I've had my first meme tagging, from the lovely Beck. Thanks, Beck.
Eight Things About Me.
Here are the rules:
A. Each player lists 8 facts/habits about themselves.
B. The rules of the game are posted at the beginning before those facts/habits are listed.
C. At the end of the post, the player then tags 8 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know that they have been tagged and asking them to read your blog.
OK, so... here goes...
1 - My favorite animal is the Shark. This obsession with sharks began after viewing Jaws 3. Feel free to start diagnosing my mental abnormalities now. Shark Week on the Discovery channel is like a holiday at my house (although they are getting a bit hard up for good material, I must say) and my high school boyfriend would groan whenever I found a Jaques Cousteau special on TV - he knew he had lost my attention. I like them because they are graceful and powerful. Recently in CanCun I got to feed several in an aquarium while submerged in a plexiglass cage. Not quite my dream of swimming with them, but cool just the same. I created my own shark stencils so that I could paint a bathroom in an underwater theme and have a place to display all my shark knick-knacks.
2 - My favorite food is crunchy peanut butter. Recently my husband saw me eating it straight from the spoon, and thought this was gross (this from the man who drinks milk from the jug...). I do this all the time, and how he managed to be married to me for over 10 years and not see me do this is beyond me, as I have not been hiding this. I am not ashamed of my peanut butter addiction. The stuff is good!
3 - I love to go dancing, but don't get to do it very often. My husband hates to dance. This causes problems.
4 - The best thing to dance to is old school Prince. In fact, my favorite Prince song is Gett Off. I knew that this would be inappropriate at my wedding reception, so had the DJ play Kiss instead. Prince is also very good to listen to loudly in the car to get me energized before a performance.
5 - I may have been in your living room. Or whatever room you have a television in. During the flu seasons of 00/01 and 01/02 I appeared in a commercial for Breath Right nasal strips ("You got your Breath Right Strips in my Vicks Mentholated Vapors....") This 30 seconds of fame helped me buy my first home. Interesting (or not) piece of trivia... the director of the commercial was an original member of the band Ratt.
6 - I spent my summer vacations during college being a camp counselor. I loved this job, and would have been willing to do it for the rest of my life. Camp rocks. Send your kids.
7 - I own a guitar that I have not taken out of the case since before The May Queen was born. I keep thinking that I will change that soon. I've been thinking that for 4 1/2 years.
8 - I really like to drink Mountain Dew, but don't very often, as I can't afford the calories. It is particularly good to drink in the car, listening to Prince, to get me energized for a performance.
And now, I am supposed to tag 8 people. That's a lot. But I'll give it a shot. And I'm even going to try to link to them, but this HTML stuff is hard on me. I'm learning. If you've already been tagged, um... sorry. And if you don't feel like doing this, then every bad chain mail curse will be rained down upon your head. I think. Or maybe you'll just stub your toe.
Tagging commencing:
fellow new blogger Thirty-Something
the new homeowner Ewe are Here
because I love her screen name Sober Briquette
the original dude, Jen
because the answer is sure to make you (and me) laugh Creative Type Dad
the well dressed Niobe
fellow actress mama No Mother Earth
and the always interesting Veronica
Friday, June 29, 2007
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Grace
Eek. You may all run screaming from my blog after this. But the topics of faith and church going have been quite prevalent in the reading I've been doing lately ( Toddled Dredge, Shilly, Shally, Dilly Dally?: Seeing is Disappearing, to name just a few) and Bub and Pie noticed it, too (Bub and Pie: Church#links).
I, too, have all sorts of issues and questions about church and faith and God. I know there are a lot of Christians out there who give us a bad name (such as the people who "witness" ala the outline in B&P's post). But for some reason, I feel like I need to stand up and say (or sit down and type) this:
This is what I believe: God loves me, and he loves you. It matters not who you are, where you live, whether you believe in him or not, or what you have done in your past (or are doing now, or will do in the future). He loves you, he loves me, and His GRACE is sufficient. And that is why I go to church.
And if you disagree with me, you can still be my friend.
