persephone33

But if I told you, then it wouldn't be a secret. So here's a star bullet point update, instead.

★ I keep having the same actor's nightmare over and over and over. Five times in the last three weeks, I've dreamt the same non-existent scene in the play. It has the same words, and the same actors (that I know, and that are not in my current production), and despite having dreamt this that many times, I'm still always wholly unprepared for it. This morning in the dream, the director told me to watch the movie that the scene was in to be better prepared. I wanted to cry. Stupid subconscious.

★ We're having a billion people for Thanksgiving. Or 32. Either way, I'm having to self-soothe... It'll be okay, it'll be okay, it'll be okay... on a loop. It's not the food, it's just having that many people in the house and making sure they're comfortable, etc. I was talking to a friend and fellow actress on the phone yesterday, bemoaning the state of rehearsals the telling her that I'm a control freak and that I kind of want to hide in the closet with a bottle of Crown, and she gave me some pretty sage advice:

---

Friend: You need to imagine one of those old time-y radios, you know? The ones with the knobs? And you need to envision one of those knobs being your 'give a sh*#' dial. And you close your eyes, take a deep breath and mentally turn that 'give a sh*#' knob way down. Or off.

Me: That's brilliant. Though, to be perfectly honest, I'm going to have to find that button before I can turn it down.

Friend: I'm not gonna lie. It might be in the closet with the Crown.

---

Love her. She makes me laugh.

★ Spent the better part of Friday refashioning a kind of crappy $40 JC Penney's dress into something sort of wonderful for The 39 Steps. And it only took 6 hours. :P

★ I spent over an hour this morning looking for a book my middle-schooler needed today, and we STILL didn't find it. Tell me this happens to other people, too, so that I don't sell the child into white slavery?

★ Pumpkins are still gross, and are still the devil. It's a fact. Look it up.

★ Due to the fact that I use my children to run lines, they now know how to swear in German. Mother of the year, folks. Right here. Please don't call CPS.

★ ( Supernatural spoiler? )

★ I really, really love Monday mornings, where the only noise in the house is Abbey the Lab snoring up a storm. Hope your Monday morning is as relaxing as mine. Happy Thanksgiving week! Or just Happy Monday, for those kajillion people of you out there not celebrating the American Holiday. :)

(Children are eating breakfast - Cocoa Puffs - because Carrie has given up on foods with nutritional value for her offspring until school starts. During this, children are also playing Harry Potter Lego for the X-Box 360)

Aaron. Cool. Look, I can turn into Filch's cat.

Carrie. (glances at screen) Mrs. Norris? Why do you want to turn into Mrs. Norris?

Aaron. I dunno. She's mean? She's a cat. (shrugs) It's a video game, mom.

Ethan. (puts his controller down, scrutinizes his mother) How do you know Filch's cat is named Mrs. Norris? How do you KNOW stuff like that?

Carrie. (has flashback to Bridget Jones' Diary - how does she know? She knows just as one knows their times tables or ABC's - blanket knowledge) I don't know. I just do.

Ethan. (resumes play) Sometimes I think you might be dorkier than we are.

****

Drat. I've been found out.

I really was hoping for a few more years.

The last post was a bit dramatic. It's an occupational hazard. Apologies all around.

Nolan teases me that I'm annoyingly even tempered, but only because I store up all of my upset for six months at a time, until I explode and have an "I Feel" day, spewing hot, molten crazy on everyone in my immediate vicinity. Those days are rare, but they do happen. They hurt a little, too. I need to work on letting it out little by little. A crazy release valve, if you will.

Anyway. Moving forward. Onwards and upwards. Adapt and overcome.

The show is contained, for the time being. The next two weeks will undoubtedly be grueling, but I can actually see fun from where I am. It's promising. The thing that's motivating? The principles are having such a good time; they're funny, talented and well rehearsed, so the ensemble will just be a lovely icing on an already wonderful and yummy cake.

Forgive the food metaphors. I've got cinnamon bun bread in the oven for our breakfast, and the smell is driving me a little nutty.

