A graveyard smash

Halloween is not my holiday. Oh, as a kid, I loved it, and I was lucky enough to have a creative/crafty mom, so I've had some pretty rockin' costumes over the years, including:

• Pink Bunny: Pretty self-explanatory. There was also a mask with pipe cleaners for whiskers.
• Pippi Longstocking: My mom made me a jumper out of a skirt we found at the thrift shop and a garter belt out of an old bra. Combined with my own shoes and my dad's shoes over them, drawn-on freckles, and spray painted red braids with pipe cleaners in them to make them stick out.
• Ballerina Pig: The pig costume was stuffed within an inch of its life, with a sparkly tutu and ballet slippers laced up the legs. The pig costume got recycled the next year as an Aristocrat Pig, with Grandma Bossy's fur stole and clip-on earrings in the pig ears. The third year, I wasn't creative or amenable to being stuffed, so I was just a Skinny Pig.

As an adult (ish), I have one costume I've used for the past 5 years or so. I call it my half-a**ed tiger costume, which consists of Tigger ears from Disneyland, a tiger tail my mom made me, and these little tiger cuffs she made to match. Combine that with black pants and a black shirt, and I'm good to go. Some years when I'm feeling ambitious (and this year I am not) I draw whiskers and a nose on my face in black eyeliner. Most of the time I try to avoid Halloween altogether with the exception of increased candy consumption, but this year, no such luck. I've been invited out with one group and to a party with another, so I'm actually party-hopping tonight.

Bah humbug Rawr.

Call me irresponsible

I totally bought it in ivory.

Sorry, Mama Bossy.

I got big plans

I'm a planner. I can occasionally be mistaken for spontaneous, but generally I like to figure things out in advance. I have an Excel spreadsheet for my Europe trip, listing Things to Do, Things to Buy, and Things to Pack. When I complete a task, I cross it off right away.

Yes sir, I'm a planner.

That is, up until the point when I buy a plane ticket to Europe under my married name, forgetting that I never changed the name on either of my passports.

Oops.

The U.S. has a strange policy that you can only renew your passport in person if you're traveling within the next 14 days, so I have a few more days to wait. This morning, however, I decided to tackle the German passport renewal process. I arrived at the German Consulate armed with a completed passport application, photos, my marriage certificate, my expired German passport, and a cheery smile. But Germany, oh she was playing hard to get. First of all, in order for Germany to recognize my name change, I have to bring my husband with me to the Consulate (the marriage certificate isn't enough; they need to see him in the flesh to believe that we're married), fill out a bunch of paperwork, and then wait 2 months for it to be processed. Second of all, my German passport is not proof enough that I am German. After all, it was issued in San Francisco, not in Houston, so how can they tell whether or not it's real? No, I have to have my birth certificate, despite the fact that I was born in the U.S. Needless to say, I will not be traveling on my German passport any time soon. Oh, Germany, you may be a lot of things, but easy you are not. Cross your fingers that the U.S. bureaucracy is a little more forgiving.

So, on to things I can control. Like buying a new coat that will actually keep me warm. I've picked out this one, but I'm having trouble choosing a color. Please, give me your advice! I tried on the ivory at the store, and it was gorgeous and I loved it, but have you met me? It would stay ivory for about 5 minutes. I wish they had it in a pretty kelly green, but alas.

Back to planning. If you need me, I'll be cuddling up with Rick Steves' Austria and Germany 2007.

So just call on me, brother

Time spent laughing with friends is like chicken soup for the soul in a funk (No, I haven't trademarked that yet, so if it speaks to you, feel free to make it the title of your next inspirational self-help book). Generally I like to spend my friend time one-on-one instead of in a crowd, but in the past week I have had a blast hanging out in groups.

Thursday night I had plans to see a movie with The Wise Soprano and the fabulous Ms. Wilson, but they got invited to an informal dinner party and invited me to crash and then see a late movie. It ended up being so much fun that we never even made it to the movie. There was yummy home-cooked food and conversations ranging from blidgets (don't ask) to the Red Sox to Stephen Colbert's presidential campaign. It was loud and hilarious, and I was completely out of my element, but I had an amazing time, and I have 3 new Facebook friends as a result (you know you've made a real connection with someone when they're willing to declare your friendship on Facebook).

