status update

December 2016 shall henceforth be known as the month I became Very Boring. After months of frustrating unemployment interspersed with exciting travel to exotic places, I finally took a perfectly acceptable temp job at a Real Company. It's a very dry temp job though. I spend my days staring at spread sheets and sending follow-up emails and tracking misplaced pieces of paper, and though I get a full hour for lunch during which I take a brisk walk around midtown, I sit right back down in my cubicle at 1:15pm each day to reacquaint myself with those darn spreadsheets. It's a good change of pace for me though. I'm finally learning what having an actual office job is like (answer: dull, but they give you things like free flavored coffee and a whole swivel chair to yourself), and it's been a relief to take a pause on the ole' job search. I've also used this time to take a pause on the ole' blog posts, which I have mixed feelings about. On the one hand, I have a list of posts I want to write - I have honeymoon pictures to share, a whole wedding to process, and lest I forget the idyllic Thanksgiving weekend we recently spent with friends in Palm Springs. On the other hand, I've been putting a lot of my spare time and energy into my Etsy shop which I've found to be a much-needed push into a different creative direction. So who knows? Maybe I'll come back from this little break with a million more words to write, maybe I won't. What I do know is that the holidays are almost here, I don't have a white dress to fit into anymore, and yes I will have a second helping of Christmas Day Lasagna. Stay cozy, my friends.



- Make good talk not small talk
- Welcome back
- Guilty as charged
- This might be my Christmas present to myself
- A quick, easy, and winning weeknight dinner
- Check yourself before you wreck yourself
- Between the holiday gift exchanges and my burning desire to wrap myself up in a blanket and hibernate for the next four years rest of winter, I thought it best to invest in a few new candles

status update

You guyssssss - I did it! I actually for real's not for fake got all gussied up and walked down an aisle and got married in front of 100+ of our closest friends and family and didn't fall down once!! And it was fun! It was also stressful and overwhelming and something I need not do again, ever. But it was also a ton of fun! My b'maids were total rockstars. Or rather, they made me feel like a rockstar. They fluttered around me like they were the birds in a Disney movie and I was one of the princesses, shoving me into my spanx (seriously, thanks ladies), buckling my shoes, and last-minute (literally) sewing my corset to my dress because somehow I and my seamstress, over three different dress fittings, failed to notice that the bustier was visible to anyone taller than me (which is most people). We traipsed around a nearby mall taking pictures at the Barnes & Noble and Johnny Rockets (apologies to all the people we made switch tables so that we could have the cute corner booth), had a most beautiful ceremony, and then danced like idiots for the rest of the night. I still can't feel my feet. I have a ton of ideas for separate and subsequent posts that offer actual wedding planning advice instead of just a bunch of exclamations, but for now I'm simply going to bask in the rest of this post-wedding glow and get my honeymoon on. Happy fall, y'all!!

* I'll be taking this advice very, very seriously this week
* My new obsession (and time-waster)
* I put a temporary moratorium on all things baked goods due to the wedding (see: above) but this is a strong contender for First Thing I Bake When I Get Back
* Political pockets
* I'm not alone!
* I needed this a few weeks ago when I swear every line I waited in was the LONGEST ever

status update

I don't want to be one of those people who only talks about her wedding, but my wedding is in 15 days and I can think of no other worthwhile topic to occupy my every waking thought and most of my sleeping thoughts as well. The programs have been written but not printed, the dress has been hemmed but not picked up, the card box that goes on the gift table is a task I keep shuffling to the bottom of the to-do list and you guys, NO ONE TOLD ME WEDDING PLANNING WOULD BE THIS TIME-CONSUMING!!! Blame Pinterest (obviously) and those cutesy little 6-word programs that say "music starts - we kiss - everyone parties." Granted, I knew it was going to be a little more complicated then that, but it's as though I've been in a year-long production meeting for a one-day party. Oh and on top of that I'm still trying to find my purpose a day job and jumping in on a few theater-related gigs because why the hell not. So I guess it's a good thing that my focus has been elsewhere, because this is one of the few status updates that didn't begin with a blithering recap of the current weather situation. Yay me!

