Seriously, am I just cursed?

I'm thinking I probably shouldn't do any more theatre with this particular theatre company. Why, you ask? Hasn't it been fun? Is it not artistically satisfying? Do you hate the people involved?

Oh, nothing like that, I assure you. It just seems that every time I work with this company, something happens to me. Physically. Something...not so good. Something different every time, and while I'm certainly no stranger to accident and injury, still, I can't help but wonder...is the universe trying to tell me something? (/Carrie Bradshaw)

Four shows in four years.

Show number one (which I know I've blogged about, but I'm too lazy to look it up and link it): my first musical in many, many years, and it managed to coincide precisely with the first cold I'd had in five years, and the ONLY time I've ever completely lost my voice. I mimed an entire performance. Big fun.

Show number two: another musical. A couple of days before rehearsals started, I fell and broke my arm. Did the entire rehearsal period (including dance rehearsals) in a cast, did the show with my arm wrapped in an ace bandage. (Didn't tell my doctor, for fear he'd freak out and forbid me to do it.)

Show number three: driving to rehearsal the week the show opened, an idiot pulled out in front me. I couldn't stop in time, and smacked into him. Smashed up my car, bruised my chest and cracked a rib. Was in pain every time I breathed for the whole run of the show.

Show number four: the current show. Said theatre company now has a policy whereby the cast of the show is required to do load-in/load-out of the set. (For the record, I think this is insane. Things can happen when heavy things are being lifted and carried, under the best of circumstances. What if one of your actors is put out of commission? It's not like we have understudies. Nonetheless, I wanted to do the show, so I agreed to it.) I wasn't thrilled about it, naturally, but I've always had a nice strong back (New Guy and I moved every bit of his furniture into his apartment when he came to town, and I never had a twinge) so I didn't worry about it, particularly. Nothing I lifted/moved seemed to be a problem AS I lifted/moved it, but a few minutes later...what's that unsettling feeling in my lower back? Oh, dear. Is this what they mean by "throw out your back"? Is this what happens when you start to get old? I made it through rehearsal, stopped at the drugstore on the way home for aromatic old people cream, and spent a few hours on a heating pad.

This morning? Well...I was able to move. And really, it only hurt when I sat down, tried to get up from sitting, or needed for some reason to bend over. You know...EVERY SINGLE PART OF MY MORNING ROUTINE. (I attempted to drop blobs of canned cat food onto the platter on the floor without bending. That was amusing. There may or may not have been some plops that hit cat heads. Hee.) I didn't for a moment consider shaving my legs, and the hair dryer? Down there under the bathroom sink? Totally not worth it. Getting up and down from the toilet was easier, seeing as how the previous occupant of my house was (literally) a 100-year-old woman who had nice little handles installed everywhere she needed them, including one very handy one across from the toilet. God bless her.

I'm pleased to report, though, that moving has become considerably easier as the hours have passed and my muscles have loosened up, so I don't think doing the show is going to be any problem. I'm just going to be miserable first thing in the morning for a few days. I mean, even more miserable than my usual "my god, do I really have to get up and go to work again" misery. Gah.

So, what do you think? Cursed?

Okay, okay, half-FULL.

I've been in such a funk (and I think you all know why), that I now feel compelled to stop my whining and moping and getting teary-eyed and feeling sorry for myself and remember that there are still good things about my life. There are, damn it...and I will come up with a few of them here even if it takes me all day. Heh.

Okay, well...it's spring. Officially and otherwise. Flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and I'm wearing flip-flops and sandals almost all the time. That is a definite plus!

New Guy is being really sweet when I do see him, and I'm determined to enjoy the hell out of whatever time we have left. He's excited to see the play when it opens (just before he leaves for yet another full week out-of-town...boo-hoo), and I also told him he might have to come back to town to see me onstage when next I do something more...substantive (and less Three's Company-like farce--hee). And he seemed to think he would like to do that...and that made me feel good.