I, too, have all sorts of issues and questions about church and faith and God. I know there are a lot of Christians out there who give us a bad name (such as the people who "witness" ala the outline in B&P's post). But for some reason, I feel like I need to stand up and say (or sit down and type) this:
This is what I believe: God loves me, and he loves you. It matters not who you are, where you live, whether you believe in him or not, or what you have done in your past (or are doing now, or will do in the future). He loves you, he loves me, and His GRACE is sufficient. And that is why I go to church.
And if you disagree with me, you can still be my friend.
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Cousin Race
Cousins are a curious thing.
The May Queen's relationship with her cousin began long before she was born. In fact, it began the day that I called my brother and sister-in-law to tell them that we were expecting. My SIL said nothing for a while, then "Did your Mom tell you?" "Tell me what?" Another long pause, before I said "You're pregnant, too?!" Turns out we even had the same due date. And thus began the race to be the first grandchild.
The Cousin won that race, being born early, while The May Queen hunkered down for another two weeks in my womb (there's a story for another day...)
They are both blond hair, blue eyed cuties who have been mistaken for twins, although not so much now as they are getting older. We spent their infancy comparing (if only silently to ourselves) how quickly they rolled, walked, talked, ate, etc.
They only get to see each other once or twice a year, as The Cousin lives in Michigan, and The May Queen in Louisiana (and before that, California). They love each other, in that weird childhood way of barely knowing each other but knowing that they are related. They are very excited to get to see each other, probably because we build up the idea to them.
Today they spent the day together at the beach, and I wonder if this is what sibling rivalry is like. The May Queen has to be first at everything, and will pull little tricks to try to make this happen, and then smirk when she wins (even if no one is playing along... she does this with EVERYONE) She is clearly more of a leader and take charge gal. The Cousin, on the other hand, is very sensitive, and will easily cry at every perceived injustice, real or not. They lobby for Oma's attention (Oma is my mother, it's German for Grandma) as if getting to sit by Oma at the picnic table were the equivilent of being invited to Cinderella's ball. They fight over how they might be able to, or not able to, share the books on the car ride home, WHEN WE ARE NOT EVEN ANYWHERE NEAR TO GETTING IN THE CAR. It feels like a constant struggle for us adults to keep the peace.
And yet...
The Cousin very sweetly shared her puppy dog with May Queen in the car. And when The Cousin felt worried about slipping on the walks in the water, the more sure footed May Queen took her hand and led her to shore. And later at home the two girls were giggling over a puzzle together as if they were the best of friends.
I will probably never have to navigate the waters of siblings from my parental role, but I imagine this must be what it is like. Just when you are at the end of your referee rope, they join the same team. At least for a few minutes.
The May Queen's relationship with her cousin began long before she was born. In fact, it began the day that I called my brother and sister-in-law to tell them that we were expecting. My SIL said nothing for a while, then "Did your Mom tell you?" "Tell me what?" Another long pause, before I said "You're pregnant, too?!" Turns out we even had the same due date. And thus began the race to be the first grandchild.
The Cousin won that race, being born early, while The May Queen hunkered down for another two weeks in my womb (there's a story for another day...)
They are both blond hair, blue eyed cuties who have been mistaken for twins, although not so much now as they are getting older. We spent their infancy comparing (if only silently to ourselves) how quickly they rolled, walked, talked, ate, etc.
They only get to see each other once or twice a year, as The Cousin lives in Michigan, and The May Queen in Louisiana (and before that, California). They love each other, in that weird childhood way of barely knowing each other but knowing that they are related. They are very excited to get to see each other, probably because we build up the idea to them.
Today they spent the day together at the beach, and I wonder if this is what sibling rivalry is like. The May Queen has to be first at everything, and will pull little tricks to try to make this happen, and then smirk when she wins (even if no one is playing along... she does this with EVERYONE) She is clearly more of a leader and take charge gal. The Cousin, on the other hand, is very sensitive, and will easily cry at every perceived injustice, real or not. They lobby for Oma's attention (Oma is my mother, it's German for Grandma) as if getting to sit by Oma at the picnic table were the equivilent of being invited to Cinderella's ball. They fight over how they might be able to, or not able to, share the books on the car ride home, WHEN WE ARE NOT EVEN ANYWHERE NEAR TO GETTING IN THE CAR. It feels like a constant struggle for us adults to keep the peace.
