Some of you may think, "That Carrie. There's just something off about her. Something not quite right."

Me, too, y'all. But now rather than a vague notion that I had an overdeveloped sense of whimsy - that I was a little short and had a barrage of different things that irk me, including stone statuary, gourds, woodland creatures and tapioca pudding - now I've found that there's ACTUALLY SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME.

You know you're dying to know what it is. )
♛I've been working at theatre camp all week. These are some of the most talented students I've ever had the pleasure of working with. Also, they're some of the most uninhibited; I think that's part of what makes an actor great, letting go of what everyone else thinks and just being. Yesterday I got to coach scenes and monologues, one of my very favorite things in the world to do. The kiddos did a flash mob (to Fleetwood Mac!) at our largest grocery store in town today to promote their show this week, and it was super cool. So fun.

♛The chubbiness is getting out of control, and I feel there might be a direct correlation between that and the volume of food I'm putting in my mouth. I haven't even stepped on the scale in over a month. I'm afraid the poor thing might die of shock. Or strain. Or both.

♛I lost the Jeep a few days ago. I went to the mall to use my card for a free Victoria's Secret panty (like you do) and when I got back out to the parking lot, NO JEEP. The Jeep is no frills - no panic button, no remote entry, no power windows or anything else. I was upset - not because we don't have insurance, but because I was going to have to tell Mr. H. that the car was stolen on MY watch. I walked around in the boiling Texas heat for twenty minutes before I remembered I entered through a different door than I normally do. WHAT. AN. IDIOT.

♛My back has been killing me for months. Since March? I've been going to the chiropractor, and I thought it was getting better, but I woke up this morning to the same level of pain I started with. It's just frustrating. Annoying. Getting old is roughly on par with chewing up broken glass. It, simply put, sucks out loud.

♛The week without kiddos was relaxing, I'm not going to lie. It's fun to not have to be responsible for anyone else but me. Oh, and Nolan a little. But he's fairly self-sufficient. However, I'm glad to have those little goobers back in the nest. We were incomplete while they were away.

♛I'm gearing up to work another week of camp - I get to direct 'Baby it's Cold Outside' and 'Sing' from A Chorus Line, comedies both. :D Very fun. And I'm making a costume plot for La Cage... anyone want to place a bet that there's over a hundred separate costumes? Eeeek. :)
For me, the title of this post may as well be another phrase for "Weekend Involving Self-Torture and Mental Anguish."

Alright, maybe that's a little dramatic. It is an occupational hazard, after all.

So let me back up. Sometime last week, the date was announced for my twenty year reunion. Ever since then, my former classmates have been replying with "Can't wait!" and "So excited!"

My knee jerk response is somewhere along the lines of, "Cautiously Anxious!" and "Fearfully Apprehensive!" with the occasional, "Oh, HELL, no!" My ten year reunion was patentedly NOT fun. Though my being eight weeks pregnant and wanting to throw up every two seconds might have put a damper on the festivities, somewhat. But twenty? How could it be more fun? (Except for the being pregnant part. That won't be an issue. Any nausea I feel will be from crappy early nineties pseudo-music.)

Come on, folks. I cannot be the only one who feels this way.

The good old days? No. Not really. )
persephone33: (CARRIE)


( Mar. 31st, 2011 08:03 am)
First of all on this chilly Tuesday, I'd like to report that my kids are watching a Looney Tunes retrospective thing that one of them recorded on the DVR, and giggling like crazy. Yosemite Sam transcends the ages, you know? And in "Knighty Knight Bugs," when he says with a moue of disgust, "Dragons is so stupid!" I laugh every time. I probably always will. Ethan said, "I like how Bugs Bunny always gets the best of everyone."

Me, too, kid. Bugs is hilarious. All I can think is how much fun my dad would have if he were here. I spent many a Saturday morning snuggled up on the sofa watching these same cartoons with him thirty years ago.

THIRTY years ago.


I think I might have just thrown up in my mouth a little bit.

However, that segues nicely into the topic I set out to tackle this morning.


Video clip and advice for the youth of today... )
persephone33: (i got lost)
( Mar. 15th, 2011 09:21 am)
If you saw the title of this blog post and belted out "...All alone in the mooooonlight!" a la Betty Buckley, then... you would be like me. Ten points. Brava.

This is not a post about overused lines from musicals of the eighties. Some of you sigh with relief. Some of you are saying, "Darn it!" I fall into both categories, oddly enough. No, I'm using the quiet of my home during this Spring Break morning to talk about memory.