Also, as much as I would like him to stay in my life, and will continue to hope down deep inside that we're NOT completely through come June, I have to say...he seems to be in a much happier place now. I think making the decision to make a job change really lightened his emotional load, so to speak, and getting things out in the open with me seems to have made things better between us for now. So, there's that.

Rehearsals are going well--lots of laughter, which I very much need right now.

My pets and I are all relatively healthy. Even heartwormy Rover seems to be hanging in there. I'm particularly grateful for my health when I do my weekly litterbox scooping for my cancer-battling friend. (It's been almost six months now, with no end in sight. Please send thoughts/prayers/good vibes her way.) Of course, watching her go through it alone, basically (despite being engaged three times, she never married), and thinking "omigod, what if that were me?" only makes me sadder that Mr. Right seems further away than ever. But I'm looking for the GOOD here, right? So...

I am happy to be able to swallow. Seriously. As much as I would like to get motivated to lose some more weight, I'm happy to be able to eat. (My friend can't, really. The radiation burned her esophagus so badly it still hasn't healed.)

Lately, I have been most happy to swallow these:

I can't get enough of these. I'm not sure why (and, for the record, the "lemon chicken" version I find very unpleasant), but I just crave them.

I've also recently discovered Greek yogurt. One of the food reporters for the local paper was raving about it. Better than Brown Cow, I thought? How can that be? Well, try this:

Fage brand greek yogurt with fruit. Oh my gosh, it's good. It's incredibly creamy and smooth. SO yummy.

What else, what else?

I'm wearing sparkly, leopard-spotted flip-flops right now, courtesy of my mother the Avon lady (some sort of ordering mistake, I gather), and really...who isn't cheered up by seeing sparkly, leopard-spotted flip-flops at the end of her legs? And, if I get tired of the leopard spots, they came in a set with some sparkly zebra-striped ones, as well. So I'm all set in the sparkly flip-flop department. (Hee.)

I also have to say that I very much appreciate my friends (of both the bloggy and "real life" variety) telling me repeatedly (and apparently sincerely) that if New Guy and I ARE through, then it's HIS loss. And then offering to kick his ass. Thanks, guys! You really know how to cheer a girl up.

At least it's almost spring

So, what's been going on around here?

Well, New Guy is enjoying spring break with his kids this week, so I'm not seeing him. I'm trying to practice getting used to him not being around. And how's that going? Well, fine. If by "fine" you mean "I tear up whenever I think about it, so I'm trying (somewhat unsuccessfully) not to think about it." Moving on, before it happens again. Sniff.

The "Fridiron" went really well last weekend. The early rehearsals were a little...worrisome, but things started to click mid-week, and the shows themselves were lots of fun. We had good crowds and they ate it up. Both the current and former mayors were in attendance one night, a county commissioner and the state attorney general in attendance the next, and they all seemed to enjoy themselves immensely, even as we were mocking some of them to their faces. (Gotta love a politician who can laugh at him/herself.) The attorney general's wife told me my voice was "stellar," and, more importantly, New Guy came and HE was impressed. There was a large bottle of Patron tequila backstage each night, but no one got too blitzed to perform, and a good time was had by all. (Though did you know that tequila will eat right through a dixie cup, so if you're doing your expensive shots out of one, you shouldn't let it sit around any length of time? Word to the wise.) And really, any time I get to don a pink wig and white sunglasses and cavort around with a couple of feather boas as I portray one Ms. Britney Jean Spears is a good time for me. Plus, word on the street is that the Attorney General said our show was better than the one in OKC a few weeks ago, and we're always happy to best our friends from down the 'pike. Hee.

I had promised the director of the play I'm doing, from which I had to take a week off rehearsals to do the "Fridiron," that I would use any backstage downtime to work on my lines, and you know what? I did. Really. With the end result that I started back into rehearsals this week with my lines pretty well down--two days before official off-book day. Whoo hoo!

It's a very silly play--I referred to it once as "farce by the book," but I think it's going to be very, very funny, so if you're in Tulsa April 4-6 or 10-12, you should come see it.

