March 27, 2012

-image-“i hope i get my raisins from fresno!”

We went to see Original Banshee in The Music Man on Saturday night. Now, last year, she was Gretl in The Sound of Music and this year she was a River City Kid — basically the chorus — and that was a bit hard for her, initially, going from a bigger part to a smaller part. Then again, that’s the nature of the game. You don’t always get the big part. There’s not always even a big part FOR you. There are really only 2 small non-chorus parts for little kids in The Music Man — one is for a little boy and one is for a girl, about 11 or 12 years old. Original Banshee is an 8-year-old girl. So wrong gender, wrong age. But what are you gonna do? You want to be in the show, you play the part they give you. That’s the way it works.

And she did, that girl. She played it to the bone. She did so well in rehearsals, the director ended up giving her a few extra lines, a few extra “bits,” and a tiny solo in “The Wells Fargo Wagon” — which she belted to the rafters — “I hope I get my raisins from Fresno!!!”

Which is clearly why she looks so manic here. She is hoping for her raisins from Fresno, pippa! No one could possibly be calm in the face of such anticipation!

She jumped up and belted out that solo and the audience laughed and laughed, I think because she’s just so little and just so LOUD.

We did catch her, once, scanning the audience, looking for us it turns out. (I mean, she is only 8, after all.) But that one glance was all it took. She went backstage and announced to her dad/my brother, “Tee Tee and Uncle Beloved are 4th row center.” And we were. She’s a smart little stinker.

But, you know, it’s good for her to learn at this early age that the theatre world is fraught with joys and disappointments, highs and lows, and what you think should obviously come to you may not actually come to you and that you sometimes have to make the most of something less than hoped for or something less than what you had the last time. You will be passed over for valid reasons or stupid reasons. You won’t always get what you believe you deserve.

Just play it to the bone, leave nothing in the green room, and you will shine; big light or small light, you will shine.

With or without your raisins from Fresno.

That’s what ol’ Tee Tee will tell her.

March 26, 2012

-image-i’m kind of in love with this guy

“Your handsome-ass grandfather had one blade AND polio.”


March 24, 2012

-image-the kid is p.r.e.s.e.n.t.

Okay. One of two things is happening here:

Either the Wells Fargo wagon’s comin’ down the street OR she is going off the rails on a crazy train.

(Whatever it is, the middle girl is only vaguely interested and the right-hand girl is wondering where her mom is sitting. The levels of engagement in this photo are cracking me up.)

Original Banshee (left) in The Music Man which we see tonight!

Banshee, I love you. But you are popping a neck vein and I’m very concerned.

March 21, 2012


Since I now work from home, I think I’m losing track of the workings of the real world. I really do. True, my grip on how the world works has never been exactly vise-like to begin with, let’s face it, but now it feels like sands through an hourglass. Like I’m becoming mentally incontinent. That’s right. Incontinent. Not incompetent, although I’m always willing to consider there’s an element of that, but mentally incontinent. As if any kind of understanding of basic real world interactions just seeps right out of me even when I don’t expect or want it to.

So either I just don’t understand things on a basic intelligence level OR I think about things that other people don’t think about but wouldn’t understand either if they did OR I’m slowly becoming mentally incontinent.

Because here’s a weird thing I don’t get and don’t know how to handle. I think it’s a uniquely “female” thing, too, mainly because I don’t know any men who act this way or, rather, I don’t want to know any men who act this way. But this little scenario has happened to me a few times in the last year and I want it to stop because, frankly, I don’t want to deal with it. So it boils down to this: I just need people to be different so I can crawl back into my Howard Hughes hidey hole. Simple schmimple.

The scenario (culled from a couple of similar scenarios):

Let’s say you have a cyber acquaintance and you occasionally email on a personal but not-too-deep level. (I am not referring to anyone who reads this blog.) A few months go by with no communication between the two of you. Out of the blue, acquaintance emails asking why there’s been no communication and you’re put on the spot. Now again, the noncommunication has been mutual. She’s not communicated with you; you’ve not communicated with her. During these few months, you haven’t had a single thought about “why” there’s been no communication, but now that it’s put in front of you, courtesy of the acquaintance, you stop and think about it and come to the conclusion that it’s probably just been real life getting in the way. It’s not something you’re necessarily looking to dissect or diagnose or ….. blame. You literally have not thought a single moment about any “why” at all — until now, when you’re forced to do so. And that’s the irritation of it: Why are we women so quick to assume there’s an issue in this kind of scenario? Why does it need to be discussed AS IF there is an issue? And why is the noncommunication my fault when it’s been mutual noncommunication? Is it simply my fault because she brought it up?

