hurrah for the lamb or post 100

My new favorite song learned at Indian Neck from the lovely goat whisperer above. It's apparently a Civil War era song. The Open School kid in me wants to teach it to everyone I know, but I think I'll probably just teach it to my organizing step-sister.

Such beauty and big feeling in CT. Still unpacking it all.

Moving to a new apartment in two weeks, big sis put on bed rest needing lots of help, Chris Bayes workshop three days after we move... I think Mary and her lamb are gonna march me through to the other side.

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MARY HAD A LITTLE LAMB

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow
And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, Mary went
Everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

It followed her to school one day, school one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day, which was against the rules
And when the teacher turned it out, kicked it out, shoved it out
And when the teacher kicked it out, it --pffft-- against the wall

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

Mary had a little lamb, a little lamb, a little lamb
Mary had a little lamb, her father shot it dead
Now Mary takes her lamb to school, lamb to school, lamb to school
Mary takes her lamb to school between two slabs of bread

Hurrah for Mary, hurrah for the lamb
Hurrah for the Union boys who did not give a damn
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go
Shouting the battlecry of freedom

sunning sock

Sweet P is in constant search for colorful men's clothes that are not of the polo or Hawaiian shirt variety. Why men feel their masculinity won't be threatened by bright colors as long as they look like they could be on a golf course or on vacation is beyond me. What about the men who enjoy sweaters, button ups an t-shirts? And worse, what about the men who require a Tall Large or a size 13 to fit their frames and feet? "Here's some navy blue and hunter green! Those non-colors will best fit the huge canvas you've provided."

While he has been able to scout out more colorful sweaters and shirts, footwear continues to be the bain of his mission. Yes, argyle exists, but it tends to fall under the acceptable "kooky" dressing choice that Hawaiian shirts fall under. Yes, bright athletic shoes exist, but Sweet P is not, nor will he ever be, a big Black basketball player. I know. It crushed his childhood dreams when he realized he'd never be Black, because clearly the trifecta was key.

So, I'm knitting him some bright socks. I mean look at those! Yow! Hurts your eyes a little! But lets remember that when the sweet little sales lady at Nordstroms asked him what sort of pink he wanted for his groomsmen's ties he answered, without irony, "Really fucking pink." He takes color seriously and those are some serious socks.

We opened My Ántonia in Detroit Lakes on Saturday. It went well. I don't know if it's the show, the people or Ántonia herself, but I seem to be crawling out of the crippling fear that has clouded my work for the past two plus years. My dad always tells me I'm good at suffering, so working on a long suffering character that very healthily chooses life and forward motion rather than regret has put me in, forgive the phrase, a good headspace. I feel light and full. I feel the very color of feather. I feel myself walking back into the Emily shaped space. I don't want to jinx it, but I feel a little proud.

I continue to book work on a less frequent basis, but feel it a blessing more and more since it leaves space for creating my own opportunities. I've long made my own privilege and it feels good to be forced to make it again.

Meanwhile, I'll merrily jump on our tour bus and knit my way to the next venue when we are privileged to share Ántonia and Jim's glorious story. Catch us when we're in Minneapolis:

My Ántonia
adapted by Alison Moore
directed by Michael Robins
presented by Illusion Theatre at The Cowles Center

Thursday, February 16, 2012 at 10:00AM
Friday, February 17, 2012 at 8:00PM
Saturday, February 18, 2012 at 8:00PM
Sunday, February 19, 2012 at 7:00PM

warm red glow

It's Thursday, which means Gussy's Inspiration Workshop. This week's prompt is Holiday Decor.

Sweet P always wanted a light up yard Santa, so when his dad bought him one he carried it proudly around Menards like a little kid with a puppy. We've been so busy we haven't found a moment to do any decorating, but after Sweet P had a particularly awful day I thought Santa would be just the thing to cheer him up. Lacking a yard I set him on a little chair in the entryway and plugged him in. I love the warm red glow he makes in the hallway. And in Sweet P.

how-to survive the holidays

This year I have the great honor of working on A Christmas Carol at the Guthrie. This is their 37th production and my second. I forgot what a grueling schedule it is. We opened last Wednesday after a week of 10-12 hour tech rehearsals and previews, had Thursday off for Thanksgiving and rounded out the weekend with 6 shows in 3 days. I'm tired. And I'm not even Scrooge.

Not surprisingly, one can get a bit Scroogian in one's feelings toward Christmas mirth. Luckily, luckily, there are the little girls in velvet dresses. They sit there in the audience trying desperately to stay in their own seats like big girls, but the Ghost of Marley appears and forces them into the safe laps of their parents. It's the first play they've ever seen and while they may not remember the experience later, they will never forget it. I love those little girls in velvet dresses because they remind me how thrilling live performance is and that, in fact, it still thrills me -- even during the 6th show in 3 days.

