The alarm went off at 4am, and for once I actually got up without hitting Snooze. There was an adorable tightly wound ball of cat on the pillow at my feet, practically begging me to stay and snuggle, but I dragged myself out of bed, shuffled to the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Even hot water coursing down on me didn't do much to wake me up, and I felt sick to my stomach from being up so early. Some last-minute packing, organizing, and printing out of boarding passes, a half-a**ed attempt to style my hair, and I was out the door and on the road.
It somehow managed to be both chilly and muggy at the same time, and it was still dark by the time I arrived at the airport and parked my car. The airport was busy with passengers, but not with employees—most of the people staffing the security line had apparently gone on break, and the 3 who were still there kept yelling to each other over our heads, having full personal conversations at a volume usually reserved for cheering at sporting events. Everyone in line looked sort of shell-shocked, even the ones who probably travel the same route every week: men in their slick suits and carefully packed carry-ons, deftly removing jackets, belts, shoes, and laptops in the time it takes me to rummage around in my bag for my toiletries zip-lock.
After a packed flight to San Francisco with a neighbor whose flatulence was inexcusable in both its frequency and potency, a brief layover, and a quick flight south on a tiny plane, I arrived in Santa Barbara, or should I say Shangri-la. The sun was glistening off the red tile roofs, the temperature was a perfect 75°, and my parents were waiting for me outside. Shrimp kabobs at an outdoor table in downtown Santa Barbara, a gorgeous coastline drive on the 101, only the briefest and most light-hearted of arguments with my mother (about what I'll be feeding my hypothetical unborn children, obvs), and now I'm writing happily from the gazebo in my aunt and uncle's backyard. There's a purry cat keeping me company, and the slightest of breezes moving the curtains, and poppies in bloom, and I could be wrong, but I think I'm in heaven.
And now I'm off to primp for dinner at the Four Seasons.
Yes, you should probably be jealous.
Blergh
I never thought I would become one of those people who wait until the last minute to pack for a trip. I'm more likely to have an outfit planned for each day and occasion, utilizing separates in a color scheme, all decided in advance. But here it is, 10pm the night before a 7am flight, and I haven't even hauled out my suitcase yet. Not only that, but off the massive to-do list I created this morning, I think I've crossed off 4 items. Luckily, laundry was one of them. Also, paying bills. Good lord, I'm wracking my brain to think of what else I accomplished, but aside from a couple meetings, that might have been all. So, 2 items. Yikes.
The weather today was hot and sticky in the way only Houston knows how to be. And I was grumpy and tired and pining for my CameraMan in a completely irrational fashion, considering he only left this morning (although it was so early it should count as yesterday). I felt out of whack all day—clearly I'm ready to be on the Left Coast in the bosom of my family.
Tomorrow I'm flying out early and landing before noon. I'll be picked up by the Bossy Folks, who made the big drive down to California from Oregon today (during which Papa Bossy got the 2nd speeding ticket OF HIS LIFE—oops!), are picking me up from the airport, and then it's nothing but sunshine, and relaxing, and wine, and good food, and plenty of family for the next 4 days. I can't wait.
But for now, I suppose I should be packing.
Blergh.
The weather today was hot and sticky in the way only Houston knows how to be. And I was grumpy and tired and pining for my CameraMan in a completely irrational fashion, considering he only left this morning (although it was so early it should count as yesterday). I felt out of whack all day—clearly I'm ready to be on the Left Coast in the bosom of my family.
Tomorrow I'm flying out early and landing before noon. I'll be picked up by the Bossy Folks, who made the big drive down to California from Oregon today (during which Papa Bossy got the 2nd speeding ticket OF HIS LIFE—oops!), are picking me up from the airport, and then it's nothing but sunshine, and relaxing, and wine, and good food, and plenty of family for the next 4 days. I can't wait.
But for now, I suppose I should be packing.
Blergh.
The beginning of the end
Oh, the past few weeks have been delicious. Couch time and Lucy time and CameraMan time and friend time, with no pressing obligations except for the Great Purge of 2010. I've gotten a little spoiled, honestly. It's been such a luxury to be able to try new recipes, and read magazines, and watch so much Gilmore Girls it's embarrassing. Never before have I been so happy to NOT have a job.
Of course, the main reason I can enjoy my time off so shamelessly is that I know when my next job (and my next paycheck) is coming. And it's coming soon! The mainstage season is almost over, and following directly on the heels of the last performances is the beginning of Tosca. Yes, we're back to Tosca, this time with me directing and CM conducting. We're doing 2 free performances at the Miller Outdoor Theater in Hermann Park here in Houston. I actually had a meeting about it yesterday with BrandNewMiniCooperGirl (the Stage Manager) and Little Ms. Hardcore (the Assistant Director), in which I threw about 80 million questions at them and did my best impression of calm.