I tried on the cute cowgirl costume from the last post, and... I could look worse. Talk about barely contained. I'm going to have to do some strategic work with duct tape and bailing wire so that all my business stays where it belongs. A friend of mine says that it's all about the base coat of paint. SO true.

So anyway. Things are looking up. It's Easter, and I do love this particular holiday. His sacrifice puts my problems in perspective as trivial and petty, comparatively. Plus, I made myself a new Easter dress, and always enjoy the coloring and hunting eggs aspect of the weekend.

So have a happy Easter, and may the Easter bunny bring you all the Cadbury creme eggs your heart desires.

(Carrie and the children run through the morning routine, hair combing, breakfast eating, tooth brushing, and she explains the schedule for later in the day.)

Carrie. So when you get home from school, I'll have packed your bag and I'll take you out to Grandma's and Grandpa's house for the weekend.

Ethan. (Frowns) But Dad's gone.

Carrie. (has only had a sip of coffee at this point in the morning) Mmmhm.

Ethan. If dad's gone, then who'll protect you if the zombies attack? I'm in charge of that when he's gone.

Carrie. There's going to be a zombie attack this weekend? And you're in charge of what, exactly?

Ethan. There might be a zombie attack this weekend. And I'm in charge of shooting them. You don't know how to shoot a gun.

Carrie. And you do?

Ethan. I can figure it out. If you're not protected, they'll get you.

Aaron. (Munches on toast) Makes sense.

Carrie. (under breath) None of this makes sense.

Ethan. I'll stay, just in case.

Carrie. No, pumpkin, I'll be fine.

Ethan. (Frowns) Are you sure?

Carrie. (Wishes to God for having drunk more coffee before having this conversation) Yes. Katie and Abbey (the Labrador retrievers) are here. They'll protect me.

Ethan. Katie would, but Abbey will be worthless.

Aaron. (munches on toast) That's true.

****

( Just another Friday at our house. )

Even though I didn't plan it, I seem to be busy. Really Busy.

I'm pleasantly sore from all the workouts I've been doing to reduce in the name of South Pacific, waist deep in research for costuming Eurydice (now that I understand it, I think I may like it. Still not sure, though),preparing and rehearsing for a women's retreat drama mid-September, dance rehearsals and blocking rehearsals for South Pacific, managing to do the HGC diet without wanting to pull my (or anyone else's) hair out*, writing a little and sewing, painting and keeping the house from exploding with dirt.

I am woman, hear me roar, etc.

We're getting our new bed delivered today. I could NOT be more happy. I still need to document the drama that is The Bed. Gracious. It's an epic freaking saga.

The children have been gone since Sunday, and they return this afternoon. I've missed them! But the house is really clean. And quiet. ;)

---

* Actually, I'd sell my grandmother for some queso. And you know how I love my grandmother.

Okay. I have an admission to make. I'm vain about my hair.

I've known that for some time. What I didn't realize was just how vain I am about my kids' hair.

Nolan took Ethan out running errands on Saturday. Evidently they went to the den of mediocrity that is Sports Clips, and long story (which includes a Dennis the Menace comparison, an absentee stylist and some exceedingly bad judgment) short, they both came home looking like someone used a weed whacker to cut their hair.

I normally take the boys to my hair girl, the brilliant and very kind Arviel at the salon 'Reds'. We missed their cut appointment a week and a half ago, and I guess Ethan had enough of hair in his eyes.

I'm glad school pictures aren't for another few months.

The topper, though? Last night about ten minutes before our dinner guests came over, Aaron CUT HIS BANGS AN INCH FROM HIS SCALP.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY???? HE'S EIGHT YEARS OLD! Rassafrassinfrassin kid.

I wanted to wring his cute little neck. I restrained myself, so no one call CPS. Luckily, Arviel is going to work us in tomorrow morning to try to repair the damage. Nothing can be done about the tragedy that is Ethan's hair.

Yeah. Vain.

From now on, we're ALL going to Arviel. Nolan included.

That's all.

On Easter Sunday, I started a series of watercolor paintings representing the Fruits of the Spirit. My intent was to finish these during the revival week that we had at the church, but alas, as often happens, I bit off a bit more than I could chew. Does that ever happen to anyone else? My expectations for myself are always a bit higher than I manage to reach.

