♛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. :)
Her name is Christine, and she lives in my mother's GPS.

The name Christine is a nod to Mr, King, of course.

(My name is not, FYI.)

Seriously, though, I've driven all over the Metroplex this week. I went to Dallas to see David, Ft. Worth to see Kristi and Sally, Hurst to see Deadra, and Irving to see Cherie and Rachel. These folks run the gamut of pals from my very oldest friend that I've known since we were three, to a former student of mine that just graduated with her theatre degree.

But to go all these places and not succumb to my truly hopeless sense of direction (Nolan says that I can't find my butt with two hands and a flashlight), my mother leant me her GPS.

I've learned that a GPS is a truly helpful thing. It's a bit unnerving, though, the first time you hear the placid, disembodied voice telling you, "In 1.8 miles, turn left." It gives you sort of a big brother vibe, all rolled up with the creepiness of the book about the 1958 Plymouth Fury come to life.

And even though she's truly a help, there's always room for operator error. If the girl said, "Recalculating," once, she said it four hundred times. I evidently don't follow directions very well. She got huffy a few times, and I swear I heard her roll her eyes more than once, but for the most part, she's a lot like me. She repeats herself ( a lot) when she doesn't get a response, gets a little irritated when things don't go her way, and shuts up when things are good.

I like her. I don't need one, given that I can drive anywhere I need to in my hometown in less than 20 minutes. But if I lived here, I sure would. I'd even have one built into the car, maybe.

As long as it wasn't a Fury.
So today was a fantastic day. I mean, I did a little shopping, got a pedicure, saw my husband unexpectedly just before lunch and got a kiss... just really and truly all-around awesome.

You know when I say these things, when I'm too positive, there is always a very large BUT. (Much like my own. Har dee har har.)

I was zipping along I-40 after a Doctor's appointment, needing to get a quick lunch before I picked Aaron up at theatre camp, when my eyes lit upon a sushi place that I'm fond of, but don't go to very often because the husband and the kiddos aren't fans.

I am, though. I LOVE sushi. Big time.

So, like so many other things that happen in my life, on a whim, I stop at the sushi place and go in to sit at the bar. I brought in the 5th Diana Gabaldon book (which I'm still powering through) and ordered my sushi and settled in for a lovely, if solitary lunch.

I asked the server about the special on the board at the front. All I heard was shrimp, lobster and avocado and then a bunch of other stuff that I didn't understand. I held up my hand, ever the continental sushi-orderer, and said, "You had me at shrimp, lobster and avocado. Bring me one of those and a spicy crunchy salmon roll."

I had a great time, alternately reading my book and watching the sushi chef do his thing. The salmon was wonderful, as ever, and the special (The GOLDEN DRAGON) was really, stupendously good. Possibly one of the best rolls I'd ever had. Beautiful, too. Art on a plate. I got full, though and left two of the rolls, feeling satisfied and happy. Until the server brought me the bill.

The "special" on the board? The one that I didn't let him finish explaining about because I thought the language/accent barrier was too much to power through? It was $38.00. Thirty-eight American dollars, y'all. For LUNCH. And that doesn't count the iced tea and the other $7 salmon roll. All of which I stopped for on a whim.

[Here is where you can imagine my husband shouting, "YOU SPENT HOW MUCH?? ON LUNCH?! CARRIE LEIGH!!]

Sorry, baby. Won't happen again.

Probably. It was really, really good, though. ;)

But after I signed the bill, you'll be pleased to know that I sure did fire down those last two rolls.

I felt as if I had to. I owed it to the sushi gods.

And my pocketbook.
★ I have a day ahead of doctor visits. I like these particular doctors as people, but still. I'd rather be tied up, gagged and dragged behind a truck on a gravel road than go.

★ Oh, barista at the coffee shop, do not pretend you don't know what "medium" means. Every one of those shops calls it something different, and I'm not bending to their collective wills. MEDIUM. Do not look at me with a confused puppy face. You can figure this out on your own. Try harder.

★ It's Thursday, and really my favorite day of the week. Even after 8 years of teaching for the ALT Academy and fifteen years (WOAH. I've been teaching for fifteen years? When did that happen?) of teaching adolescents, I still really, really love it. It's the highlight of the week, most times. They're talented and funny and WANT to be there, which is indeed the most important thing. And they're not worried about making utter fools of themselves, which is KEY for theatre. Thursday also means Bones, and thus David Boreanaz. Yet another perk. :D

★ I locked myself out of the house before eight o'clock this morning. I got back in because I am a ninja. That's a picture for you, right? Me scaling the back porch ceiling and dropping through a window? We'll just say that's what I did to get back in.

★ Rehearsals are better. Still not fantastic, but better. I left smiling instead of crying last night, so I'm hopeful for the rest of the week.