Miller week is always a bit crazy. Two years ago is the last time I was directly involved. Last year I got to experience it one step removed, as the Maestro's girlfriend, but this year I'm diving right in again. One day of rehearsals in a room with no props, 2 nights onstage with the piano, 1 orchestra dress rehearsal, and then we're in performances! When I look at it written down that way, I kind of want to throw up, but the lawn is always packed, and the singers always rise to the challenge, and the shows always turn out great, so I'm crossing my fingers that will happen this year, too.
And in the meantime, I'll be taking a vacation, heading to Southern California on Thursday for a nice long weekend with family. CM leaves tomorrow for a quick visit to see his own family (Papa Bossy's calling it our "Farewell Tour"). Then he comes home for a day (while I'm still in Cali) before flying to Canada for another gig. When he gets back we'll have just a couple days before we start rehearsals.
Suddenly this all just got very real.
Of course, the main reason I can enjoy my time off so shamelessly is that I know when my next job (and my next paycheck) is coming. And it's coming soon! The mainstage season is almost over, and following directly on the heels of the last performances is the beginning of Tosca. Yes, we're back to Tosca, this time with me directing and CM conducting. We're doing 2 free performances at the Miller Outdoor Theater in Hermann Park here in Houston. I actually had a meeting about it yesterday with BrandNewMiniCooperGirl (the Stage Manager) and Little Ms. Hardcore (the Assistant Director), in which I threw about 80 million questions at them and did my best impression of calm.
Miller week is always a bit crazy. Two years ago is the last time I was directly involved. Last year I got to experience it one step removed, as the Maestro's girlfriend, but this year I'm diving right in again. One day of rehearsals in a room with no props, 2 nights onstage with the piano, 1 orchestra dress rehearsal, and then we're in performances! When I look at it written down that way, I kind of want to throw up, but the lawn is always packed, and the singers always rise to the challenge, and the shows always turn out great, so I'm crossing my fingers that will happen this year, too.
And in the meantime, I'll be taking a vacation, heading to Southern California on Thursday for a nice long weekend with family. CM leaves tomorrow for a quick visit to see his own family (Papa Bossy's calling it our "Farewell Tour"). Then he comes home for a day (while I'm still in Cali) before flying to Canada for another gig. When he gets back we'll have just a couple days before we start rehearsals.
Suddenly this all just got very real.
Mac 'n cheese 'n friendship
I had big plans for tonight. Well, if not big plans exactly, plans. People were invited to our house for another (maybe the last) get-together where we ate, drank, made merry, and gave away car-loads of our stuff. I had bookmarked a fancy mac ’n cheese (my favorite thing) recipe ages ago, a recipe that serves 12(!), and I finally had an opportunity to make it.
This afternoon I went to the grocery store, bought obscene amounts of cheese, went home, and got to work. And the recipe was all it promised to be. A bechamel to die for, smooth, creamy, thickened just the right amount, not a burnt pot bottom in sight. Cups and cups of freshly grated cheddar and gruyère stirred in, with cayenne and nutmeg and ground mustard—I was in heaven. I assembled the whole thing, poured it into the waiting casserole dish, and put it in the refrigerator to sit until the right time.
The guests were due at 7, so at quarter 'til I pre-heated the oven. Except that when I opened the oven to check the thermometer a few minutes later, it hadn't heated AT ALL. We've had multiple problems with our gas oven, resulting in countless calls to the landlord (who keeps insisting it's a brand new oven—yeah, I don't think so), but never this particular issue. CM heroically came into the kitchen to try to fix it, armed with a candle lighter, but nothing was lighting or heating or doing any of the things that ovens are supposed to do. Then he started talking about ordering pizza, while I heroically (but unsuccessfully) staved off tears. Then suddenly, miraculously, the oven started heating up—MAGIC! The thermometer hit 375° and in went the mac 'n cheese. Our friends started arriving, and all was right with the world.
But a couple minutes later when I looked, the temperature had hit 450°. Another problem—the oven was overheating. Out came the casserole dish, I turned the oven off, took a few deep breaths, and started over.
I'm sure you know the end of the story. There was beer to take everyone's mind off the lack of mac. There was good conversation, and loud laughter, and for quite a while the promise of food was enough. And then the oven was the right temperature, and the mac 'n cheese was cooked just right, and the broccoli was steamed, and almost everyone had seconds, and there were brownies for dessert, and the whole night was fun. Of course it was.
