Hey Jetsons, check this out:

Rad.

LITTLE WOMEN is officially open! Woo hoo!

Hey check it out! There's some great pics at the bottom of the article.

Click here.

Hubbie's New Job

Remember how I said that my husband just became the musical director at a church here in Manhattan, and that I'd tell you more about it later?

I think I'll just let him explain it to you.

To Be or Not To Be

Oh fancied friends I am not a dedicated blogger these days. I'm sorry the posts are few and far between, and sorry that I haven't been able to make it over to your blogs to read and comment. But my hope is that you're all well and happy and content.

At this very moment I'm on a train to Northport for another long tech rehearsal. We're behind but all in all I'm very excited about how the show is coming together. Right now my cast mates are probably wondering where I am because I forwent the gathering ritual of meeting before the track is announced. I'm a little grumpy this morning and thought I'd spare them all my sullen face. By the time we get there I should be less sleepy and less irritable - irritable because I lost my scarf in the train station. One minute it was hanging loosely from my neck (I had just undone it because I was burning up hot from the cramped subway ride), the next minute gone. Did it fall? Did someone slyly pull it from my neck when I was indecisively trying to figure out which bottled water to buy? Of all things, my pashmina! It was pink. And pretty. My pretty, pink pashmina is now gone forever. And I didn't even buy it. It was a hand-me-down. Actually I was kind of borrowing it. There. Truth be told. It wasn't even mine. Dadgummit.

I looked all around on the floor where I had been. Missing pashmina nowhere to be found. Someone is walking the streets of New York this very minute with my pretty pink pashmina. Well not really mine.... Dangit.

There's this one part in my big duet I sing with Jo, where I am going to (gasp) change the melody! Actually it's just one note but I thoroughly hate this one note, and sparing you the boring details, I'm just telling you. I'm going to change it! I've figured it all out, and I think my way is much better on all accounts. I'm trying to decide if I actually need to inform my musical director. One thing I do know is that musical theater people don't like changing notes. As a folk-slash-pop-slash-kindofrock-slash-Christian recording artist you can change notes all day long and it's ok! But these musical theater folk....oh no. I might scare the scarf off my musical director (he typically wears one) and bring the whole darn number to a svreaching halt.

"Woah woah woah. (nervous chuckle). Uh.... Fancypants.... You sag a B instead of a D there. (nervous chuckle... Wraps scarf back around his neck).

To which I could have numerous responses.

Number 1: Yeah. I know. Who wrote this song? They kind of suck. I'm not singing the D there.

Number 2: OH!!! Oops. That just kinda happened. But I sort of one it better. What do you think?

Number 3: I am so sorry. My mistake, won't happen again. (or will it, she says to herself)

Hmmmmm. Or I could just work it I win my musical director before hand so as not to risk another scarf being lost, but risking my idea being shut down.

Diva or not to be diva? THAT is the question. What should it be, folks?

Nanny Diaries

I'm wearing my Beatles t-shirt with camo pants. (My favorite tee designed with a pic of all four guys - John, Paul, George, and Ringo - on the front) I was sure the 7-year-old would say something about the camo pants. I figured he'd get a kick out of 'em, which is pretty much why I wore them. I enter the front door of my nannying destination, where I find my little 7-yr-old, glasses and all, sitting at the table eating a homemade oreo cookie.

7-YEAR-OLD: Why are you wearing a Jonas Brothers shirt?

.....Oh boy.

Have you ever been in a place in your life where everything, every-single-little-thing, means something. Where you go about your day knowing life is rich. It's not all easy. It's not all fun. But it's all clear. It's all love. Even the pain is love.

Somehow I'm there. I don't know how long it will last. I don't know why it's right now that it is. Every relationship is full. Every act is purposed. I'm thankful for each new day, for every person in my life. My faults are directly before my eyes and known to me, but I'm not afraid of them. I'm seeing light from darkness in a new way.

What is this? What is this but the undeniable grace of God that is given on no account but by the will of the Giver. Grace super-abounding. A little taste of heaven. An awareness of the kingdom of God on earth.

Yet even as I write, I feel its absence in fleeting moments. It's gone. It's there.

And I hope for what's to come, when the Gift is all throughout and around and eternal and near in a way that is fully known, fully realized, fully felt.

Complete.

Update

Rehearsals are going well. My cast is amazing. My director has issues with sentimentality and therefore keeps cutting more of my lines out of the play, because, well, my character is the sentimental one. The first two times I was like, yeah, that line was dumb. Cool. Then the third time, I thought...hey now, that's three of my lines gone. And if he does it again, I might just have to stand up for poor Beth here and plead her case.

Our Jo was in Cry Baby on B'way before it closed. She's really fun to work with. They're ALL fun to work with. My director included, even though he keeps chopping my lines.

Seth is now the acting music director of Central Presbyterian Church in Manhattan. We led worship today and it was a blast. My husband plays the organ. Who knew? We feel incredibly blessed by the people there and are so thankful for them.

More about the church later. I'm exhausted. Gotta sleep.