And yet...
The Cousin very sweetly shared her puppy dog with May Queen in the car. And when The Cousin felt worried about slipping on the walks in the water, the more sure footed May Queen took her hand and led her to shore. And later at home the two girls were giggling over a puzzle together as if they were the best of friends.
I will probably never have to navigate the waters of siblings from my parental role, but I imagine this must be what it is like. Just when you are at the end of your referee rope, they join the same team. At least for a few minutes.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
ode to an old friend
Yesterday I spent the day with my best friend from high school. It was so great to have time together, and as our kids are getting older and play together, we really got to talk.
We met the summer before our freshman year, when we began practicing to be cheerleaders. We were cheerleaders together for our whole freshman year. When I did not make the JV team (and my BF did) I was crushed. (as it turns out it was a good thing, as I then discovered the theatre, and whole new worlds opened up to me, but at the time I sobbed) But by far the best thing that came out of that year of long bus rides and short skirts was this friendship. For four years we shared everything, and recorded our friendship in something we called "doodle books." We had good old fashioned spiral notebooks that we filled with notes, and doodles, and our own cartoon series, and made up stories, and song lyrics, and deep thoughts, and so many memories. We passed these books back and forth between classes, and I have no idea how many books we filled during our time in high school. I have quite a few in a box in my attic, and I imagine she has about as many in her attic. Sometimes I pull them out and laugh. And cry. They are quite a picture of who we used to be, and who we were becoming.
In the afternoons we would talk on the phone for hours, as I lay prone on the dining room floor, my legs propped up on the doorjamb. That is, if she didn't come over to my house for dinner. Or I wasn't spending the night at her house.
Our sophomore year I became her Godmother when she was baptized at my church.
We sang in choir together, and I saw her through a host of boyfriends (and she saw me through a host of crushes, and finally, one lovely relationship) We went on our senior spring break together with 5 other friends.
And, as happens, of course, we graduated from HS, and went off to college... in different states. And we had children and marriages and jobs and across country moves... and we did what a lot of friends do over time. We drifted apart, and came back together, and drifted apart, and came back together. We can go months without talking... not out of any anger, but simply because our daily lives are involved, and we have other things going on. But we finally call each other and it's as if no time has passed; it's like I'm lying on the floor in my parents dining room with my feet up on the doorjamb, and we talk for hours.
We met the summer before our freshman year, when we began practicing to be cheerleaders. We were cheerleaders together for our whole freshman year. When I did not make the JV team (and my BF did) I was crushed. (as it turns out it was a good thing, as I then discovered the theatre, and whole new worlds opened up to me, but at the time I sobbed) But by far the best thing that came out of that year of long bus rides and short skirts was this friendship. For four years we shared everything, and recorded our friendship in something we called "doodle books." We had good old fashioned spiral notebooks that we filled with notes, and doodles, and our own cartoon series, and made up stories, and song lyrics, and deep thoughts, and so many memories. We passed these books back and forth between classes, and I have no idea how many books we filled during our time in high school. I have quite a few in a box in my attic, and I imagine she has about as many in her attic. Sometimes I pull them out and laugh. And cry. They are quite a picture of who we used to be, and who we were becoming.
In the afternoons we would talk on the phone for hours, as I lay prone on the dining room floor, my legs propped up on the doorjamb. That is, if she didn't come over to my house for dinner. Or I wasn't spending the night at her house.
Our sophomore year I became her Godmother when she was baptized at my church.
We sang in choir together, and I saw her through a host of boyfriends (and she saw me through a host of crushes, and finally, one lovely relationship) We went on our senior spring break together with 5 other friends.
And, as happens, of course, we graduated from HS, and went off to college... in different states. And we had children and marriages and jobs and across country moves... and we did what a lot of friends do over time. We drifted apart, and came back together, and drifted apart, and came back together. We can go months without talking... not out of any anger, but simply because our daily lives are involved, and we have other things going on. But we finally call each other and it's as if no time has passed; it's like I'm lying on the floor in my parents dining room with my feet up on the doorjamb, and we talk for hours.
