persephone33

In light of my twenty year high school reunion this weekend (*cough cough choke*), I'm feeling like pontificating and sharing a little life wisdom with you folks. At the ripe old age of thirty-eight, I feel like I have some things I need to get out there. Odd bits of knowledge. Suggestions for being fabulous. Instructions to make your life easier. Advice for the girl (or boy as the case may apply) on the go.

After this post, I'm going back to being thirty-one, though. Everyone please remember that. Thank you. Are you ready? Here we go!

Guidelines for a Pretty Awesome Way to Live

( ... )
.....Aaaand that's it. I just really thought that some of this needed to be said. Take it with a grain of salt, hide me on Facebook, print it out and put it on your fridge, or remove me from your Google reader. Do what's right for you.

I shall now go back to being the bad example you've all come to know and love.

Have a great weekend!

~Carrie Leigh

Life has, again, eaten me whole. I was right in the middle of costumes for La Cage (Literally, RIGHT in the middle, working from a ginormous stack of mending and altering) when the artistic director of the theatre asked...

AD: "Are you auditioning for In the Next Room?"

Carrie. (Thinks about what that would entail. Blushes furiously.) Um... No.

AD. "Would you costume the show?"

And because I'm a complete and total sucker for all things Victorian, I said yes. Giddily, most likely. While giggling.

( Photographs )

So life, alas, she has not stopped. I've jumped from one project into another, not even waiting before the first one was finished. I'm about to wrap up In the Next Room (my part, anyway), and wonder what I'll do once it's over. I've got a lot of sitting planned. And I've got some television watching lined up. Actual watching, not just listening while I have a lap full of alterations to do. I'm psyched. On Sunday, however, I took some time and did something I've not done in a rather long time. I baked.

I rejoiced when I found this recipe. A fall cake without even a hint of a pumpkin? I remember: I actually gasped. (If you know me, you're aware of the violent irrational irritation I get in reaction to the barrage of pumpkin-related things in the Fall. It very nearly pisses me off.) In any case, Nolan loved this cake. He even ate it again the next day, which is nigh unto unthinkable, for him. And it made the house smell fantastic.
( Recipe )

Enjoy. :)

Whenever I finish a big project, like the show we just struck yesterday, my body decides that it has a bit of time to not be in top form, and oftentimes decides to shut down.

I wish to tell my immune system in a very stern voice: Now is not that time. I'm jumping into the next project (Victorian costumes!), have to build at least three sets of Victorian undergarments and various and sundry other costume-y type stuff, will spend the next two weekends out of town for a marriage retreat and my 20 year reunion, respectively, I have to make my children's Halloween costumes, finish a quilt for a baby who is nearly two months old, finish promised projects to other extended family members and take care of my family and home on top of it all.

I. Do not. Have time. To be ill.

Also, I have a touch of insomnia tonight. Fun times! So, I did the laundry from the show - extracting tattoo cover makeup from nylon/poly blend isn't as easy as one might think - and read the next play for which I want to audition, had a bath and am now sipping hot milk in an effort to get sleepy.

The play I read is funny. I love plays. That isn't to say that I don't love musicals. I do. But there's something about a play; reading a character aloud and finding the right accent, imagining the scene onstage, plotting out the comedic timing. I love it. It's as comforting as putting on a fluffy robe and curling up on the couch to watch a movie. In this particular play, that character I'd want to play is actually three different characters and have German, Scottish and English accents respectively. A dream for an actress. How much FUN would that be?

Anyway, it's a long shot. One female character, a billion girls who'll show up to audition, yet I'm ever hopeful.

The musical that we just put to bed was a good experience. It was a LOT of work. But I'm glad that I did it, and I'm happy that so many people enjoyed our efforts. It's gratifying, to put art out there and have it be recognized. And once I get the laundry done and the costumes back from the cleaners and put them all away, it'll really be finished.

You see why I don't have time to be sick?

I love Fall.

LOVE. IT. I mean it. Fall Rocks.

I love the change in the weather, the sounds of the football coaches' whistles drifting through the neighborhood (ironic, but there you have it), homecoming, school supplies, autumn decorations... I love it all.

You know what I don't love?

Pumpkins. Freaking pumpkins, y'all. I don't love them. At all.