There is a tremendous tradition created and upheld by one of the long time Christmas Carol cast members of participating in the Adopt-a-Family program. The entire Carol company is assigned a family in need, tasked with donating/raising money, shopping for the items on the family's Wishlists, wrapping the mountain of resulting presents (which is then celebrated with a chili cook off) and delivering the bounty to the family in time for Christmas. They are often referred to as The Cratchit Family; a tangible reminder of Dickens' words:

But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -- apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that -- as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time: the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, 'God bless it!'

In a divorced family holidays are always hectic and tricky. The chaos grows when one gets married and gets trickier when one works long holiday hours. Ultimately, it's the traditions that get me through the stress of the holiday season. I know that I will eat Egg Dish with my mom. I know that I will get an ornament from my dad. It doesn't matter where or when those two things happen, just that they will happen. Those two traditions act like a beacon in the chaos; like star in the field.

come hell and high water sweet p will lean his face on his guitar

Once upon a time my beautiful Sweet P was in a play with his guitar. The play was called Come Hell and High Water created by The MovingCompany.

kitties take advantage of the turkey day resting period

I'd intended to link up to Gussy Sews Inspiration Workshop, but Christmas Carol tech got in the way... At any rate, here's my post!

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Thanksgiving is my Dad's favorite holiday.

When I was a kid we would walk down our snowy street to the neighbors' Thaksgiving. It was always full of rowdy kids, joyful adults and mountains of food. The Grandfather of the family was a retired, blind piano tuner. His familiar and forgotten melodies created the cozy backdrop for our grateful holiday. We kids would play hide and seek while the adults cooked and visited. They always called it visiting.

After my parents got divorced that Thanksgiving tradition, like so many other things, never felt comfortable again. But, like so many other things, we moved on and created new traditions.

I remember making Thanksgiving dinner for my Norwegian friends my first year in NYC. I didn't think to order a turkey, so we had Cornish game hens.

I remember the year I flew home to surprise everyone.

I remember my friends squeezing 20 or so artistic orphans into their Brooklyn apartment. I think I sat at the table on an exercise ball.

Last year we hosted my whole family for the first time. Sweet P read Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclimation and wept his way through a prayer. Lily took a nap with Dad before the pie corse. Everyone went home with a Tupperware full of leftovers. I felt like a real adult.

My Dad's townhouse is all renovated so we're back at his house for his favorite feast. I wish I could bring Lily along to take advantage of the resting period.

when i grow up

Pencil Vs Camera - 47, originally uploaded by Ben Heine.

Sweet P and I talk a lot about vocation and calling. He reminded me that when he was a kid he told his dad he wanted to be a big black basketball player when he grew up. His brother wanted to grow up to be short and fat.

What did you want to be?

In other news, after one round of face washing I am a total convert to Paula's Choice products. My skin looks clearer and feels like baby cheeks after ONE WASH! I mean... maybe I'll start selling it.

this is how we spend our mornings

The mic on my iPad isn't working so you'll have to provide your own sound track. I scanned down my legs, not for scandalous reasons, but to show that her tail is all tucked in. Lily is such a funny little ball of fat and fur. She insists on sitting in your lap and being pet. She follows you around the house and yells at you for not providing a lap to be pet in. She cries like a hound dog when Sweet P leaves the house.

In other news, based on many conversations like the one below, I am back on the no sugar, dairy or gluten diet. Albeit slowly. I haven't gone cold turkey yet since we still have the offending food stuffs in our kitchen and I loathe wasting food.

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Eryn: I am sooooo with you in this boat. A few years back I saw an acupuncturist and it actually helped. That and he recommended an "allergy season diet" - which helped even more. No wheat, dairy or sugar from first symptoms till first frost. It makes me cry every time I see a pancake - but much less sneezing is worth it.

Emily: I've been thinking that. Ugh. It was an awful night last night. 2 benedryl didn't make a dent, slept sitting up, sneezed every 10 seconds until I passed out. I think I'd better seriously consider the allergy sea on diet. It's made a big difference, eh?

Eryn: Night and day. Went from practically mainlining Allegra 180 PLUS Singulair and still being sneezy and miserable for 3 months to only taking the singulair on particularly bad days.

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In other, other news as a part of my campaign to remain artistically courageous I'm working through the Linklater book with a friend. He drew some particularly funny "how I see my voice now" and "how I want to see my voice" pictures while gently faux weeping. If nothing else it will be fun.

Sweet P and I continue to talk next steps and alternately experience the future as insurmountable and wide open. Luckily we're able to trade off being the ballast while the other flails. God bless my perfect partner.

f'ing ragweed

FenceFriday_Sept17_Weed or Flower?, originally uploaded by Aartje_S.

This is one of those days where I wish I could turn my head inside out and give the itchy bits a good rinse.

On the other hand I got to see my in laws for a wonderful brunch and my daddy for his 63rd birthday.