*There's an entire world of competitive steel drumming and it's a rabbit hole but one worth going down
*I'm seriously considering signing up for this and this
*The eye of the artist
*I can't unsee this
*The best sushi in all the land
*It turns out I've been slow blogging this entire time!
*I don't know the first thing about neuroscience, but this was one of the sweetest stories I've heard in quite a while

status update

I don't want to be one of those people who only talks about the weather, but you guys, it's like a sauna out there. Seriously I broke a sweat just walking to yoga the other day. I really don't remember it being this hot and humid when I was a kid, but then again I spent the first 18 summers of my life at our local pool, first as a pool rat then as an actual lifeguard. So it's entirely possible that it was this hot but masked by my ability to jump in freezing cold water whenever I wanted. Since this adult life of mine does not have such easy access to a cool body of water (note to self: become friends with someone who has a rooftop pool), I instead have been obsessively watching every moment of the Olympics while setting a personal best record for ice cream eating. Those athletes are working so hard down there, it's only right that someone compensates for all their burned calories, right? Here's to Team USA!

*Read this, watch that
*Be still, my fabric-loving heart
*This sparked a fantastic brunchtime conversation
*Just in case you forgot
*Method man
*The darkest of comedies (but still so funny)
*every.single.one
*"...Leona Watson Chalmers would cite those grueling six-day weeks of theater life as the inspiration for the Tassette, the first commercial menstrual cup."

status update

Today, my beloved Fitbit app told me that I have walked a total of 1,600 miles since first donning the tracker a year and a half ago - the equivalent of the length of the Great Barrier Reef. I for one am just grateful that we in this world have the technology and the means to aggregate such ridiculous data for people. I mean, think about it: I put on a rubber bracelet, go about my business, and then months later I get a notification from the tiny computer in my pocket that I've covered a distance equal to one of the natural world wonders. It's a technological amazement. You know what else is a delightful advancement? The internet. It's full of weird and magical and sometimes even informative things, and in case you've had enough awful news this month (I know I have), here are some things that aren't so awful and that may brighten your day. Be well ;)

- Sweet (home) Chicago accent
- Be more Hemmingway
- Aziz for the win 
- Claire and I made this last week and it was delish
- This one hit close to home
- Are you confused as I am about this whole Pokemon thing? Rolling Stone explains it all
- Life hacks of the poor and aimless
- The most delightful piece of mail I've ever received

Quality Meats

I was recently on a flight (MCO - LGA) where I was trying with all my might to ignore the screaming children seated behind me. They were old enough to know better, and even if they didn't know better, their grandmother, seated in the aisle seat (the children were in the middle and window seats, respectively), most certainly should have been proactive in keeping them quiet. She, unfortunately, fell into a deep sleep before we even got off the runway in Orlando and remained in said sleep until we landed two hours and twenty three minutes later in New York.

I know all this about the family behind me because the children started screaming as soon as they sat down. Both I and my next-seat neighbor (me, window seat; he, middle) startled forward at the first of hundreds of kicks to the back of our seats, and I, already tired and annoyed at having to get up well before my usual wake-up time to make a 10am flight, grumbled something under my breath about how these kids will NOT scream through this entire flight if I have anything to say about it.

"I'll hold you to it!" said the man.

"Pshyeah!" I stammered, not realizing that I actually said my inside thoughts aloud.

Then an announcement came over the loudspeakers, the man closed his eyes and laid his head back, and I stuffed my earphones into my ears and tried to let the cool tones of Hoda and Kathie Lee lull me into oblivion (thanks, JetBlue!) as I mindlessly paged through a magazine.

The kids would not stop. At one point I was driven from mere passive-aggressive thinking to actual communication when, after sustaining yet another kick to the back of my seat, I lurched over my chair and said to the boy, "hey buddy, when you kick the back of my seat I feel it, ok?" He nodded blankly and to my surprise, ceased all extraneous movement.

For about 20 minutes, that is. Halfway through the flight, the child in the middle seat let loose a kick so hard I was surprised the captain didn't ask everyone to brace themselves for turbulence. The man next to me flew forward in his seat, glanced sideways at me, and said "I thought you were going to keep them quiet."

I shook my head. "I tried! And I failed miserably!"

He laughed. "Ah well. Looks like I'm not getting my nap in this morning."