And that's really all that's been going on in my life. Performances, rehearsals, already missing New Guy so much I can't stand it (and he's not even gone yet)...you know, the usual.

What a beautiful expression of true love

I was watching a bit of Jerry Springer on my lunch hour (I know--shut up!) and one of the two men competing for the affections of one "lovely" "lady" named "Rhonda" used his remarkable skill as a poet to try to get the edge over the other fellow. Who might be a brilliant poet, as well, but we would never know because he had a speech impediment which rendered him very nearly unintelligible. The only word Jerry and I made out clearly, when the guy attempted to articulate what made him the better man for Ms. Rhonda, was "psoriasis." Yeah, I'm not sure what that had to do with anything, either. But apparently Rhonda itches. And I was apparently the only one who got Jerry's "well, that's heartbreaking" reference. (I love Jerry, for the record. I know--shut up!)

Anyway, back to the poem. Which I think I remember well enough to paraphrase it for you here. Just picture it being read aloud by a scruffy, unshaven redneck, with a beer belly and no shirt. (I think it got ripped off by the other guy in a fight, but I missed that part.)

R--is for ribs, that you like to eat.
H--is for hot dogs, 'cause you like to eat 'em after the ribs.
O--is for only one for me.
N--is for night, I want to spend with you.
D--is for dairy, 'cause I know you like milk.
A--is for alcoholic, which I have become since you left me.

Isn't that beautiful? I got a little tear in my eye. Rhonda (who I would guess is NOT a vegan) did, too...but then she told him it was over, and then his sister came out, and she and Rhonda pulled each other's hair for a while, and then I went back to work.

I only wish someone would write a poem that beautiful for ME someday. Well, you know...without the carnivorous angle. "L is for lentils." Heh.

My blog friends kick ass

First, a note of thanks to all of you who offered to kick New Guy's butt for me. It's so nice to know the blogosphere has your back.

I don't think it will be necessary, though, ultimately. We finally stopped dancing around the topic last night, and discussed what's going to happen at the end of the school year. The one certain thing? He's leaving the current job. Which almost certainly means he's leaving town, as well. I can't blame him--he's been miserable in that job, and that's not good for anyone. He's hoping to find something even closer to his kids, and that's understandable, too, of course.

What am I going to do? Enjoy his company as much as possible between now and June. Then he will leave, and I will fall into a deep, deep depression, which I will claw my way out of by doing non-stop theatre and perhaps adopting a second dog. (I seem to be better at finding animals than men, to be sure.)

How's that for a plan?

Take that, Coco.

Well, I'd say my accessorizing is having the intended effect. When I walked into rehearsal last night the director said, "Oh, don't you look smart. As always. And also artsy, somehow." If I had to encapsulate my personal sense of style into two words, those might be the two I'd choose: smart and artsy. I was tempted to whip off the scarf and say, "how do you feel about the outfit without the scarf--does that still work for you? 'Cause Coco Chanel says to take one thing OFF, but I ADDED one thing instead--what do you think?" But I didn't, because I am not completely insane. Not yet.

Rehearsals have been lots of fun, in general. I think I've laughed more in the last week than I have in the last year. I'm a little worried that, just as we're really getting rolling, I have to take the next week off and go do the "Fridiron," and then the next week after THAT I need to be off-book for the play, and I'm not quite sure how all that's going to happen, but I'll figure it out, I suppose. I did once learn an entire script in 4 days, as a last-minute replacement, and still got the best review of anyone in the play, so perhaps I just work best under pressure. Heh.

At least I have plenty of stuff to keep me busy and occupy my mind, since New Guy seems to have to have done a little back-sliding this week on his vow to be more considerate. Oh, it hasn't been terrible, but it hasn't been all that great, either.

And life goes on.

I have an addiction.

It's true. My name is lizgwiz, and I am an accessories addict.

You know how you're supposed to dress and accessorize, look in the mirror and take OFF one thing? Well, this morning I dressed, accessorized, looked in the mirror and ADDED a scarf. Coco Chanel would NOT approve.