In the fall, every blog, coffee shop, corner bakery and amateur cook decides that grinding up gourds and shoving them into something that people PUT IN THEIR MOUTHS is a good idea. Butternut squash soup. Pumpkin waffles. Zucchini bread. Acorn squash ragout. The list goes on. I counted 24 recipes on my google reader about gourds. ABOUT GOURDS. Yuck.

I don't get it.

People LOVE the seasonal pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks. They wait for them all year. They tweet. They Facebook. They wax rhapsodic.

I gag a little. I'm not gonna lie.

For me, there will be NO PUMPKIN COOKERY. (With the exception of THIS and THIS alone.) I won't have it. Even my turncoat sister said that she eats squash, now. (WHAT? I THOUGHT WE HAD SOLIDARITY! IT WAS THE ONLY THING WE HAD IN COMMON!)

She's dead to me. I hope she knows that.

There are really only a few things that I don't like. But the pervasiveness of this fall phenomenon is making it hard for me to enjoy my favorite season.

Anyhow, I'd like a squash filter for the fall season. I like my life squash-free.

This, however, seems too much to ask from the world. So I suppose I'll sigh and carry on. And still love my sister.

But I won't love squash. And you can't make me, world. So do please stop trying.

Over the fast few weeks I have:

☆ Given a mini-seminar about how to properly put on pantyhose.

☆ Shown someone how to put on a bra all by themselves.

☆ Promised people not to blog about embarrassing stuff.

☆ Admitted that I've never seen a dance belt.

☆ Passed the buck on 'below the waist' underthings costuming.

☆ Poked myself in the fingers with sewing needles a billion times. Bled. Wore band-aids.

☆ Ruined my manicure.

☆ Returned and bought back the same four pairs of shoes.

( I need help, clearly. )

More pictures when we're in full makeup and costume!

I like to think I have a certain something when it comes to fashion. When I dress for the day, I put a little thought into the outfit. I have style of sorts. (Somedays that style is Strung Out Rodeo Clown, but I digress.)

My well-traveled, fashionista friend, Sylvia posted her own list compared to Nina Garcia's The One Hundred: A Guide to the Pieces Every Stylish Woman Must Own. I don't know Ms. Garcia, but I think I can take a pass on some of these. I've bolded the ones that I lack. And commented more than necessary, perhaps.

( Which ones do you have? )

I have 78 out of a hundred. And 16 out of the 22 I don't have, I just don't have any desire for.

So remember this post where I did an interview for a hometown magazine?

It came out today.

You can find it if you click here.

In the article, I'm nebulous and chatty, and it may seem like I didn't hold back at all. However, I didn't go into the saga of Frank, my complete digust when it comes to woodland creatures, my fear of a piano, the fact I'm certain that there's a conspiracy involving the bunnies of the world, or all of the weird things my kids say.

I save that for you nice people.

You're welcome.

I love the smell of my home. You know, when you've been away, and then you come home, and it just smells like home? I like it.

Vacation: In bullet points. 'Cause I'm tired.

§ I have a billion bug bites. And they are worth it, because the beach ROCKS. I'd live there if I could.

§ Southwest Airlines. The good half makes up for the crappy half.

§ I kicked Nolan's ASS at Scrabble. To be fair, he kicked mine a few times, too.

§ I've had costuming dreams, like nonstop since I've been gone. I need to reeeest.

§ I heart seafood. Good seafood. Not Red Lobster. Red Lobster = no good. Real, fresh, seafood? Awesome. Crabcakes. Lord have mercy.

§ Sanibel Island, Florida is a charming community. I highly recommend it if you're looking for a non-commercialized place to vacation.

§ Nolan and I got a tandem bike to ride around the island. For a few minutes while we were getting used to it, our marriage was touch and go.

§ Nolan says he has hip dysplasia from all the bike riding.

§ That may have been because I let him pedal some. Without any help from me. Hee.

§ The ocean is amazing. How it changes from day to day, how it's never the same experience twice. I love the waves. I love swimming in the ocean. It's made me want to write about it, I love it so much. I have a story idea percolating to write in, you know, all my free time.

§ My friend Jason, who house sat for us and took care of our dogs while we were away, left me Kerby Lane pancake mix he got for us from when he was in Austin last weekend. The pups looked happy and well fed, and I will be too, once I make my favorite Austin pancakes. :)


Here are a few shots, if you're into that. I took over 300 photos, so I showed posting restraint.

( Paradise in one journal entry. )

That's it. Anything happen while I was away?