"And I guess I'm not reading this magazine today," I sighed as I silenced Kathie Lee.

"I'm Mark," he said as he extended his hand. "What brings you to New York?"

And with that, we began as all pleasant airplane conversations begin. I told him how I was between gigs and had seized an opportunity to spend a few days in Florida at a friend's parent's house (free food! In-ground pool!!), and he told me how he used to travel from his home in Connecticut to New York on business all the time, but that he's retired now and has permanently relocated to Florida. We talked about jobs and politics and the weather and the Queensboro Bridge and how I'm an only child and he has two kids and six grandchildren, all girls. Eventually, I got around to inquiring why he was on his way to New York.

"Well," he said, matter-of-factly, "I'm going to have dinner with an old buddy of mine. One of my closest friends, in fact. We met on the golf course forty years ago, and we were foes when we started out because we were always trying to beat each other's score. But eventually we realized that we liked hanging out more than we liked playing golf, so we gave up the game and started being friends. People used to call us TooTall and TooSmall (he was very tall, you see, and while you can't see it because I'm sitting down, I'm actually very short!), and they'd see us coming and say, 'Oh look, there's TooTall and TooSmall, together again!' We even went into business together for a while, and even though we're both retired now, we talk on the phone two, maybe three times a week. But he just got diagnosed with stage-four cancer and was given only a few months to live, so I'm going to New York for the evening to have one last dinner with him. We're going to Quality Meats for steak and then we're going to find a nice quiet bar and have a couple cocktails and reminisce about the old days. This'll probably be the last time I see him."

I was very quiet for a while. "I am so sorry to hear that. That's the saddest thing I've heard in quite some time. I hope you have a good time tonight...?"

"Oh we will! It'll be good to see him again. And don't be too sad, he's lived a good long life and we've been lucky to have been friends for so long. I'm just grateful that I get to do this. But this is the important thing: live your life so that one day, you too can buy a last-minute plane ticket to say goodbye to your friend. Not everyone has the means or the freedom to do something like this, but I do, and I'm grateful for it."

We began our descent into New York not long after that. The plane came to a full and complete stop, the seatbelt sign went off, and we stood for the never ending process that is disembarking a plane, taking the opportunity to glare at the oblivious children and grandmother behind us (I noticed, with more than a little satisfaction, that I was not the only passenger in the vicinity shooting angry looks at the family). But secretly, I was the tiniest bit thankful for those obnoxious kids and their headphone-less iPads. How often do we actually talk to the stranger seated next to us on an airplane?

I'm not suggesting that every flight is going to be accompanied by moving and thought-provoking dialogue. People are often at their worst during times of travel (I know I am), and the last thing I want to do is be stuck next to some bloviating armchair politician while speeding through the air in a flying tin can 20,000 feet above the earth.

But sometimes you have to throw caution to the wind (and throw out all hopes of rest or magazine-reading) and talk to the person sharing your recycled air, because you just might be granted the gift of a beautiful story.

This is a story of a pair of pants

This is the story of a pair of pants.

But first, I have to back up to a time before the pants:

Twelve years ago, I got my first professional (read: paid) stage management gig working for my college’s theater program. I was 19, a complete theater geek, and wanted to be a director – but when my crotchety old theater professor ambled down the hall one afternoon and asked if I wanted to stage manage the fall production of A Servant of Two Masters, I figured that getting paid to do anything in the theater would be better than another year of serving burgers and beer to Packers fans at the Abbey Bar. So I lied and said that I totally knew how to call a show and sure I’ll take the job.

That show led to larger student productions that led to even larger summer stock musicals and before I knew it I was being offered a post-graduate internship at a well-known regional theater. Nine months of rehearsals, paperwork, set moves, and the occasional backstage dance party. All of it unpaid, all of it the hardest I’ve ever worked, all of it the best crash course in stage management anyone has ever received.

I remained at that lovely theater in Louisville for another two years before my boss opened the door and told me to fly free. I’d reached the limit of what I could do there – another year, and my career would start to stagnate. So I scoured the Internet and began the horrible process of cold-submitting myself to jobs and gigs across the country. After a phone interview in which I was asked what I like to put on my pizza (answer: mushrooms), I landed a job as a production assistant at a theater in New England. I later found out that my pizza-loving boss hired me because he liked the sound of my last name and figured he’d enjoy screaming it across a busy rehearsal hall.