Seriously, I love the accessory section--earrings, rings, bracelets, necklaces, brooches, ankle bracelets, watches, scarves, hats, purses, sunglasses. (Don't like toe rings, though...how odd. Heh.) Even that most permanent of accessories--the tattoo. I like feeling...put together. I like seeing what goes together, which things complement each other and my outfit. Sometimes I just like sparkling (with something other than my wit and personality--hee). And, though Coco might disagree, I don't think I overdo, generally. I seldom wear more than one ring at a time on each hand, and NEVER more than 4 earrings in each ear. (Hee.) I don't feel fully dressed in just clothes.

I realized the extent of my addiction last month when I ventured to the mall to finish off a Christmas gift card. Now, I desperately need new clothes. I've lost enough weight in the last year that most of my clothes are, if not falling off of me, exactly, at least NOT well-fitted. What did I leave the store with? Socks and sunglasses.

Well, that's practical, you say. Yeah...but just out of curiosity I'm going to do a little poll.

With regards to sunglasses, do you own:

a) 1 pair. Who needs more than that?

b) 2 pairs. The everyday pair, plus a backup in case of loss or damage.

c) 3 or more pairs. Different styles, different colors...very important in coordinating the sunglasses with the rest of the accessories and the outfit.

I'll be interested to see how this comes out. And, by the way, if anyone sees any purple sunglasses out there--and I mean purple frames, not just purplish-tinted lenses-- let me know. I'm in the market for a pair.

And if you couldn't participate in the poll because you don't wear sunglasses, then may I ask, WHY THE HELL NOT? Do you WANT crow's feet and cataracts? Listen to old Auntie Liz...get yourself at least one pair with a generous coverage area and 100% UV protection and wear them 365 (or 366) days a year. You can thank me later.

Why I wish Hillary had tanked last night

With all due respect to her supporters...I wish it was over and done, and Barack had the nomination sewn up.

Why?

Well, here's the conversation I got to listen to this morning, courtesy of my ultra-conservative co-workers (I'm the token liberal around here--yes, it's every bit as fun as it sounds):

"Just think how entertaining it's going to be for the next few weeks, watching them tear each other apart."

Affirmative giggles.

"Yeah, Obama was campaigning like a gentleman, but now that she's gone negative, he'll have to, too."

More giggles.

And, sadly, I AGREE. Now that she's gone and played the "fear card," the gloves will be off. (Why, oh WHY, Hillary? I was hoping we'd lost that tactic when Giuliani dropped out, tail between his legs.) It's going to get ugly, and it's playing right into John McCain's hands. ARRRGHH! Great idea--let's give them all the ammunition they need! Why make 'em work for it?

Bah. And Hillary had the nerve to say on the Daily Show earlier this week that the competition "would be healthy for the Democratic party." Bah again.

Mind you, I have nothing against Hillary as a person, and until those "it's 3 in the morning" commercials, nothing really against her as a candidate. BUT SHE'S DIVISIVE. And I think those people lucky enough not to live and work in the middle of a hotbed of conservatives don't quite get how very much they HATE her. It's completely irrational, their hatred, but it's very real. And I worry, if she's the candidate, that Hillary-haters will come out in droves to vote AGAINST her. Not FOR McCain--they're lukewarm at best about him, but AGAINST her.

And let's talk about that "3 in the morning" bullshit. Come on--can anyone in the world say with certainty how they would react to "that" call? Certainly no amount of "experience" can train you for that. I'm sure all the candidates think they would react appropriately, but how can you know that with certainty unless or until "that" call comes? I mean, do you think even Dubya really thought he'd go catatonic for 7 minutes, holding an upside-down book about a pet goat, then disappear into AirForce One for several hours?

I think the best we can do is vote for someone who seems both to have a level head, and to not easily panic. I would have thought that either Hillary or Barack would have fit the bill on that score. Now I'm not so sure. One of them seemed pretty panicked the last few days. We'll see how the other one fares now. Sigh.