Friday, June 22, 2007
brain rot
Today we enjoyed a trip to Detroit Zoo, where The May Queen followed the enormous animal foot prints around and we oogled lots of animals doing very little action.
Overheard at the zoo: A son says to his father, "Daddy, did you know that animals can't really talk to each other?" "mmmm...," says the father, in a distracted sort of way. "That really sucks!" declares the boy. Too many Disney movies? Did he expect the chimpanzees to be having a conversation? I didn't bother to go into how they communicate with each other. I just laughed.
ANYHOW... in addition to the animals we played on the playgroud, on the way home we had ice cream, and told knock-knock jokes, and sang songs. After dinner we sat around a campfire in the fire pit out back, and when we called so MQ could say goodnight to her Daddy back home, he asked what she did today. "I watched TV!" she excitedly said.
TV. She watched one lousy video upon our return from the zoo, and this is all she can think to tell him she did today? He said to me "Well, we see that TV and video games have a high level of importance in her life." I wonder who she gets that from?
Overheard at the zoo: A son says to his father, "Daddy, did you know that animals can't really talk to each other?" "mmmm...," says the father, in a distracted sort of way. "That really sucks!" declares the boy. Too many Disney movies? Did he expect the chimpanzees to be having a conversation? I didn't bother to go into how they communicate with each other. I just laughed.
ANYHOW... in addition to the animals we played on the playgroud, on the way home we had ice cream, and told knock-knock jokes, and sang songs. After dinner we sat around a campfire in the fire pit out back, and when we called so MQ could say goodnight to her Daddy back home, he asked what she did today. "I watched TV!" she excitedly said.
TV. She watched one lousy video upon our return from the zoo, and this is all she can think to tell him she did today? He said to me "Well, we see that TV and video games have a high level of importance in her life." I wonder who she gets that from?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
shameless sk*rt promotion
new post just below this one. I've submitted the post I wrote last week, I See London, I See France for the sk*rt contest, as it seemed to fit perfectly the theme of "what is under your skirt?" if you read it and like it, please vote for me here (there's also a link to vote for me at the end of the actual post) I could win free stuff. That would be very cool. OH, and did I mention it's my birthday? it is. I'm just sayin'.
growing old GREYfully
There must be something with the lighting in my bathroom at home, because I had not noticed all these grey hairs before. But now that I am visiting family I look in the mirror and think "where did all of these come from?" And it brings me head to head with the fact that it's probably time to start dyeing my hair, which is something that I am against, principally: I feel that women should be able to age gracefully and go grey naturally, as men do. (well, MOST men do) HOWEVER, I am an actress, and I know that if I have grey hair I will not be cast in a large range of roles, because even women twice my age are not grey, thanks to the convenience of dyeing their strands at home in their own sink (or forking over lots of dough for someone else to do it).
But it seems somehow poetic to be dealing with this realization today, my 33rd birthday. I had an enjoyable day at my parents house, joined by my brother and his family. When I came out from my bedroom this morning I was shooed back in. Shortly after The May Queen and her cousin came in carrying candles and singing (followed by grandparents with cameras) I opened presents over a pancake breakfast, and had my traditional birthday feast, BBQ Spare Ribs, for dinner. But the highlight of the day came when my sister in law provided me with a stripper. His act consisted of taking off his diaper, waving it in the air, and waggling his hips before running away. It was an unplanned act, of course, as he was getting ready to crawl into the wading pool, but I will likely tease my nephew about it for years after his blond ringlets have been controlled with a shorter haircut.
But it seems somehow poetic to be dealing with this realization today, my 33rd birthday. I had an enjoyable day at my parents house, joined by my brother and his family. When I came out from my bedroom this morning I was shooed back in. Shortly after The May Queen and her cousin came in carrying candles and singing (followed by grandparents with cameras) I opened presents over a pancake breakfast, and had my traditional birthday feast, BBQ Spare Ribs, for dinner. But the highlight of the day came when my sister in law provided me with a stripper. His act consisted of taking off his diaper, waving it in the air, and waggling his hips before running away. It was an unplanned act, of course, as he was getting ready to crawl into the wading pool, but I will likely tease my nephew about it for years after his blond ringlets have been controlled with a shorter haircut.
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