Little Women

Good news! I'm playing Beth in LITTLE WOMEN at the Engeman Theater. (Same theater as OLIVER and WONDERFUL LIFE) Rehearsals start Monday. I can't wait to get started. The show runs March 12 - April 19.

Beth is the second to youngest daughter of the March family.

Here's the website for more info. Click on "Show Schedule," then scroll down to find LITTLE WOMEN. Click on the link for tickets if you're interested in show times and prices. Would love for anyone who's able to come see the show!

I'll update with more info on cast members and let you know how the process is going as we go along.

For Husbands: 10 Ways You Know Your Wife is PMS-ing.

1. She cries not only at movies like Steel Magnolias and Beaches, but also at random scenes from Desperate Housewives.

2. She stares off in the distance mopingly for no good reason at all. Actually altogether she has a distant look in her eye. Like she's there but not really there -you can't be sure.

3. She wants to cuddle, then seconds later wants nothing to do with you.

4. You think it's safe to joke about her quirks, but when you do, she either cries or yells at you or slams a door or some combination of all three.

5. She keeps asking you, possibly for three to five days in a row, if she's gained weight, even though just the day before you told her no and that she looked hot. You do tell her that she looks hot, I'm sure....RIGHT?

6. She's slacking on chores and household responsibilities. Doesn't want to cook or clean or run errands or much of anything.

7. But she does want chocolate. A lot of it.

8. If she's normally a pretty organized person, you notice her forgetting things when she leaves the house, like maybe even her PURSE! GASP. You'll notice her leaving and coming back inside several times before actually departing the premises.

9. She's irritated at the world when she's not irritated with you, and irritated with you when she's not irritated with the world. Choose your words carefully and be extra sweet, and if....IF....you must remind her that she's PMSing...don't use it as ammunition. She can't help it. Don't discard her feelings because of it. Her feelings are important. And by all means, don't ASK her in the middle of an argument if she is. It won't get you anywhere. Just ask her LATER, when you think it's safe, and ask her sweetly, and then remember so you don't have to ask her AGAIN.

10. She's too annoyed to think of a number 10 on a list she thinks is cliche but will post anyways because she has nothing else she presently wants to write about.

Thinking Out Loud

Sitting in a Starbucks, thinking. Surely, there is some inherent goodness in us all. I notice kindnesses in the street. Real, genuine kindnesses. More than I ever have before. Maybe I'm more aware now. I am almost thirty, after all. Maybe thirty means you pay more attention. Or maybe this city forces you to watch. Maybe both. There has to be a balance between self awareness and selflessness. Self aware so that I'm not constantly viewing myself from the outside, from what I think other people think. But this is not a selfISHness. To be kind is to consider another better than yourself. To be genuinely kind it must stem from a self aware security, in order to come from the inside out. To notice another should come from the nside out. Coming from the outside in, I can see only myself. But to be only self aware I forget my neighbor, and there the balance is skewed. (Is that the right word? Skewed?)

Thoughts from a Starbucks. From my trusty iPhone.

Nanny Diaries

I arrive at my nannying destination. 7-year-old boy is in trouble and in his room. He's crying. 2-yr-old boy is NOT in trouble, and 7-year-old thinks 2-year-old should get the same punishment as he does, even though 2-yr-old didn't do anything wrong.

7-yr-old emerges from his room for dinner. 2-yr-old is already in high chair, and through the following discourse is only half paying attention, very happy about eating his food. Dad is sitting down at the table. Mom is putting food is front of them all. I'm...trying to make myself useful.

7-YR-OLD: (whining) Why did you give me a baby bowl?? I don't WANT a baby bowl!

DAD: It's fine. Eat what's been given you.

7-YR-OLD: But I don't WANT this baby bowl!! I'm not eating this!! Put it in another bowl!

DAD: The bowl's fine. You don't need another one.

7-YR-OLD: YES I DO! I'm not eating this until you put it into another bowl!

DAD: There's no reason to dirty another bowl.

7-YR-OLD: I NEED another bowl!

DAD: That's enough! To your room. Now. Don't come out until you can speak nicely.

7-YR-OLD: (glares at Dad)

DAD: Now. To your room.

7-YR-OLD: (still glaring)

DAD: NOW. One...

2-YR-OLD: Two! Three!

7-YR-OLD: (to 2-Yr-Old) You are SO mean! You STAY OUT OF THIS! You have NOTHING to do with this!

7-yr-old stomps out of the kitchen, into his room, crying dramatically. He cries and yells to himself in his room, or maybe to his stuffed animals? Dinner is finished. Dad and Mom and 2-yr-old go to the opposite side of the apartment. I'm still in the kitchen. I hear from the 7-yr-old's room: (He's still crying and wailing to himself.)

7-YR-OLD: These are the LAST WORDS BEFORE I DIE! THE LAST WORDS BEFORE I DIE!

Would you like to see what I live with?

Seth's Firside Chat:

Eyelash Trouble

I just pulled out a clump of my eyelashes. Like, probably four or five. At one time.

I spent the last ten minutes asking Seth if he could see a space where they came out, and googling "Do eyelashes grow back."