I should pause at this juncture to point out a few key things. I won’t bore you with technicalities, but there are many facets of the job collectively known as “stage management.” At the bare minimum for most theatrical productions, there are actually two different stage managers working the same show – a production stage manager who sits in the booth and “calls” the show (dictates when the sets move, when the actors enter, and when the lights go on and off) and an assistant stage manager who remains backstage with the actors and crew and helps orchestrate the flow of everyone and everything that exists behind the scenes. While I’ve held both positions over the years, it is that of the assistant stage manager I find most pleasurable. My skills shine, my personality fits perfectly, and the rush I get from a well-executed scene is my drug.

And while we're on the informational portion of this essay, please allow me to add one more pertinent detail: when one is working backstage, unless he or she is an actor in costume, he (or she) must be as invisible as possible to the audience. And forgive me if I’m stating the obvious here, but the best way to remain hidden while running a show is to wear black clothing. This is also the best way to validate the stereotype of the techie wearing head-to-toe black, but other than an all-stereotype version of Godspell I once directed (when I still thought I was going to be a director), I am not one to comment on stereotypes.

So there I was in a dusty rehearsal room in Connecticut, playing Stage Left Rehearsal Tree #2 (the real trees would ultimately fly in, but we needed something, or someone, to help remind the actresses not to twirl into a set piece and I was cheaper than a mock-up of a tree. Both glamor and dignity have always been a very large component of stage management). The dancers eventually learned to twirl right and not left, and we soon moved into the theater for the hellacious process known as tech. I REALLY won’t bore you with the arduous details of what a tech rehearsal is like, but know that during such rehearsals, both the assistant stage manager and the production assistant are running around taking notes, trouble shooting traffic jams, putting band-aids on cut fingers, blowing up balloons, blowing up puffy chairs, brushing down furry chairs, refilling prop wine, cooking prop food, finding lost actors, finding lost costumes, finding lost props, finding lost set pieces, and any other entirely bizarre yet utterly necessary task that really needed to have been done five minutes ago if we have any hopes of making it to the end of the show before final dress.

A stage manager’s best tool is preparedness. A stage manager’s second best tool is the one in her hand, whether it be a pen, notebook, flashlight, roll of spike tape, Gerber, safety pin, tape measure, clear-com pack, line of glow tape, extra piece of tie line, clipboard full of paperwork, Sharpie, or that aforementioned band-aid. (A stage manager’s third best tool is a bottle of bourbon, but that’s a lesson for another day.) The problem with needing so many tools at once, though, is that there is never a good place to put said tools – space backstage is usually very limited, and an assistant stage manager is lucky to carve out a small square of a prop table to use as a makeshift base station. So as a result, many, if not all of those tools, are carried on her person. Or specifically, in the pockets of her pants.

Up until this point in my career, I inexplicably managed to survive my backstage life wearing nothing more than a comfy pair of yoga pants and an oversized hoodie. My thought was that if I had to be on my feet and running around for hours a day, why not be as comfortable as possible? And it worked, sort of. I learned to stash various pens and tapes in multiple nooks and corners of whichever theater I was working in at the time, but looking back I now realize that I was not practicing professionalism. Not to mention the fact that my headset’s com pack was so heavy that it continually pulled down at the elastic waistband of my pants, thus revealing whatever underwear I had chosen that day. Oh, to be young and stupid!

As soon as I made it through the first hour of my first tech in Connecticut, I realized I was going to need to change my ways immediately. While I had been spoiled with backstages the size of football fields in the past, this new theater had only an offstage left and an offstage right area. The upstage wall of the stage was the upstage wall of the building itself. And offstage right, where I was stationed, was all of five feet wide. And we were doing a 22-person musical. Space was at an all-time premium.