★ I made these for home group last night. They were a hit! And cute, which is really why I wanted to make them in the first place.

Easy cookie recipe... )

★ There's a quote (a Chinese proverb, maybe?) that I've had on my theatre folder for years. "Tell me what you love, and I'll tell you who you are." What do you love? Think about it. It's all deep and stuff.
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! )
I don't know if I can actually do this justice.

I'm going to try.

Ranty cut. )

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!




In the interest of being all scientifical, I entered in a few different samples to the "I write like" website. For my current WIP piece of fluffy fanfiction, I got J.K.Rowling. Well enough, I thought, I am trying to emulate her style, there.

For my novel and three other original short stories, I got David F. Wallace. *points up* I have to admit, I googled him. If the website is going to say I write like the dude, I want to know who he is. His best known novel is a mix of hysterical realism, satire and comedy, so I think that pretty much hits it on the nose for me, generally speaking.

HOWEVER, when I put in the last thing I wrote for church - a piece on the Song of Solomon, Mr. Website spat out Chuck Palahniuk. Chuck Palahniuk, author of 'Fight Club.'

Song of Solomon, Fight Club. Song of Solomon, Fight Club. I thought about it for a looooong time (almost 45 seconds!) and I don't see it. Sorry.

And crap, I talked about Fight Club, so.... *looks around for Brad Pitt*

(That'd be cool, wouldn't it? If you broke rules one and two and he showed up? Like some sort of bruised and battered fairy fightmother.)


And then, for a play I co-wrote a few years ago, about superheroes in mediation and counseling, I got Agatha Christie.

Um.

So, in short, I don't support this site 100%. I'd say I support it 37%.

But it was kinda fun to analyze it all, nonetheless.
★ I worry about myself.

★ I just spent about a good minute trying to remember what those orange vegetables are called... you know, the ones with the green tops that Bugs Bunny eats?

★ *headdesk*

★ When Nolan told AJ that he was 'a couple of cans short of a six pack' this weekend, Aaron lifted his shirt, looked at his tummy and replied, "I don't have a six pack. I don't even have a four pack."

★ I finished plotting out a WIP. That's so very gratifying. Wrote a drabble for [livejournal.com profile] hp_humpdrabbles, and sent new chapter for for editing. I'm ALL accomplished. The writing drought is officially over. Whew. Thank goodness. I was getting a little mopey about it. I'm looking around for an rpg to write for, but can't find any that need whom I'm willing to write. :)

★ I've been sewing the heck out of a strapless, sparkly dress for Kiss of the Spider Woman. I'm thinking about making one for myself (minus the sparkly, spidery vibe) for the cruise I'm going on in February.

★ We're going on a cruise in February! I CAN'T WAIT.

★ I learned that friends are still friends even when we don't talk every day.

★ The scale won't move past thirteen pounds. I'd love to have lost 20 by the time we get on the boat. Lose it! is still my BFF. Counting calories and exercising. Go figure. :P Twenty-two more pounds to go.

★ Bond girls were curvier in the sixties. For that matter, so were women in during the renaissance. When did stick thin become what everyone wanted to be?

★ I learned that friends are still friends even when we don't talk every day.

★ Nolan just pointed out that James Bond must not have had to worry about STD's. He was kind of trampy. (But hot. Er, that's MY observation, not his.)

★ I need a new camera. Like, bad.

★ What do we think of Miss Me jeans? I tried some on and yes, they look great, but a hundred and something bucks is a lot to drop on a pair of pants, you know? And certainly not til I'm in the single digits, size wise.

★ It's distressing to have principles, at times.

★ That's it. My Sunday evening roundup. Do you have any news?


Merry, merry!
Get THAT stuck in your head.

For the first time in my 20+ year acting career, I've lost my script. It had the schedules, a copy of Eurydice, my music and my blocking and my lines in it. I NEED IT BACK.

I had it when I was walking out of the theatre after dance rehearsal on Sunday, and now it's gone. Shoot. Me. Now.

WHERE IS IT?

ETA:  I found it in the theatre on the apron of the stage.  *headdesk*  I could have SWORN I carried it out.

And Eurydice was on my bedside table.  *sigh*

I might be losing it.
persephone33: (i got lost)
( Jul. 24th, 2010 11:41 pm)
Wherein I discuss snoring, tans, state of the bed, jam, diets, big thighs, my immense dorkiness and Commercials on TNT )

Now aren't you glad you read all that? Aren't you a better person for knowing it all?

No?

Well, at least you got to see my new layout. :) Goodnight.
† I am uninspired by the blue strawberry. *frowns* Everything I've started out writing is blerghy. I do like the quote, though. Also, did not get kicked out on the first round. *confetti throw*

† Mosquitoes are from the devil. I've been having a weird reaction to them this year. The bite area gets really red and swollen and hot, and then it hurts for a few days. Also - bug spray is gross.