And what do you do if the real answer to an annoying “Why haven’t we communicated?” is “Hell, I don’t know”?

Because, damn, I don’t know and “I don’t know” is not a good answer to give to a woman.

I know. I’m a woman.

So you write back, gently refusing to shoulder all the blame for the noncommunication, and say, “Well, now that I think about it, I imagine we’ve both just been busy.”

Both. Perhaps we’ve both been busy?

Don’t lay this all at my feet, peaches. Don’t play that game with me. See, because now you’ve gone and made me mad. I was going happily along, growing my corkscrew fingernails, doing my work, and BAM! my tissue-boxed feet are suddenly put to the fire — and that can’t have a good outcome, now can it? There was zero issue before and now, frankly, the issue is you’re irritating me. You’re making something out of nothing — which we dames are very good at and so, yeah, I’m tasting my own medicine and, boy, is it ever bitter — but besides that, you’re laying the blame for this non-issue entirely at my feet and all I want to do is kick it back in your cyber-acquaintance, wouldn’t-recognize-it-on-the-street face.

See, because now you’ve gone and made me mad with your non-issue but I can’t tell you I’m mad because there wasn’t an issue but NOW there is, and I can’t tell you that and still seem sane.

I cannot stand mind games. I hate them. Please don’t make me play them because I’m bad at them and, besides, I just don’t like being that …. person who plays mind games.

And, again, is this necessarily an issue? Sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn’t. When you’re mostly just acquaintances at best, when you haven’t shared all that deeply with each other, why would you create this kind of issue where one may not even exist? Why go digging for an issue with, again, an acquaintance? Why do you assume that an acquaintance should have that level of ….. I don’t even know what word to use ….. accountability to you?

I don’t get it. I really don’t.

Another scenario:

Since I work from home, my colleagues are cyber colleagues. I’ve gotten to know a few of them and we IM back and forth during the day, sometimes with chit-chat, but mostly with work-related questions. Recently, at day’s end, I IM’d one of them to tell her to have a good evening or something and she wrote back, “I haven’t heard from you all day” complete with a frowny face emoticon.

Oh, for God’s sake.

I don’t know what was more annoying to me: the thought or the frowny face accompanying the thought. I was simply minding my own business, literally, but, still, my grade for the day? :-(

You know, I could have said the same thing but the difference here is that I didn’t and I wouldn’t. I was busy working. I assumed she was busy working. It wasn’t personal. It didn’t mean a thing, my silence, and I assumed hers didn’t either.

Look, I’m as capable as the next woman of feeling insecure in my female relationships. I’m guilty too, so I don’t want seem like I’m somehow above the insecurity fray. I’m not. But this kind of thing — where there’s mutual silence, where there’s nothing that you’re expressly waiting/hoping for a response about — well, I try to avoid frothing about that. I’m very good at frothing, as evidenced by 99% of this blog, but it’s exhausting and it wears down the batteries, so I’m really trying to limit that in my life now. I have died on way too many hills in my life and it’s getting expensive to keep disposing of the body.

Since I got to be the one to try to smooth over another something from nothing, I said basically the same thing to this woman that I’d said to the other, something like, “I guess we’ve just been busy today!”

I did not apologize to either of these women because I didn’t feel that I owed an apology in either situation although I did feel like one was being fished for. I’m a funny girl, I guess. I don’t like feeling manipulated into believing a mutual noncommunication is solely my fault or that there’s even any blame to be assigned at all, so nope, no apology for you, Crackie.

Some things are just more complicated with cyber relationships. You can’t see a face and glean meaning from expressions. You can’t hear a voice and glean meaning from tone or inflection. It’s harder and trickier. But since that is the case, and especially when we’re dealing with acquaintances, just leave well enough alone. Assume the best. Don’t go digging for nothings. Don’t assume a closeness or accountability that’s not there. Don’t lay blame that isn’t deserved for scenarios that don’t even exist.

And, most importantly, unless you’re my mother, don’t send me frowny faces about my behavior, ‘mkay?

March 19, 2012

-image-the little things piss you off the most

A 12-year-old kid gives us the what-for about “fake doughnuts.”

You go, kid.


“It’s just a BAGEL! A BAGEL!”