Last night the Wolf Trap crew was in town hearing auditions, and we Houston Wolf Trap alums went to the original Ninfa's for dinner. It might have been a random Sunday night, but Ninfa's was hopping, so after spending 30 minutes waiting in line we ended up at the ersatz Ninfa's on Kirby and Richmond instead. We settled at a long table in the middle of the almost empty restaurant. Usually I hate long tables because you never get to chat with the people at the other end of the table, but there was a fair amount of mingling that went on, so I got plenty of face time with everyone. One WTOS alum from this summer was in town, and as a result of reading the blog, he requested the goat face. One strong margarita later, I didn't need any convincing. The best part of the night, though, was when Halloween costumes got brought up. Halloween is not my favorite holiday, so I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Oh, Jesus," to which CameraMan replied, "Jesus? Is that what you're dressing up as, with your red hair and your whore boots?" It was completely random, but I can't remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Tonight was another great night out with friends, this time my tech/stage management friends. We went to my favorite sushi place, then to my favorite ice cream place, and then we played like kids in a candy store... in a candy store. Highlights of the evening include the time I said "boner" instead of "banner" by mistake (I know, we're 12-year-olds) and the sticker that got put on my shoulder that said "I cackle and my eyes light up." Indeed.

So thanks, friends, for the good times. If you want to hang out again, I'll be there... with my red hair and my whore boots.

Dites-moi, pourquoi

I can't believe I'm on Day 28 of my month-long "Blog Every Day Even If It Kills Me Slowly And Painfully" project. What on earth will you do when you can't depend on reading Little Ms. Bossy every single day? Have no fear, the project has had exactly the effect I was hoping for (but didn't believe would actually happen), and writing has become a habit for me. I will probably continue to blog most days, especially when I'm off having fantastic European adventures.

Despite how much I enjoy writing, there are days when I have difficulty getting inspired to blog. You can recognize those days, I'm sure. Often they turn into List Days or descriptions of my mundane activities for the day. Sometimes it helps me to read others' writing, though. Today I was inspired by reading Yankeediva, who asked her readers why/how music touches them, and Grecchinois, who tackled the question of why he has made a career as a singer. It seemed like a sign that I should perhaps address the question of why I have chosen to be a director. The question always comes up in interviews, so over the years I've developed a pat explanation of sorts, but it's a question that deserves more than a simple answer.

I think I could write a dissertation on why I love directing, even though it's almost too nebulous a thing to pin down. I feel more vital and alive when I am directing than I do at any other time. I love that it comes naturally to me, while still challenging me in every rehearsal. The collaborative aspect of directing is exciting for me as well. Besides the obvious collaboration between directors and designers (of which I've had only limited experience), the relationship between directors and singers is complex and satisfying when it is truly a collaboration. The life of a director may be a solitary one, but it's not a career for the socially inept. A good director has to be able to really see her singers, in order to help them be the best they can possibly be onstage. You get to know people in a whole new way (for better or for worse) when you direct them, and I think when it goes right you can create deep connections. I'm not sure exactly what it is, but even as an assistant, there is rarely anywhere I would rather be than in rehearsal. I can be having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, but after a 3-hour rehearsal I am energized and inspired more often than not.

I've known for most of my life that I needed to make a career in the performing arts. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I suppose, depending on how you look at it), when I see an opera or a play, I find it impossible to shut off the critical director's voice in my head, so I'm constantly evaluating and judging production values and performances. I can't help it. There are moments onstage, though, and sometimes even whole productions, that move me and inspire me and make me want to be not just a better director, but a better person. No matter how many times it happens, it surprises me every time how much art can change us. My life has been shaped immeasurably by nights at the theatre, and to have the privilege to shape others' lives in that way is so great that I'm always amazed by people who don't want to make a life in the arts.

I better sign off before this actually does become dissertation-length. Turns out it wasn't so hard to think of something to blog about after all. Tonight I'm off to dinner with the Wolf Trappers, including two fellow bloggers, who already joined me today in the viewing booth for Act II of Daughter (happy family reunions onstage and off).