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.

teeth poop

It Floats, originally uploaded by robynbird10.

Sweet P teaches preschool.

On the way to the bus yesterday one of his charges gave him a sleu of descriptions. The favorites were:

- You are a little baby hat stop sign.

- You are like teeth poop.

Oh, the creative minds of children! I salute you!

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.

red light winter

I've been acting since I was 9 years old. There has never been anything else I've wanted to do, no other vocation has ever called to me. On occasion I've tried to shove the square peg of a different career into the round hole of my life, but obviously it has never worked.

However, lately I've started to become a bit disillusioned--a bit lazy. I have led an incredibly blessed life of almost constant employment and seem to have entered a strange age limbo--too old and too young to be cast properly. I have always been very ambitious in my pursuit of work, but lately I've become a bit paralyzed with fear.

Sweet P noticed the fear in me most poignantly. He told me he could see the fear in me on stage. That terrified me. I went back to therapy and, not surprisingly, it has helped. I've started filling my life with objects, habits and people who thrill and inspire me. More difficultly, I've started removing objects, habits and people from my life who don't deserve to be play a part.

The photo above is from a reading of an incredibly difficult show. It was thrilling, inspiring and, most importantly, my scrappy idea.

I feel I'm coming back to myself--stepping back into the Emily shaped space.