So after losing my pen to a moving set piece one time too many, I used my dinner break to run to the nearest store and remedy the situation. Since I was in the middle of nowhere Connecticut, the nearest store just happened to be a Wal-Mart – not my first choice for retail, but desperate times called for desperate measure. I grabbed the first pair of cheap black jeans I saw, made sure they fit, and ran back to the theater. Being the snob that I am, I figured that a pair of pants from Wal-Mart wouldn’t last long and that I’d have to invest in a more well-made pair sooner rather than later, but that they’d do for the time being. I just hoped they made it through the rest of that tech process.

That was six years ago. A lot happened after that – I moved to New York, started working at off-off-off-Broadway theaters, slowly began removing those “off’s” one at a time, and eventually worked my way uptown to the Great White Way.

And inexplicably, that pair of black jeans that I purchased in a rush 6 years ago from a Connecticut Wal-Mart is the one thing that has remained constant through my New York life. I wore those pants while wrangling original Jim Henson puppets, while resetting 64 tiny cardboard houses 112 times, while sweating my butt off at the height of summer heat waves in theaters that didn’t have air conditioning, while freezing my ass off during polar vortexes in theaters that didn’t have heat, while moving hundreds of chairs, music stands, and tables mere centimeters back and forth while the director settled on the “perfect” location, and while serving up spanakopita and Hurley Burgers at the two different restaurants I worked at during those leaner, off-off years. Those pants have been spilled on, crawled in, written on, cried in, stretched out, washed, rewashed, and tossed in the dryer and re-shrunk hundreds of times – and at the end of this past summer, they finally fell apart. The hems that had always been just an inch too long became frayed beyond an acceptable amount, and the hole in the crotch that had been slowly threatening to expose more and more of me finally grew so large that I had to wear leggings underneath just to remain decent.

Coincidently, the end of the pants coincided with the end of something larger. Or as I like to see it, the end of the pants poetically signaled the end of something larger. For a while now, I’ve been feeling like backstage is no longer the place for me. It takes a certain level of energy and tenacity to sustain the life of a freelance stage manager, and I’m not entirely sure I possess those levels any more. I’m tired of not knowing my next gig, I’m tired of not being able to purchase plane tickets for fear a job will come up that I truly have to take, and I’m tired of working a schedule opposite my partner’s and seeing him for a total of four hours each week when I’m running a show. I’m starting to resent the time that I’m at work, and that is one of the worst places for a stage manager to mentally reside. So I’ve decided it’s time for a career change.

I know what you’re thinking: “here’s the part of this incredibly long story where she finally reveals her awesome new business venture!”

Sadly, that’s not where this story is going. Instead, this is the part where I tell you that I have no idea what I’m going to do next. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, and what I need to do next is figure that out. One of the frustrating things about working in theater is that each job is so encompassing that it doesn’t give you a lot of time to think about anything else, let along other careers. I’m only at the point where I realize I need to do some serious soul-searching – not basking in the afterglow of said soul-searching and brightly looking forward to my new great lifestyle.

Truthfully, I’m terrified. I really have no idea what I’m doing, and it’s entirely possible that I’m throwing away a perfectly good career, one that I worked tirelessly to get established in, only to pivot into something completely different. I might be on the brink of a big time failure (or at the very least, a very large regret), but insert one of the dozens of inspirational quotes about failures and successes here, and help me to remind myself that I just have to trust myself and those around me who are unconditionally supporting my search.

Do not fear though, those who are still reading by this point! I’m by no means cutting theater out of my life completely, whether professionally or personally. I have a few small projects lined up over the coming months that will help me stay in the financial black, and going to see other productions will remain a constant joy in my life. Theater was my first love – no other art form has ever hit me with that strange cocktail of beauty and pain, familiarity and possibility, vulnerability and harmony. But it’s time to step away for a while and see what else is out there. I may come crying back to theater, vowing to never again leave it’s avant-garde grasp, or I may find happiness in something entirely different. But I will know that I worked hard at the career I so passionately embraced – and if anybody asks for proof, I’ll just show them my pants.

