Shave and a Haircut

Did I tell you I’m getting a haircut? Oh. Well. I’m getting a haircut.

I don’t know why I always get so nervous! It is never as bad as I think it is going to be. And it grows relatively fast.

Let me start over. My hair has always been a source of vanity. I generally keep it long. This is more out of time constraints (being unable to schedule appointments) and the unwillingness to justify paying $30+ to have my hair basically look the same. I don’t blow dry it, I don’t color it, I don’t curl it, I don’t straighten it. It just is. And because I don’t do anything to damage it, I tend to have pretty healthy, good lookin if not boring hair.

Once every few years, I get tired of it. Tired of brushing it, tired of washing it, tired of having it in my face, tired of the headache a ponytail causes, tired of it blowing everywhere, tired of the static electricity, tired of getting it caught in everything, tired of…well you get the point. So I make an appointment to chop it all off and I donate it.

I feel slightly guilty about even mentioning that I donate it. Yes, it goes to a child who will have a far different life just because of the way people will treat him/her just because they get to blend in with everyone else. But really, I get to offload a weight from my scalp that causes more headaches than theatre, I usually get a discount on the haircut, and I spend less overall on shampoo and conditioner. I’m stingy.

And then I get nervous. What if this is the time I cut my hair short and it looks stupid? I’m going to Aveda, where the people cutting my hair are students. So far, they have always done a fantastic job for me. But what if this time I get the girl who just broke up with her boyfriend? Or the guy that barely passed his test to cut hair with my head shape? Or the super experimental kid with the faux-hawk? Or worse, the super boring one? And what if it is too hard to fix and I look stupid for my honeymoon.

I booked the appointment a month ago. I have until Saturday to change my mind. Saturday February 4th, the day I lost my mind.


Whine time

I’m sleepy. I’m helping Shelby with his show which opens tomorrow. The designers (lights, sound, video) won’t get out of the space. They are still changing and tweaking and driving us nuts. Their manipulations also require that they move large flats and or lighting equipment that is hanging around backstage. Without telling anyone. When the lights are out.

I fell down today. Totally bit it. My foot got caught on a cord and I went down face first. My hands are sore, but the ground is smooth so no cuts there. But my knee is killing me. I caught my right foot which set my left knee up to catch my fall. I, of course, put a hole in my pants. One of three pairs of work pants that I can actually make fit me right now and the knee has a hole in it. And then my actual knee turned bright red. It’s swollen, red, black and blue, and stiff. I feel like a big idiot. And I’m sore in my arms and legs from tensing up to break my fall.

What would happen if I never fell down again? That would be totally neat. I could get behind that.

When can I not be in pain anymore? I always feel uncomfortable. A little sore in the arms. Sore in my back. Stiff neck. Restless legs. My feet haven’t felt right since  my wedding. I think my hurried pedicure might have been a mistake.

In any case, that’s as much whining as I can muster now. Have lovely evenings.

Holy Smokes!

I totally got 30 jobs approved. I have been buried.

On a brighter note, I had my review on Friday and it was spectacular! I received an overall scoring of Exceeds Expectations. But in addition, received feedback from by supervisor that she has been approached a few times by different people who feel that I have the personality and skill set to be in project management. From what I have been able to tell, project management is a lot like stage management by for professional businesses. And it pays. Really well. Really really well.

This is not the first time job change has been brought up in my meetings. People see areas of opportunity for me that I wouldn’t even think to look for. I happy. I comfortable. I’m stable. But, I have been thinking about my job lately. Not in any negative way, but in a “How many more years can I do this before I shrivel?” kind of way. How far can I really go?

Change is definitely brewing. It makes me nervous, excited, anxious, and uncertain. I doubt anything will happen soon, but something is coming. Wish me luck.

Friday the 13th

I’m not what most would call superstitious. I whistle backstage. I love my friend’s black cat to bits though she crosses my path all the time. I walk under ladders. I have broken a bazillion mirrors which should technically mean I have bad luck for the rest of my life, but is really more of an instant problem since I usually slice my finger on the glass.

And then there are full moons and Friday the 13ths. And the world seems to fall absolutely apart. People are crazy. Today stinks.

Picture Perfect

I used to take pictures all the time. I have boxes of photographs of people I’m sure were either extremely popular or very important to me, most of whom I can’t remember. I can only tell what state the pictures were taken in my whether or not they were outside.

So I stopped taking pictures. I bought a disposable camera once or twice. I found one of them about a year ago and had the pictures developed. Imagine my surprise at seeing pictures of a younger, thinner Shoobs and I from the very early stages of our relationship.

And then I got a digital camera a few months early for Christmas. And I can’t stop. I overheard a couple people talking about friends, or studies, or artists that took a picture of themselves everyday for one year to compare their faces, lines, weight after a year of trial and tribulation. And that bug bit me. I have tried taking a picture every night since January 1. They are not flattering. Here, let me show you. 🙂

I Met Billy Idol!