Or the lack thereof.

I had a cut title, but I can't remember it. )
persephone33: (I love vinyl)
( Mar. 4th, 2011 08:57 am)
I bring you a post with a story, this morning.

I've shared what I call 'cute kid stories' with you over the years; I think they're cute, anyway. You people might think they're moronic and I'm wasting my computer's battery relaying it - but whatever. Here's another.

Puff something. I KNOW it's Puff Something! )
What a week, folks. Let me tell ya, it was a whopper.

So remember back to when you were in your early twenties (shut urrrrp, all you people who ARE) and if you got sick, or you took a spill, and you could just bounce back like nothing had happened?

Yeah. Not so much for me, anymore.

Earlier this week, in preparation for the Thanksgiving festivities, I decided to do a deep clean of my house. Honestly, I was just trying to keep the cobwebs from multiplying. In retrospect, standing on an antique dining room chair to dust the chandelier was The Wrong Thing To Do. For let me tell you, dear reader, when you lose your balance on a rickety wooden chair that can't hold your weight, and you lie on the brick floor for a few moments thinking you're DYING, you gain perspective. Like:

a) using an actual OSHA approved step stool might be a smart thing to do.

b) And that cobwebs are fine where they are.

c) And how many people really look at the light fixtures, anyway?

d) Wow, this floor really IS clean, thanks to Ethan's flooding mishap.

The result is several bruised ribs and a very sore sternum later, I find that even with cobwebby lights, the stuffing still tasted good. Even though getting dressed is an exercise in torture, I have a good feeling about next week. I will keep my feet firmly on the ground, I won't get five bazillion Black Friday emails (I did go out shopping for a few hours today - those people are cuh-ray-zee) and I have leftover mashed potatoes.

Things are definitely looking up.
persephone33: (I talk to myself)
( Mar. 19th, 2010 05:52 pm)
Some rhetorical, some Socratic, all valid.

Why do the workers finishing the road near my home insist on starting their Earth movers at 6:30 in the morning?

Why can I sleep through anything but that noise?

Why do my children find a way to argue over even things that they AGREE on?

Why do I spend time thinking about people who have hurt me?

Why do I still care about said folks?

Why is it 35 degrees during Spring Break?

Why is it when I can't turn my head, the Chiropractor has taken the week off?

Why is it that some of my dearest friends live so very far away?

What does the color blue taste like?

Why, when I need to hang on for dear life to the barely tangible threads of plot, that my characters want to chatter on about nothing in particular?

Why is Penny dating Leonard when Sheldon is the clear choice? COME ON!

Why won't Bones and Booth JUST ADMIT THAT THEY lurrrrrrve each other?

Why do mushrooms taste so good in everything?

Why, when I KNOW I need a good wine opener, do I CONTINUALLY forget to buy one?


I think I'll soldier through with the wine opener I have, have a few glasses, and maybe I won't care about these questions quite so much. ;)

Good day to you all.
persephone33: (emoticon cheerleader)
( Sep. 2nd, 2009 11:46 am)
I started the 30 Day Shred. Oh, good gravy in the early morning, it's tough.

I don't care much for Jillian Michaels (I haven't ever liked any workout guru; I still even harbor a holdover resentment to Jane Fonda), but the workout as a whole is a good one. I certainly feel it. All over. Name a muscle group, and it's sore. This is in addition to my walking regime (3-5 miles a day) and dance rehearsals that are kicking my rear end (not to mention slapping it). Dancing for 4 hours in 3 inch heels will do good things for your legs, let me tell ya.

And by good, I mean they really, really hurt.

Pain? What pain? I'm not in pain... No....

I've got my costumes for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. (Shopping for purposely provocative clothes is very freeing. :D) They are, as a whole, low cut, animal print, tight, lacy and sheer. Which explains the whole first part of the post. Except I should have stopped eating last February if I wanted to look like some of the other size two girls. One of them said, "Whores come in all sizes, Carrie."

Um, thanks.

That may be, but in this show we have 1) itty bitty and... 2)me. So... *sigh* What can you do? I have good hair. They can't take that from me.

One of the other "whores" in the show is having to leave the company to join the Broadway touring production of Phantom of the Opera, to understudy and eventually play Christine. I'm so happy for her. I'm the teensiest, tiniest bit jealous, to be completely honest, but really, really overwhelmingly happy for her, on the whole. I don't know what they're going to do about filling her spot. Selfishly, I'd like some more lines, but it'd probably be best if she were replaced, for all the dance formations and libretto parts.