It's a mixed bag day.

a touch of light on the green field in upper austria

A touch of light on the green field in upper Austria, originally uploaded by B℮n.

Sweet P is out of town at his sister's wedding and the longing for him is just awful. It's been fun to stay out late with my "gentlemen callers", but 2 days of it has been more than enough. I want my husband to come home now.

I was called in to rehearsal yesterday and immediately sent away, then told to wait in the hall until they needed me after all. For some other worldly reason -- probably rooted in my longing -- I watched part of Hannah and Her Sisters while I waited. So beautiful. And Sweet P's favorite.

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somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings

pear jammy pants

Six years ago today, while walking the Freedom Trail in Boston, I fell in love with the fist boy I ever kissed.

In honor of the day I made him some jammy pants that are actually long enough for his 6'4" frame. I'm not a particularly adept seamstress... let's just say I learned a lot.

happy birthday sweet p

on the mend

on the move, originally uploaded by manyfires.

I have a cold.

I haven't been sick in quite a long time. In fact, I'm not sure I can remember the last time. When compared with ongoing bouts of IBS, rosacea, psoriasis and allergies, suffering from "just a cold" is rather comforting. Unlike my various "syndromes" I know that the cold had a cause and I know that it will end -- just like a real disease! I proudly bought myself tissues with aloe and a penguin shaped humidifier to combat my simple cold. I am greedily resting on my day off while the last dregs of mucus slide their way off my vocal folds. Ah. Just a cold.

I watched 2 pretty incredible movies last night:

The Social Network and Dear Zachary: a Letter to a Son About His Father

Both completely different, but both touching on the human search for identity and justice. Sweet P and I chattered late into the night about potential -- how to reach for it, how to identify what it might even be, how to get on the elusive track. I find, even though I am steeped in my career, I worry that I'm becoming lazy. Should I be teaching? Should I be taking classes? Should I be looking for work out of town? Should I be figuring out how to make money when I want to have a baby? Am I doing everything I can? And toward what goal?

I don't know. I don't know.

What I do know is that I have a simple cold, that my 5 year old cousin made me a crayon drawn book, that I am honored to be in the presence of the stellar artists deeply exploring The Winter's Tale...

... and that my grandpa had a pet pig named Sue.

my first thanksgiving hosting for my family

 15 pound herb butter stuffed beauty.

 The tables -- places for 14.

 The organized buffet -- pre-food.

The plentiful buffet. 

 Per reading President Lincoln's Thanksgiving Proclamation and praying -- to appeal to both the faithful and political natures of our merry band.

 The feast.

 The resting period -- kitties don't need resting periods, they just like to take advantage of them.

The pies.

sheldon and the real animals

To wade my way through rehearsals (and because a friend commissioned him) I have just completed another Sheldon. The commissioner is knitting the blankey that accompanies Sheldon so she ordered all of the necessary yarn from Knit Picks and had it delivered to my house. I'd never gotten yarn in the mail before and when it arrived, though I only got to keep 2 skeins of it, I felt like I'd won the lottery! One of these days I'll actually manage to win a Knitty Giveaway and I'll get another package of joy in the mail.

At any rate, here he is on the rehearsal butcher block for The Master Butchers Singing Club. He received encouragement from the whole team so I thought this photo the most apporpriate for his portfolio representation.

The show is hard. I think that's all I want to say about that right now.

In other news, Mom, Sweet P and I went to the Como Park Zoo to see the baby giraffe. I'm not entirely sure what is up with my affinity for the prehistoric, black tongued beauties, but I squealed like a little girl when we rounded the corner and caught sight of them. 

We also cooed over the big sleepy cats (who look not unlike my little sleepy cats), breathed in the plant life and marveled at the bonsai. 

only not just now. now i need to rest my weary head

I don't want to talk about:

the burst blood vessel in my thumb

the infected spider bite on my boob

or the 1% that cost MAK and JG the primary.

I do want to talk about:

the new baby giraffe at the Como Park Zoo

the thrilling project that is exhausting me daily

and my brand new married sister and brother-in-law.

i am exceedingly proud today

nothing grows in our garden

Under Milk Wood, Nothing grows in our garden, only babies and washing, originally uploaded by jolie-coeur.

Had another pregnant dream last night.

I went into labor and had strong, painful, crampy contractions every few minutes. I knew it would take a long time for the baby to come. My mom was with me, walking me around a big public house. I could feel the baby turning and she noticed we could see the baby through my skin; curling, hands clasped in a prayer position, soft eyelashes closed in peace.

oh, paiger, paigie, paige...

Shawarma Kitchen, originally uploaded by tradica.

Everyone say a little prayer for my incredibly brave little step sister who is on the adventure of a lifetime and managed to contract H5N1. Poor baby. I've had such a thrill reading her incredibly well written blog about things I may never experience.

Feel better, sweet thing!

3 years ago