Above and below are from a one night production Shoobs and I participated in. We’re weird.

That's no mask

Try this guy on for size.

Oh Yeah

The truly flattering ones are still on the camera.

Thanks dad! Hope you don’t regret it!

Stage Manager

Bless his poor little anxious heart, I roped the Huz into theatre and he took the bait, hook line and sinker.

Some of us are built for management. Shoobs is definitely one of those people. He has remarkable instincts, sees the broader picture, and has the creativity to get to an end goal even when obstacles line the path. He has a calming nature, a sense of “don’t worry, I’ll take care of it”. He exhibits this in work, theatre, and party planning (among other things). What he lacks is confidence. He would admit this whole heartedly I am sure. He also lacks the willingness to turn in anything half-assed (when it comes to things he will be held accountable for).

And so he has fallen victim to the love/hate relationship that is theatre.

It is a job. It almost requires full-time dedication, and depending on the cast and complexity of the show, may require more than full-time dedication. And with a full-time job that actually pays, it can be hard to balance. I think he is losing interest, and it makes me a little sad.

This started as a last-minute “dresser” position. Our friends were putting on a production that required many quick changes and they simply couldn’t do it on their ow. While we were out of town for a friend’s wedding, I got a text message asking if we would be willing and available to help out. Shoobs jumped at the chance, entranced by the world of theatre and the coolness of the people in it. This dresser position turned into more of an ASM role which he gobbled up with vigour. He would be given instruction and with a hearty “Yes ma’am!” would run backstage and ask me what the heck that meant. He never gave the impression he didn’t know what was happening, and was always there with a smile and a calming attitude.

So he got asked to do something else. Which he did with equal excitement and anticipation. Which led to something else, and something else, and something else. I think he took a long enough break for us to get married, but has pretty much been all theatre all the time. He is currently stage managing a show for Little Green Pig, and will take a short break for us to go on our honeymoon before he starts another show for Ghost & Spice. And so far I think that’s all he’s committed to. And then he might be done.

Theatre has lost its shine. He delved into the dredges where people are bitter, lazy, irresponsible, and will only stretch their creativity in so far as coming up with excuses. He has worked on shows that don’t sell which is as demoralizing as theatre can get. Especially when you have poured hours into an exhausting affair that most people were only half on board with in the first place. Now you don’t even have the ticket sales to validate your self-torture. But he has also worked on shows where professionalism is key, and folks are genuinely excited about the project they are taking on, and everyone loves him and his creativity. But sadly, those experience aren’t with “our” company and so he has to receive the bitter remarks and underhanded comments regarding commitment and dedication to a (failing, apathetic, disjointed, creatively stagnant) theatre company. 

So what do you do? Hurt your friends feelings by leaving and joining a more positive team? Destroy personal relationships for what may turn out to be an equally dismal affair? Or stick it out, try to fix what’s broken?


The entire family gathered together in July to witness the nuptials (that sounds dirty) of Baby Sis and Future D. (Her new huz is in medical school. To provide some level of anonymity, I have nicknamed him Future D [short for Future Doctor].) We gathered around family dinner tables, had parties, shared stories, danced, and had a deliriously wonderful time. Our parting words were, “See you in November!”

The entire family gathered in November to witness the nuptials of Me and Shoobs (or Shoobs and I for the grammatically inclined). We played games, talked, ate good food, sang, and again, had a deliriously wonderful time. Our parting words this time were “See you at Christmas!”

Christmas was amazing, and far too short. Future D was there for the first time on the day. I felt like I could leave Shoobs alone to fend for himself with the men while I played dragons and went to the zoo. We played games every night (I think) and laughed at each other’s amazingly awkward performances in front of Xbox Kinect and Wii dancing. “I can’t imagine why I’m not scoring more on this dance! I feel like I’m nailing it!”  To my knowledge, there were no blow ups, no awkward situations, no fights. Everyone got along and had a smashing good time. Battle of the cooks was a huge success.

This time when we left, we had no date to look forward to. No “see you in March!” When you think about it, next Christmas is the “off year” for at least the Lawyer and the Professor, probably Baby Sis and Future D as well. We can visit each other individually, but the expanse between us and the cost of travel these days makes that more of a hope than a likelihood.

And so I got sad. I left a bustling house full of love and joy and went to my In-Laws, a house equally as loving but far more quiet. And then I went home. Back to the grind. Taking down Christmas lights and cutting up the tree, work in the morning and not getting off until it’s dark. Trying to find excuses to see people, and trying to find the time. And being discouraged by the anticipation of 35 new jobs we expect to have approved later this month.

I shoulda married a millionaire.