† Made strawberry balsamic jam, two batches of blueberry peach, and plain peach jam over the past few days. I think I'm done being the pioneer woman, for awhile.

† It's impossible to keep my home clean and orderly with the boys home. They are a whirling tornado of sloppiness that have waaaaay more energy than I do. If I told them to clean up every mess they make, I'd just be cleaning constantly. And yelling all the time... so... School starts in a month. *nods*

† My house is too big. By the time I'm done really giving it a good go, cleaning wise, it's time to start over. No, Nolan, I don't want to move.

† Saw Despicable Me Friday with the kiddos. I laughed a little, I suppose. And little Agnes was cuuuuute ("It's so fluffy, I'm gonna DIE!"), but overall, I'd give it a meh.

† My mom's in Russia right now, and they didn't take their cell phones or laptop, so are unreachable for the next 10 days. It's not like I NEED my mother; I'm 37 years old for crying out loud, but knowing I can't talk to her is irritating. She and Tom are taking a cruise down a river in Russia, though. Sounds cool, right?

And now, for your reading pleasure, here's a story in which I humiliate both myself and a fourteen year-old boy simultaneously. *curtsies*

Get a coke. This one is sort of long. )
  • The boys had an awesome time at golf and tennis camp.  They are tanner and blonder and worn out, but happy.
  • I did some fun shopping with mom, got to cook with my little sister, fix my niece's gorgeous hair, argue the semantics of a properly drawn sun with my nephew, absconded with some custom made pottery from my Tom, drank a bottle of wine with my girlfriend and discovered my BIL's sense of humor.
  • Traffic.  Good heavens.  It took 30 minutes to get out of Arlington today, and another 45 to get out of the metroplex.  How the heck did I ever live there?  I 35 has got to be on one of the rings of hell.
  • Also, the heat.  The heeeeaaat.  The humidity.  The freakin' mosquitoes.  Good heavens above.  My skin may dry out on the caprock, but at least my hair looks good. ;)
  • I slipped an fell (on my face!) on Mom and Tom's deck this morning and I'm a mass of aches and pains.  Man, I feel old.  Knee and shoulder are not working properly, even after having been iced down after it happened.
  • The boys and I listened to Deathly Hallows on the way home.  Six hours of listening to Jim Dale, and we're not even to the 500 page camping trip.  Long winded much, JK?
  • I like Jim's character voices, but his narration voice drives me cuh-razy.  Also, his Hermione voice. "Harrrrryyyyyyyyy!."  Good gracious.  Do people talk like that?
  • Six hours in a car.  I stopped in a drive through for dinner and the boys ran in for a pit stop, but I realized once I was home that I never got out of the car, from Arlington to Amarillo.
  • We got a new mattress while I was away, apparently.  The Carrie and Nolan bed saga (with a MPAA rating of PG)  deserves a post of its own.  For now, I'm going to say, "Um... no."
  • I took two Advil Pm about 30 minutes ago (so I could sleep through the aches and pains from my idiotic fall) and it's like typing with gloves on.  Lots of backspacing.
  • It's good to be home.  I'd say it was great to be in my own bed... but this ain't it.
  • Since I'm about to crash face first into the laptop, (twice in one day on my face would be a bit much, methinks) I'll bid everyone a good night and happy weekend!
*crashZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz*
So. I'm a seamstress. I sew. Before you pass judgment and go, "LAME!" let me explain. I only sew really, really cool stuff. Or stuff that can be used in cool ways. Stuff that I like.

Yeah, maybe it is lame. Read on if you aren't convinced I'm destined for "dorkiest" at my 20 year (gag) high school reunion. Oooh. I hope they don't give out that award. That would SUCK.

Again, I digress. I'm here to tell you a story. And let me preface with this: if I had actually leaned the fundamentals of sewing from my mother, I wouldn't be in this mess. My mother has always sewed. She made me a lot of cute clothes when I was little, along with some unfortunate culottes, but, hey. It was the eighties. What could she do?

I didn't learn to sew from mom. And even if she'd tried to teach me, I wouldn't have let myself BE taught from her. It's like cooking. Our personalities don't mesh well in academia. In other ways, we get on great, just not when she's trying to tell me what to do. Because I automatically want to do it MY WAY; and MY WAY, though well intended, never works as well as Her Way. Probably 'cause she's the mom and has 24 years on me.

Dang it, I digressed again.And it's not for me, either. )
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: (The Winchesters look disgusted)
( Feb. 4th, 2010 03:38 pm)
I killed Aidan. I killed Aidan because I can't turn my head to the right.

Um... Hey, Carrie Leigh, want to explain?

Sure thing, y'all. I'll do my best.

