Mumbling Madly

Backstage at the Triple Door–both shows sold out in a crazy, delirious, frenzy that took us late, late into the night. Stay tuned for more details.

As we all brace ourselves against the worst hit on our economy since the Great Depression, I’m amazed at all the random bad news:

As a kid, I was pretty thrilled with the Mr. Yuck stickers. I proudly stuck them all over the house since the Mr. Yuck stickers give us the poison control number–but what happens if that number is no good? That’s right, our local poison control hotline might be shutting down!

Seattle has always allotted a certain amount of money that goes towards public art. This means if you have a construction site up, expect it to be ornamented. An example would be the future site of the Broadway light rail station. Not any more! It’s true that when comparing the importance of feeding the needy and the aesthetic value of a mural painted on a construction wall….well, feeding the homeless wins hands down.

NPR is always full of coping with the economy stories, from the earth shattering news of busted banks to the mundane, (i.e.): How to Break Up With Your Yoga Instructor.

Despite all of these heart wrenching, ‘aw, man!’ kind of stories, I still feel a certain thrill when the NPR host begins a sentence with, “President Obama.” Really? He’s our president! Really! And with that comes the joys of knowing that finally, finally, someone with the same mind-set as me is in the office. This includes a recent NPR story that made me cheer: Stimulus Package Includes Millions For The Arts

As many of you know, the FD is gearing up for a BIG SHOW at the Triple Door this Friday, Jan 30th. We were lucky enough this round to be able to have custom made unitards for the very special AHA number I’ve been co-choreographing. The fabric was hand chosen and shipped in from Spandex Housee in NYC. Measurements were taken (painstakingly by me), a design was drawn, and different bodices were requested by each dancer (a halter here, a tank there, 3/4 sleeves on one). Today we went in for our fittings and much, much fun was had by all.

Find myself exhausted with the juggling of teaching jobs, dancing, and keeping house. Husband is asleep on the couch at 6pm while watching Kung Fu Panda. This is where I have found him every night of the week at 10:30pm when I arrived home after rehearsal…now I see that it might not necessarily be the late hour that motivates his sleep. No…I think he’s a bear and he is hibernating for the cold, dark, weather.

I tossed it all out the window and bought new boots…they were my christmas present–which was delayed due to the storm. I love them. I’m not going to feel guilty, or worry about the fact that I had to fit my larger foot, or fret about how much I paid because I love them…

These are trying times, we all know that. These are the days when we put our head in our hands or rest our forehead on the kitchen table. These are the days when the latest issue of Money magazine shows up and it merely repeats what we read in the news, listen to on NPR, or watch on TV. Everything is down, nothing is up, no one knows for how long.

In a fit of nostalgia, my mind wandered to the easy days of sunshine in Fort Collins. When I could ride my bike to work; when making $12 dollars an hour selling dance clothes and teaching ballet on the side was enough for an ample living. My difficulties were limited to a random employee at the tattoo parlor keying my Honda, my cat swallowing a plastic washer, and losing a prime job opportunity to the evil matron of a competitive dance team. Isn’t it curious how those situations felt extremely dire? How hard they were at the time? And isn’t unfair that life merely throws new struggles, new hardships of larger magnitude at us every year? Perhaps this is what constitutes as sucking it up, personal growth, and LEARNING.

The sky has remained a permanent shade of grey…January is the darkest month. No matter that we passed up the winter solstice last month. No matter that we need the sunshine–for rejuvenation in addition to drying the remnants of my soiled lawn.

I don’t think I can take much more life lessons. It doesn’t help that all around me people are getting hit hard, with job cuts being announced at Boeing, acquaintances falling ill,

Nifty slide show can be found here.

After rising at dawn to dig a hole in raw sewage, I went to teach at a local community center. It was the first day of class–which is always, always insane. I had 8 kids, my maximum. While making the tough transition from classroom to the drama room a mother tried to intervene and stick a 9th kid (her son) in the class. I explained that I couldn’t accommodate her child, that I was maxed out, and that, if she wanted to avoid breaking her kid’s heart she needed to remove him immediately from the scene. Too late…the boy was already taking off his shoes and trying to join in.

8 kids feels like a lot when you’re alone, you remove a few from each class, and then you take all of them into the bathroom, wait for them to go, navigate through several winding halls, line them up outside the room, have them all take off their backpacks, coats, shoes, then get them all together so we can enter the classroom in a nice, relaxed fashion. Breaking the heart of a child whose mother made a very bad assumption (that her kid could take the class unannounced, unregistered, and without checking) was not on my list of things to do today.

Her kid lost his shit. I tried desperately to reign my 8 students in, ushering them into the classroom and firmly closing the door. The boy outside screamed, wailed, hollered, and began throwing his body against the door. I could hear his mother saying, “Do you want some Skittles?” My students looked at me horrified, several of them gulping back panicky tears. “Why is that little boy crying?” they whispered to me, the monster. I spoke in a hushed voice, I gave them reassuring touches, smiles, and we sang songs loudly over the sounds of screaming. After what felt like days the screaming stopped. We managed to hold it together through class, out the door, shoes back on, and then while hauling half of them back to their classrooms THERE IS THE MOTHER AND HER SON. The mother gives me a look of Pure Death. What am I suppose to do? I have children wiggling down the hall; I put my head down and chase after them.

After my students are back in their respective classrooms, I peek out in the hall and there is the mother…lingering around the front desk. She hates me, I think. She blames me for heartlessly not letting her kid take my class. I put her in a terrible position. She’s going to chew me out, not listen, despise me. So I hide. I find myself in the children’s reading nook, flipping through a coloring book entitled something like, “Josiah and the Lord’s Snake.” I realize that I’m not reading at all, but listening to my heart pound. I go round and round in my head…how am I going to approach this angry mother? Stick to my guns? Lay out the facts? Apologize and murmur, “Yes, yes, it was hard on us all.” All of above, I suppose, with a smile.

I get up and find that the mother is gone. The tension has left the air. I make my way down the maze of hallways to the room, gather up all my teaching stuff, and practically run out of the facility. When I get home I learn that it will cost a minimum of $2,000 to fix our sewer problem. There goes my savings, frivolities, and any hope of future travel. I go to the cupboard, pull down the vodka, and pour myself a shot.

I was on TV and didn’t even know it. Granted it was The Seattle Channel, but still:
http://www.seattlechannel.org/videos/video.asp?ID=6010819
Fast forward to about 2:10 and you’ll see me…(Fast forward all the way to 46:00 and you’ll see Rachel read the best smut I’ve ever heard).

Received so much love last night from a modest house at Annex for the monthly cabaret. Even though it felt desperately late (night stretching for hours and hours in the dead of Seattle winter), I arrived early for a canceled preview performance (remedied by going to Sam’s and watching a musical theater tribute show until my 9:30pm call), and I was placed in the center of the second half (meaning I was a nervous wreck throughout the whole show until I finally went onstage)…none of this mattered. I made my mark on the audience and all was regaled.