I found out that yes, they grow back, and it usually takes 4 - 8 weeks.

Unless you have a hypothyroid problem.

?!?!?!?!

Untitled

Sometimes the world opens.
It says yes.
Or maybe it just says nothing.
A blank white screen with blinking cursor.
The sun's warmth upon a turned corner.

Silence.

Allowing words, allowing steps, allowing thought.
Action.
The poet's canvas.

And if the world is silent...we ask.
Our creation: a mere question,
Dialogue between the created and its creator.
Ask before the world closes.
Ask. Ask. Ask.
Before the screen goes dark and the sun dips behind the building
Or before the clanging.
Before pain, before duty, before the quickening steps,
Ask when the world opens.

8:42 AM:

Got up at 6. Put on a cute little audition dress. Layered up. Threw my dress shoes in my bag. Pulled on my UGGS. Tromped over to Starbucks. Got a double tall skim caramel macchiato. Tromped over and down to the subway. Went to my audition. Found out they weren't seeing non-Eq. Turned right back around. Tromped over and down to the subway. Am home in my cozy apartment.

It's OK. It MIGHT be possible that in the rush of the morning routine...I didn't shave my legs.

TMI?

Why We Need A Savior

I'm in an elevator. Enter a 6-yr-old and his mother.

6-YR-OLD: (to his mother) "Buy a dog! Buy a dog! BUY A DOG! I can have whatever I want! YES I CAN!! WhatEVER I want for my 7th birthday. I can have whatever I want and I don't need to ask Abba if I can have it. Because I can have WHATEVER I WANT!"

And why I think that child should get duct tape for his 7th birthday.

New Things I Like in the New Year

Some new things I like a whole lot lately:


Sudoku: completely addicting.

Haagen Daz Vanilla Raspberry Swirl Frozen Yogurt: delicious and refreshing.

Brussel Sprouts: can you believe it? I made them tonight to look like the picture above.

Superfood: it looks gross but tastes SO good.

Sleeping Pills: obviously

Gap Body Lotion: These I liked all last year but just started using them every day because it gets so dry here.

MacBook: because it kicks major hynie.

My iPhone: because it's rad.

Hello fancied friends. I'm sitting at an audition waiting to be seen, typing this from my iPhone. Just because I can! It's 9:30 am. Back to the grueling life of the auditionee. 6 am mornings. The last two mornings I was supposed to get up at 6 am and overslept my alarm because I couldn't go to sleep the night before. Well! No more of that.

Drugs.

Last night I took drugs. Good ole over the counter sleeping pills. I fell asleep at 11:30 pm. This is a record for me, folks. Of course I woke up at 2 am and had the weirdest sleep for the rest of the night. I kept thinking I couldn't go to sleep and then I'd look at the clock and it was way later than I thought. The I woke up at 6:30 this morning with these weird images of my dream, even though I thought I hadn't slept. So, maybe not the best sleep ever but I feel nice and rested this morning.

Drugs will be had tonight again.

The plan is to try to get myself into a routine and then I won't need them anymore. That's the plan, anyways.

**************************************

UPDATE: 11:34 AM

I was seen at my audition, very early into the process, like at 10:34 AM or something. Considering the call started at 10 AM, that's pretty rad. There was one guy behind the table, who was a casting assistant, and one accompanist. Both were very grumpy. After I finished singing (it was a good audition), the man behind the table grumpily said thank you, and I cheerily, (I was cheery because I knew I had given a good audition), turned to the accompanist to retrieve my music, smiled, and told him in so many words, "Great playing. That was a lot of fun." (Because it was, and sometimes those accompanists are really bad, and it just came out of my mouth.) My cheery disposition was met with a sarcastic and rude, "Uh-huh." To which I ultimately ignored and left the room, my cheery disposition in tact. So be grumpy all you want, rude people, but you're certainly not going to ruin my day today because I've made up my mind to not be reactionary. You'll end up having the bad day because you couldn't enjoy yourself even though you chose to listen to a bunch of people scream all day. Not my problem. Best of luck. Sincerely, FancyPants.

Nanny Diaries

7-YR-OLD: Is Hitler a bad word?

ME: No, Hitler's not a bad word. Hitler was a bad man.

7-YR-OLD: He was a VERY evil man.

ME: Yes, he was. You don't want to go around calling people Hitler, though.

7-YR-OLD: Hitler's in hell.

ME: Wellll...I understand why you would say that, but we shouldn't say he's in hell.

7-YR-OLD: But he did very bad things, and very bad people go to hell.

ME: Wellllll...still, we shouldn't say he's in hell.

7-YR-OLD: Why not? He is, though. He IS in hell.

ME: We shouldn't say that people are in hell because that's only something God can say. We leave that up to God.

7-YR-OLD: Oh. Well I didn't know that.

ME: It's OK. Now you do.

Untitled

It's the light in your eyes
that reveals what was past
and reminds me of what will be.
And I wonder, will I see the light from your eyes
in his?
Will it speak on its own accord telling
the world of its wonder
and cause me to fall further in love.
With you, with him, with life.
With God.