Aidan is my super cute and sexy HP Pavillion laptop, for those of you who were considering calling 911 and reporting a murder.

So the story is that I woke up with a stabbing pain in my neck/back (Again, I say to you twenty somethings, ENJOY your youthful body. About 35 things start breaking). And so I plugged my heating pad into the same extension cord as Aidan and when I went to adjust said pad so that I wasn't in excruciating, stabbing OHMYGOSHTHISSTINKINGHURTS pain, Aidan took a swan dive and landed on the lovely, distressed and very hard hardwood floor of my bedroom.

*tragic wail*

He's with Matt the Computer Guy now, and in good hands. But I'm afraid, my friends, that he isn't going to pull through this one. He didn't look good at all. If a laptop could've been pale, he would have been.

After I took Aidan to the hospital, I went to the chiropractor, and he cracked stuff, I whimpered, stuck these electroshock thingies on me, I whimpered, and then sprayed Biofreeze in the general vicinity of my neck and back, and I howled. It currently feels as if my back is aflame. I want to go throw myself into the nearest snowbank and make it GO AWAY.

Instead I've got some ice and another appointment on Monday. And no laptop. *another tragic wail* So if I'm scarce, that's why.

Now I'm off to teach acting to the children of Amarillo. Have a better day than I have, everyone!
Yesterday afternoon in the car driving across town, Ethan decides that all of my CDs are not worth listening to (I think I've not taken any out of the changer for a year), takes my ipod out of my purse and plugs it into the tape deck converter thingy, then in the time it would have taken me to discover that the little orange "hold" button is on, clicks his way to Journey's Greatest Hits, and informs me that he and some friends are singing "Don't Stop Believing" for their talent show.

Glee. The great music equalizer.

He informed me that no, he did most certainly did not need my help with choreography. *huffs*

That isn't the point of the story, though. We're driving along, singing at the top of our lungs (me having illicit thoughts about Cory Monteith and Ethan doing a passable Steve Perry), ignoring the eye rolling going on in Aaron's corner of the car, when Ethan abruptly stops the music.

And informs me that I'm singing the wrong words.

I say something along the lines of "Oh, ho, little blond boy who is nine years old! You think you know better than I who had this album on vinyl and then tape and then CD? You think you know better than me?"

All this said in a very smug Iknowmorethanyou tone of voice.

Turns out, he did in fact know more than me. Since 1981, or as near to that as I was allowed to listen to rock music, I thought the words were "I've seen her in a smokey room... the smell of wine and cheap perfume." As it happens, the lyrics are "A singer in a smokey room...." What the hell, Journey? ENUNCIATE the next time you release one of my favorite songs so thirty something women don't have to watch their nine year-old sons do the "I was right" dance. (Which he totally gets from his father.)

Okay? That'd be great. Thanks muchly.
persephone33: (Angry bear)
( Nov. 17th, 2009 02:12 pm)
I like to pretend that I'm still young and hip and cutting edge. But let's face it. It's a sham. I've been putting an a false face to all of you for some time now. I'm living a lie, and it's time for me to come clean.

My name is Carrie, and I can't figure out how to work my damn cell phone.

About two months ago, I got a Blackberry Pearl. (I loatheloatheloathe the thing. With a deep and abiding malevolent passion.) I find myself looking at it and screaming, "AAAAAAHHHHH!" a lot. Nolan got himself an iphone (for business he says), but I got stuck with this damnable POS Blackberry. Today I tried to call Nolan, using the speed dial shortcut thingy, and ended up calling my cousin Beth instead. I mean, it was fantastic to talk to her, but, RAWR! Freaking phone. I feel like my dad, who is paralyzed by all things electronic.

I've watched the tutorial TWICE, and tried to read about what it is that I'm doing wrong. I can't stand when it guesses what word I'm about to type, I figured out how to stop that once, but can't seem to make it stop again. I've browsed the web, looked at my email, but I can't get the facebook app to work.

Don't even get me started on texting. It says I've received three, BUT I CAN'T GET TO THEM. I've yet to successfully SEND one. Bad words. Bad, freaking, punk-ass words.

It doesn't ring loud enough for me to hear, even on its loudest setting, it's so sensitive that I can't put it in my purse without having to lock the stinking keyboard (I will not even go into what a production THAT was) and the worst part? IT CALLS PEOPLE ALL BY ITSELF. I don't know; call me crazy, but I'd like to be the sentient being in the relationship!

*sigh*

1. Mexican Wedding Cookies are the best EVAR.
2. Nano word count is on target.
3. Ethan proclaims me acceptable for running lines for his play, saying that I'm better even than Blakely (10 year-old neighbor girl). He said, "But you probably have more stage experience." *cough* Just a bit, yeah, kid, thanks.
.

Profile

persephone33: (Default)
persephone33

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Powered by Dreamwidth Studios

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags