/marriage/auntie adventures. Hang on.
To sum up: My sister is pregnant. John and I are engaged. We drove 5800 miles in two weeks, including a 39-hour marathon drive from Virginia to California. My brain is still trying to process all these various pieces of information, but I'm making progress. (Note: a 39-hour straight drive is not conducive to clear thinking. In fact, my brain was complete mush for most of that.)
I know you're all thinking, "Tell us about the ring!" No ring yet. The proposal was casual, spontaneous, and incredibly romantic. Best of all, it was on New Year's Eve, so I got to spend the day thinking about my new life with my sweetie. And I got to tell my family in person, which was very much appreciated (on both sides). I've spent so many years thinking of myself as permanently single and unmarriageable--it's a bit of a brain shift to think of myself as a wife and a stepmom, but I like it a lot better.
Now we get to pull together a low-key but fun wedding in five months, as my sister will be too pregnant to travel after May. We're renting a big house and throwing a week-long party for our nearest and dearest, to conclude with the actual ceremony and the big festivities. I love entertaining, especially on a grand scale, so I'm really excited about the idea of wining and dining my friends and relatives--complete with cheesy movies, drunken Twister, and a wedding, of course. As my uncle said, "You can do whatever you want. We gave up on you getting married a long time ago."
But, oh, so many things to think about. Finances, life insurance, retirement planning, car and house plans, kids, short and long term goals, not to mention all the standard wedding hoopla, not to mention having to readjust the way I think about myself and my future, not to mention processing the fact I'm going to be an auntie--my brain reboots itself every 15 minutes or so these days. That's not a complaint, mind you.
10 years ago, I was starting graduate school at Columbia. In 1999, I started a new relationship and ended a bad one, went to London and Paris, moved to Memphis, moved to New York, and started Columbia. In the intervening decade, I got my MFA, had three serious relationships (and a score of not-serious ones), went to Jamaica, Rome, and Buenos Aires all by myself, went to Aruba, Hawaii and half of Europe with other people, was a theatre critic in New York for most of those years, discovered and pursued several new passions (food, wine, German automobiles), started two blogs, drove across the country not once but a few times (and all in the last six months), and finally, met my husband and moved to California. What a ride it's been. I hope the next decade is just as eventful and meaningful, especially now that I have someone to share it with.
So, faithful blog readers: last year you got to read about my road trip adventures. This year you get to read about my wedding/marriage/auntie adventures. Hang on.
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