March 18, 2012


Original Banshee, on the left, “playing” the trumpet. She opens in The Music Man next weekend. Cannot wait to see it.

Look at her, shooting joy out of the corners of her eyes.
I seriously can’t bear it. I laugh/cried my way through The Sound of Music last year when she played Gretl. (I have yet to even write about that evening but I intend to.)

It sounds, well, egotistical to say, I suppose, but there were moments when she was onstage when I literally saw myself in her. I’ve noticed it before in her and MB has too. She was only 7 last year, the youngest Von Trapp kid in the play, but she stole that show. I know, I’m her aunt. I would think that, right? But I’m also an actress and I know when someone is stealing the show. That kid has a presence onstage but also knows how to BE present onstage. No one has taught her that. It’s just something she already has. Some of her expressions onstage, the way she uses her eyes, I …. saw myself.

No, she’s not my daughter; she’s my niece, but I guess it makes that childless and wounded part of my heart hurt less to see a little bit of me live on in her.

I think I’m allowed to see that, just a little bit, aren’t I?

(Also, whoever decided to give the littlest kid in the photo the biggest instrument, good job. It works. It’s funny.)

March 17, 2012

-image-just now

ME: Hm. I was hoping for more comment from you on that.
HE: Huh??
ME: I said, “I was hoping for more comment from you on that” and you said “Huh??”

March 16, 2012

-image-random snippets

ME: So I’m at the eyeroll part of the book. Did you know that demons all have names?
HE: I did not.
ME: They do and you’re supposed to use their names when addressing them.
HE: So you can’t just say “Attention, demon of lust” or something?
ME: No. You’d have to call him by name. Like, “Attention …. Naughty Jurgen!”
HE: “Naughty Jurgen”?
ME: Well, I don’t know what the hell his name is.


ME: I did not know how to comfort her. It’s a bunny.
HE: What’s wrong with it?
ME: It has arthritis. It gets laser treatments for arthritis.
HE (pause): That’s like getting veneers for a hamster.

IMing on the job ……

SHE: Holy Christmas! “Ate some old cold meats from a safe.” What the f**k does that mean? A safe? who puts meat in a safe?!?!?
ME: Who did? The patient?
SHE: Yep, the patient… old meat in a safe.
SHE: Yep, that’s what doc said… a safe.
ME: So did it make him run amuck in a murderous frenzy afterwards? (ed. reference to earlier conversation)
SHE: I was wondering about that. Unfortunately, he only got abdominal pain… surprise, surprise… moron. You don’t eat meat from a safe.
ME: Advice of the day there, D: “You don’t eat meat from a safe.” I want that on a t-shirt.
SHE: That’s a facebook status right there.
ME: You should tell all your FB friends.
SHE: I’m gonna do that right now. Okay. I certainly did just make that my status.
ME: Sage advice. People need to know.
SHE: This guy is a dope! His wife’s a nurse! He didn’t know enough not to eat meat from a safe?
ME: Hahahaha. We cannot get over it.
SHE: NO, we CAN’T!

More IMing on the job …… sometimes voice recognition is an inexact technology ….

ME: So here’s what VR heard: “The patient has not responded to the multiple animals ordered by Dr. Larson.”
SHE: What did he actually say?
ME: Enemas. Not animals.
ME: And here I was picturing some nice little doctor bringing her puppies and kitties and bunnies to try to cheer her up.
SHE: WAY better than enemas.
ME: Tru dat, mama.

ME: Again, wrong, VR: “Patient wants to try to lose weight on heroin.”
ME: S/b “on her OWN.”
SHE: I should try that, though.

March 14, 2012

-image-in my inbox ………

“Fyi..tomorrow is “t” day for (Banshee Girl) at preschool! She decided on her own to take a picture of Aunt “T-T”…that’s the way she spelled it…because it would be a double “T”!”

(Signed, sister-in-law)

Because, pippa, obviously T stands for Tee Tee and all the little children need to learn this. Not tree or train or tomahawk.

Tee Tee.

Seriously, though, so cute.

(And, actually, Trace, the teacher might not like it if Banshee Girl were to bring in a tomahawk for T day, scaring the kiddos and all.)

On the other hand, who knows what that picture of me looks like??

I am now picturing all the little preschoolers sobbing into their mother’s arms at day’s end because of some horrible scary picture of “T-T.” Note to self: Fewer pictures of Tee Tee; more tomahawks.

March 13, 2012

-image-posting light

Until wrist recovers.

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