around here

Summer is in full swing here in New York, and after a horribly humid first few weeks of July, we've finally gotten some relief and have been treated to the most loveliest of sunny and breezy afternoons. The farmer's market is overflowing with giant berries and stone fruits, my CSA is providing me with more zucchini's than I know what to do with (but chocolate chip zucchini bread is a good start), I took myself on a solo one-day staycation to Rockaway Beach and gorged on books and tacos, there's a bizarrely cool art installation in Madison Square Park that I was finally able to check out, and long walks to work and on weekend dinner breaks have not only helped me dominate my Fitbit step count but also given me the urban eye candy this city is so well known for. Getting organized is the name of the game for me these days - I took an entire afternoon to obsessively reorganize the kitchen cabinets while once and for all telling the Tupperware who's boss, and I'm already making wedding to-do lists and schedules like it's my job (because it kind of actually is). There's only one more week left of the show I've been working on since April and then I'm taking a month off from theater to recharge and reassess a whole bunch of career stuff - a terrifying undertaking, but a necessary step that is long overdue. Until then, though, I'll be soaking up every last ray of sunshine I can get my hands (and face and tank-topped shoulders) on - happy summer!

These are the days

of late morning bagels and early afternoon pita pizzas 

   and izzy sodas all day long

of wedding planning and venue visiting

   and Pinteresting until way too late

of CSA pickups and fresh summer veggies

   and leafy greens for days

of binging on bad tv and reading trashy mags

   and not feeling bad about any of it

of long walks to work and short walks around the house

   just to make those 10,000 steps

of job hunting and vacation planning

   and saving my pennies because of both

of rooting for the cubs and cheering for the mets

   and knowing that they'll get 'em next year

of dancing backstage and whisky in the office

   and celebrating an extra two weeks of work

of loving the heat and the sun and the crazy long days

   even if I only see the sun set through a corner of a hallway window

of sleeping in and staying out late

   and knowing that these days won't last forever

   because things change

   and people grow

   so I'm going to enjoy them while they last.

25 Things

While sitting backstage during a very long and boring moment in tech during which light cues were altered and sound cues were fiddled with, I scrolled though my phone in an attempt to stave off the tedium (since the changes to neither the lights nor the sounds directly affected my track). In between the something-something-Hilary and blah-blah-Kardashian, I landed on this Slate.com article that sang the praises of an Us Weekly feature where minor celebrities list "25 Things You Didn't Know About Me." I'm not 100% sure why I clicked on this particular story, because I've never once read an issue of Us Weekly and I'm not particularly interested in celebrity gossip, but it was clearly a slow news day (and an even slower tech). It got me thinking about what I would include in my own list of fun facts, which quickly turned into an actual list of personal fun facts, which even quickly-er morphed into this very blog post (the creative writing process is alive and well, folks!). I actually had a lot of fun delving into the "brain archives" to come up with this list, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ;)

1. I have held over a dozen different jobs (outside of stage management) ranging from the mundane (receptionist) to the typical (waitress) to the bizarre (Easter Bunny in a shopping mall in Green Bay, Wisconsin).
2. The tune that I default to when mindlessly humming to myself is a 17-note melody from the musical Seven Brides For Seven Brothers.
3. Every time I get together with my parents, we sit around the kitchen table and complete a geography quiz found in the back of each issue of National Geographic Traveller. Doing these silly quizzes is my favorite family tradition and makes for some of my most treasured memories. 
4. I obsessively set multiple alarms in order to wake up in the morning, but they are all set at 1 minute past the quarter - so 7:01, 7:16, 7:31, 7:46, etc. This drives my partner crazy.
5. I used to lifeguard at a waterpark during my high school summers. I rescued three children in the four years I guarded, and I've always wondered who those kids grew up to be.
6. I self-diagnose my allergies, and am convinced I'm allergic to down feathers, nickel, mineral oil, and roll-on deodorants.
7. I despise the taste of green beans, and will avoid ordering something if green beans are listed as even a side dish for fear they will contaminate everything with their stench.
8. Knock on wood, I've never broken a bone.
9. I'm not a big crier, but the end of Field of Dreams gets me every. single. time.
10. I've worked professionally on over 100 theatrical productions in the past 11 years.
11. I used a dishwasher for the first time two years ago.
12. Even though I spent nearly a decade of my life working as a waitress and hating every minute of it, I still fantasize about opening my own coffee shop/bar/b&b and love coming up with names for sandwiches and cocktails.
13. I have only attended three schools - one for pre-school thru 8th grade, one for high school, and one for college.
14. I have been to 28 states and 22 countries on 4 continents, and will be adding #23 to the country list later this year (Ireland!).
15. For better or for worse, I was raised and remain a die-hard Cubs fan.
16. As a child, I wanted to be a marine biologist, magazine editor, cartoonist, dancer, and (very briefly) a shoe salesman.
17. I find pleasure in shopping for, scheduling, prepping, and cooking a large multi-course meal.
18. I grew up in Chicago, but thanks to childhood summer camps, friend's lake houses, and my college years, I consider the state of Wisconsin to be as much of a home to me as my actual hometown.
19. I am terrible about laundry - doing it, folding the clean stuff, paring socks - it stresses me out and is my least favorite chore.
20. My eyesight is horrendous, and one of my biggest fears is that my glasses will get broken while I'm on the subway platform and I'll have to call someone to come get me.
21. I am a fast and impatient walker. If you can't keep up with me, don't bother walking with me.
22. I love wandering around art museums, but sometimes I spend more time assessing what it is I love about art museums than actually looking at the art.
23. In my pre-teen years, I read a Chicken Soup for the Soul book and was inspired to create a "List of Things To Do Before I Die." I've made a few revisions over the years, but at 31 years old I'm 1/3 of the way through the list.
24. I wore a uniform up through my senior year of high school, and thus never quite figured out the whole "dressing myself" thing. If I won the lottery, one of the first things I would do is hire someone to help me shop for clothes.
25. I have always had incredibly vivid dreams, and can recall specific details from many of my dreams even years later. I also have frequent bouts of short but intense déjà vu. I have no idea if these two events are related, but I can't help but think they are.