Three weeks from today we're leaving Houston and the incredible friends we've made here. I've said it before, and I'm sure you'll hear it again, but I will miss them all so very much. Left to my own devices, I am capable of a complete meltdown when things don't go according to plan. With my friends around me I can laugh it off, make the best of it, go with the flow (sort of). I'm looking forward to our new life, in a new city, on a new continent(!), in a new apartment, with a NEW OVEN.
But this life we're leaving, it's not so bad, you know? It has its moments. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. And (if you didn't already know) everything's better with mac 'n cheese.
This afternoon I went to the grocery store, bought obscene amounts of cheese, went home, and got to work. And the recipe was all it promised to be. A bechamel to die for, smooth, creamy, thickened just the right amount, not a burnt pot bottom in sight. Cups and cups of freshly grated cheddar and gruyère stirred in, with cayenne and nutmeg and ground mustard—I was in heaven. I assembled the whole thing, poured it into the waiting casserole dish, and put it in the refrigerator to sit until the right time.
The guests were due at 7, so at quarter 'til I pre-heated the oven. Except that when I opened the oven to check the thermometer a few minutes later, it hadn't heated AT ALL. We've had multiple problems with our gas oven, resulting in countless calls to the landlord (who keeps insisting it's a brand new oven—yeah, I don't think so), but never this particular issue. CM heroically came into the kitchen to try to fix it, armed with a candle lighter, but nothing was lighting or heating or doing any of the things that ovens are supposed to do. Then he started talking about ordering pizza, while I heroically (but unsuccessfully) staved off tears. Then suddenly, miraculously, the oven started heating up—MAGIC! The thermometer hit 375° and in went the mac 'n cheese. Our friends started arriving, and all was right with the world.
But a couple minutes later when I looked, the temperature had hit 450°. Another problem—the oven was overheating. Out came the casserole dish, I turned the oven off, took a few deep breaths, and started over.
I'm sure you know the end of the story. There was beer to take everyone's mind off the lack of mac. There was good conversation, and loud laughter, and for quite a while the promise of food was enough. And then the oven was the right temperature, and the mac 'n cheese was cooked just right, and the broccoli was steamed, and almost everyone had seconds, and there were brownies for dessert, and the whole night was fun. Of course it was.
Three weeks from today we're leaving Houston and the incredible friends we've made here. I've said it before, and I'm sure you'll hear it again, but I will miss them all so very much. Left to my own devices, I am capable of a complete meltdown when things don't go according to plan. With my friends around me I can laugh it off, make the best of it, go with the flow (sort of). I'm looking forward to our new life, in a new city, on a new continent(!), in a new apartment, with a NEW OVEN.
But this life we're leaving, it's not so bad, you know? It has its moments. In fact, it's pretty damn amazing. And (if you didn't already know) everything's better with mac 'n cheese.
Happy weekend!
I hope you all have fun plans for the weekend! CM has a rare night off tonight, so I'm cooking a super-healthy dinner, followed by this cake (it's all about the balance, right?). Tomorrow we're going to the movies to see the HD Broadcast of Armida (popcorn + Sour Patch Kids + opera = happiness), and Sunday we're going to a pool party! I can't believe it's already the end of April—we're trying to make the most of our brief time left here.
A few links for your weekend:
I'm at the tail end of Week 3 of this program. It's going pretty well so far, actually, but I'm scared of next week, when the running intervals get much much longer.
How adorable are all these dresses? Curses to the Wise Soprano who showed them to me—I want ALL of them.
In order to cross #88 off my list, I really want to go here. If only we were independently wealthy, I'd like to spend a luxurious week being served breakfast in bed, boating on the Danube, and eating lavish dinners in the 4-star restaurant.
We're researching little video cameras so that we can make our first foray into the world of vlogging. At the moment we're leaning toward this one, but all advice is appreciated. Think CM will let me get it in lavender?
I really wish I was in NYC so that I could see this. And this article made me so excited to see Eat, Pray, Love. Yay for strong women getting everything they want.
Have a great weekend!
A few links for your weekend:
I'm at the tail end of Week 3 of this program. It's going pretty well so far, actually, but I'm scared of next week, when the running intervals get much much longer.
How adorable are all these dresses? Curses to the Wise Soprano who showed them to me—I want ALL of them.
In order to cross #88 off my list, I really want to go here. If only we were independently wealthy, I'd like to spend a luxurious week being served breakfast in bed, boating on the Danube, and eating lavish dinners in the 4-star restaurant.
We're researching little video cameras so that we can make our first foray into the world of vlogging. At the moment we're leaning toward this one, but all advice is appreciated. Think CM will let me get it in lavender?
I really wish I was in NYC so that I could see this. And this article made me so excited to see Eat, Pray, Love. Yay for strong women getting everything they want.
Have a great weekend!
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