Anyway, the way I work is that I get inspiration from images... sometimes I paint from memory or mental inspiration, and sometimes I paint from a picture of something I like. I printed off several images to paint during the services, and worked steadily through. Funnily enough, the one I was most concerned about was Self-Control. I had no idea how to paint self control, so I 'Google Imaged' it. One of the things that popped up was the Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

Ethan. That looks like your style, Mom. You could totally paint that.

Me. (raises my eyebrow) You think?

There's nothing like the blind faith of a ten year-old boy in the talents of his mother. In any case, I'm no Michelangelo, and know my limitations. I went ahead with the plan, even though it took me much longer than I thought it would, (even without bastardizing something once commissioned by The Pope) and I got through Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Gentleness, Goodness and was working on Self-Control when someone came up to look at my progress so far. The words "I'm on my last one," were out of my mouth before I realized...

I completely forgot Kindness.

Well, crap. I'm hoping that this isn't God telling me I need to be aware of the bigger picture in my life, but, you know, I'm afraid it just might be.

So... Kindness. Fine. I'll work on it. And I'll paint it, too, whatever it happens to be.

I'd given them a 'Who What Where' Acting improvisation scene, randomly drawn from a hat. Such as: A princess, making candles, on an African safari. Their task was to create a believable character in the midst of extraordinary situations. The results stretch them as actors and lets face it, they're always entertaining. And I'm all about being entertained while I work. They were rehearsing in groups of three, where the three improbable characters were in the same scene. One group had a terrorist, a queen, and a bullfighter playing cards in an elevator. They're supposed to plan, discuss and rehearse and then perform.

---

Tall Kid. So... an elevator.

Goth Girl. Yeah.

Rule Follower. Where are we going to be?

Tall Kid. In an elevator, dude.

Rule Follower. No, I meant what country.

Goth Girl. I'm the Queen, so let's be in England.

Tall Kid. Man, I can't be from England, I'm a terrorist.

Rule Follower. Why not?

Tall Kid. An English Terrorist? Are you kidding? That's like... an oxymoron! (Adopts very posh upper class British accent) Oh, pardon me, I'm frightfully sorry, would you mind terribly if I blew you all up? Thanks ever so much.

Goth Girl. That's brilliant.

Rule follower. Hysterical. Yeah. You are so doing that.

---

Maybe not politically correct, but those moments are one of the reasons that I'm in my seventh year at this academy. These kids are funny.

*********
(Ethan and Nolan are playing the Nazi Zombie level at the End of Call of Duty : World at War, and this was the conversation they just had:)
Nolan:  Guard the door, son, guard the door!

Ethan:  Okay!  (Sounds of gunshots, zombies growling)

Nolan:  Guard the window!

Ethan:  Dad?

Nolan (Groans from the exertion or WAR) Yes, son?

Ethan.   If the zombies are dead, how do they know where we are?

Nolan.  Because they can smell our brains!

Ethan:  That is SO gross.

***
Because THAT's not going to give him nightmares.  And I have to agree with Ethan.  That is SO gross. 

They're having a GREAT time.

And found the first issue of National Geographic Kids subscription that Aaron got for his birthday.

( In my own mailbox. Mocking me. )
I actually didn't see it until we got home, and I saw Ethan sneak something to Aaron behind his back. Never a good sign.

Me. What have you got?

Aaron. Nothing, mom.

Me. Ethan, what did you give him?!

Ethan. Trust me mom, you don't want to know.

Me. (uses 'mom' voice) Give. It. To. Me.

( the 'mom' voice is irrefutable, so they had no choice but to hand it over. Which they did.)

Me. (screams, shouts, growls, mild, child-appropriate swears)

Aaron. Why don't you like dolphins again, Mom?

Me. Uh... I'll tell you when you're older.

---

As far as other things going on in and about fandom, I'll say that I'm too angry, too upset and too disappointed in so many things that I really don't want to talk to most anyone about anything. When I'm completely calm, I'll revisit the situation. Maybe. If I feel like it, and if I still feel as if the people involved are worth the time and energy needed to post.

I still say: If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.