Past that, I've been busy trying to get the house clean; we're a host home for one of our church's home groups every Wednesday night until December. And we're having people over to dinner Friday. And Mom and Tom are coming on Saturday.

Holy cow, I've got to get off the computer. I've got STUFF to do.

Y'all have a great day!

P.S. Farkle is ridiculously addictive.
So staying up until 2 am and then getting up at 7 does not agree with my body like it did when I was 25... But I did go to the cast party last night and had a fabulous time, and then got up to finish cleaning and getting ready for AJ's birthday party (I'll post pics of that on his actual birthday. A good time was had by all.) I even managed to sneak in a nap this afternoon - though I had very strange, not particularly restful dreams so I woke up frazzled.

I'm running out the door to the theatre, but I thought I'd post finished pics of the set, now complete with set dressing and everything. I think they did an exceptional job.

If you want to see... )

Alright, I'm off to see about getting some caffeine so I can make it through the evening without yawning.

Big love to all!
persephone33: (No ninjas)
( Feb. 12th, 2009 08:41 am)
1.  I FINALLY got to the post office yesterday, with my stacks of prizes to be mailed the the Haiku contest winners, runners up, and honorable mentions.  So if you're one of those girls, keep an eye on the mailbox for a manilla envelope.  :)  The only people who haven't given me their address and therefore have gifts sitting in my closet that I, quite frankly, keep eyeing, are [ profile] jessicakmalfoy  and [ profile] peacefulwmn9 .  If you want prizes, send your address to

2.  The inside of the big toe on my right foot is NUMB.  As in -  it has no feeling at all.  Like it's had a little stroke.  I'm only mildly concerned.  I mean if part of me is going to have a stroke, the big toe is not a bad option, right?

3. The little boy who plays my youngest son in the play hugged me last night and asked me if he could have a BB Gun for Christmas. 

...  Uh, dude?  You have a mother.

He was so sweetly sincere, though, that I didn't laugh at him.  I looked at the director, paused and then patted him and said, "We'll see."

I have no idea if that was the right thing to do, but I figure that it couldn't really hurt.  *shrugs*


I fell yesterday.  Not an horrific fall, but an 'I'm walking really fast in my boots with the three inch heels and step of a curb' fall.  Pratfall.  Carole Lombard.  Lucille Ball.  Dick Van Dyke.  I'm sure it looked idiotic.  Nolan (who was sitting in the car with his dad at the time) said it looked like I fell out of frame.  Not only did I fall, but I fell ON MY BUTT in a big mud puddle.  In front of my husband and father-in-law.  And then I SWORE.  Twice.  Not the big guns, but definitely inappropriate around the father-in-law.  However, Nolan said he read my lips in the rear view mirror as they were driving away, and that he might have to wash my mouth out with soap.  I say I saved the worst for when no one was around and he should be grateful.

The really bad part?  Today I ache.  ALL OVER.  My arms, my back, my legs.  Seriously.  I'm 35, not 85; I should be able to take a little spill and bounce right back, right?  Evidently not.  Stupid traitorous body.

And one of Nolan's employees stepped through the ceiling in the master bathroom in the new house.  Tell me why it had to be one of OUR guys?  Why couldn't it have been one of the other million yahoos that are working out there? The house is coming along, though.  I dunno if it'll be March 1 like they said, but I can hope.

I had a meeting yesterday with the new Education Director of the Theatre.  (It sounds so official, but it's someone that's been a good friend for YEARS - he's gonna be GREAT, although it is kind of strange that someone who is like a son to me will now be my boss.  Gah, I'm old!)  I very clearly stated what I wanted to teach, and gave suggestions for how things could be improved, but I have the sneaking suspicion that it won't matter, and the classes I want to teach more than any of the others will go to someone who knows jack sh with less formal training and experience than I have.  

Never mind that I was unceremoniously stripped of classes I had taught for 3 years at the beginning of last year.  

For no good reason.  Twice.  *grumbles*  

That's a long story that I don't really want to rehash right now.  Anyway, I should know by Monday what it'll be.  Playwrighting & Playwrighting Production, certainly, but two more that are yet-to-be-named.  More money, more time, more teenagers to love!  And I really do love it.  It's certainly not the pay.  ;)



persephone33: (Default)


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