deep thoughts (6am)

When you live in New York City, nature is nowhere to be found - and yet it's all around you. It's in the rolling hills of a Brooklyn cemetery, it's in the massive green swaths of Central Park. It's in the majestic overlook at the center of the Queensboro Bridge, and it's in the haughty gait of a pigeon strutting down a crowded street. It's even even in the frenetic energy of the subway, as crowds surge and trains rush by. But for me, nature is most present from the urban garden that is my fire escape. From this perch, I am amongst the birds and the tree tops, high above the hot streets and lost tourists. It is from here that I am owner of my own private sliver of quiet sky, and from where I can watch the seasons rush by - rainy spring to sweltering swimmer, the crisp crunch of autumn to the icy chill of winter. This is my nature center, or rather, my center of nature. It's just me and the elements here. And before I have to head down and wage another battle with the city, I take a moment to breathe deeply and take in all that is my concrete jungle.

three things

1.) I closed a show over the weekend. It was one of those rare occurrences where everyone associated with the production was downright wonderful - the actors, the designers, the crew, even front of house. I grew as a stage manager, was inspired by the director, and learned so much from one of the smartest playwrights, no, people, I've ever met. I looked forward to walking through the plaza and into those huge glass double doors each day, and I'm genuinely sad to see this one go. I don't have any work lined up over the next two months, and while I'll be spending a whole bunch of weekends in vacation transit, I'm pretty worried about finding a daytime survival job.

2.) Even though I was supposed to be working all weekend (see: above), I managed to move heaven and earth to get two days off so J and I could go to a wedding up in the Finger Lakes. It was one of the prettiest places I've been in a while - it reminded me so much of Wisconsin and Upper Michigan that my heart ached for summers past. The day after the wedding, one of the groomsmen rented a giant pontoon boat and we hopped aboard. For almost seven hours we sailed around in near-picture-perfect weather. Sandwiches and domestic light beers flowed freely, and every couple of miles we stopped to take a dip in the lake or just lay out on the bow and work on our tans. I never wanted it to end.

3.) Not that I need another hobby, but I recently took up knitting. It's slow and steady for now, but I'm working my way towards a soft grey cowl. While traveling back to the city from the wedding, I discovered that knitting is perfect for long car trips (when I'm not driving, of course) because it keeps my hands occupied but my brain free to converse with J. I worry, though, that the yarn is going to end up in the back of the closet with all my other half-finished craft projects that I began with the same vigor and enthusiasm as knitting. But maybe the recent threats of another winter-turned-polar-vortex will compel me to keep going on this one.