Punctuation Saves Lives

I remembered this image when I was searching for a title to start writing today’s post. I was going to call it:

Jesus Christ. What Happened?

and then I realized I could also call it:

Jesus Christ (what happened).

And then I giggled uncontrollably because I’m doing production on a show that has Jesus in it and it’s the reason I’ve been posting so sparsely and sporadically since December. I would like to say that everyone here at work in the theater turned around and asked me what I was laughing at but the truth is they’re all so used to me being on auto-giggle by now that no one paid any attention and even if they had, they wouldn’t laugh anyway.

We’re at that point.

One of my favorite places in New York is the Westerly Market. It’s a small natural foods grocery store that I love mostly because it has tasty snacks and my favorite chocolate. They have healthy things too, including a juice bar.

We had a strangely-timed lunch break today because we’re shooting B-roll (video to be used for publicity) so I went to Westerly and hit the juice bar. I got a shot of wheatgrass while I was waiting for my drink.

I dig wheatgrass. Sue me. And yes it does, in fact, taste like grass. I’m pretty sure when I was an infant I spent a significant portion of my crawling months eating grass. It’s just that good to me.

The drink I got today is called a Maca Firecracker. It’s coconut, cinnamon, agave, cayenne, and maca. It’s divine. Heavy on the cayenne, easy on the agave, as per my request.

It was perfect.

I paid at the juice bar ($12.50. No, I’m not making that up) and then grabbed my tasty snacks and went to the front counter to pay for them. You have to do that separately because making drinks that involve pressing wheatgrass and hacking open coconuts is quite time-consuming, and they can’t mess around with ringing up your tasty snacks back there at the juice bar.

At the front counter, I pay for my tasty snacks and then watch, like it’s in slow motion: My sleeve catching my Maca Firecracker and knocking it off the counter. The cup flipping upside down. Me screaming “nooooo!” in a very Wookieish voice. Half of my nectar of the gods rushing out of the broken lid.

Here’s the thing about a Maca Firecracker. When it’s spilled on the floor, it looks like vomit. I’ve never had so much personal space anywhere in New York City. I’m considering carrying around rubber vomit with me just to get everyone out of my hula hoop.

Oh, so back to the Jesus Christ (what happened) thing. I’m in production, blah blah blah. The hours are long, yadda yadda yadda. Also, there a lot of screens. It looks like this:

By the end of the first week of tech rehearsals I had the worst case of screen-related eye strain I’ve ever had (even worse than the case I got when I stayed up all night and wrote this post over the summer). When we finally reached the day off I had to lay around with my eyes shut. I didn’t even make it to yoga.

I had to read analogue books for a whole week (I read Sara Zarr’s How To Save A Life and Ree Drummond (aka The Pioneer Woman)’s Black Heels To Tractor Wheels)

Even now, ten days later, I can feel my retinas singeing. It’s still bad enough that I’m not even going to attempt to fix the alignment of these pictures.

Speaking of wheatgrass (and we were, earlier, I swear), there’s a guy I work with who is friends with a guy who started a wheatgrass company out of his apartment back in the day . The mice kept getting into and eating the wheatgrass. And the more they got into it, the harder they were to exterminate.

I feel like the wheatgrass people could make a motto out of that somehow.

I guess none of that really had anything to do with punctuation.

One and Done Sunday #13

Welcome to One and Done Sunday. One picture and five links that are worth your time.

Saturday night I finished up at my old show, at least until the summer. I’m officially down to one gig now and even though we’re about to go into the long days there, it’s good to not have a split focus anymore.

At home our Harry Potter Sunday series continues. Last week was pre-empted by the Super Bowl. #5 was bummed out about that, but I informed him that as his stepmother it was my moral obligation to force him to watch football. He changed alliances with every score until finally #2 said to him, “If this were an actual war, I’m pretty sure everybody would start shooting you right now!”

This week we’re on number four, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Before we got started, Casey ate the whipped cream off #5’s milkshake.

#5 drank it anyway.

I would have done the same thing.

There’s a scene in the movie where Harry is fighting a dragon and it breaks free and chases him to the roof of Hogwarts. There they land, Harry hanging on for dear life, trying to reach his broom while bits of roof break away underneath him, the dragon clawing towards him, bashing its tail and sending debris flying. At the climactic moment, #5 says, “They’re gonna have to reshingle that.”

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This week’s picture demands an explanation.

When I first went on the road, I owned three pairs of shoes. None of them were cute. On my second tour I was CC’s assistant, and he was traveling eight pairs of shoes.

I gave him a lot of grief for that.

He, in turn, gave me an empty road box for my stuff. Suddenly, I had almost nine cubic feet of storage space to fill with things that I didn’t have to haul through the airport.

I found out I liked shoes.

I also found out that CC and I have very different styles.

honestly — Honestly, sometimes I wonder how we ever got together.

Recently I flipped out over the above Ariat boots on Zappos. Let’s just say CC was less than enthusiastic about them.

No, let’s repeat what he actually said to me: You are way too old for those boots.

I’m positive that what he meant was Those rock. You should totally buy them!

I did in fact buy them, because I was sure he wanted me to, and I always get at least three compliments every time I wear them. Usually in front of CC.

Which is awesome.

Also awesome is that he got me long-stemmed roses on Saturday for finishing up my gig and I was the only girl with flowers on the subway.

Now for your links. I gotta be honest, I didn’t read anything this week. So while Harry Potter was on I went to some places I can count on.

First, four artists. I hope to be bringing you more about one of them soon, but for now, check out their sites:

This chick does cool shizz with dead animals. No lie. Kimberly Witham.

Amazing color and shape. Love! Jay Gaskill.

I love all of this lady’s work, but her countryside photos really speak to my soul, being mostly shot in Indiana, where I grew up: Jolie Buchanan.

I work with this guy when he’s not off doing fabulous artistic projects: Davis Duffield.

Finally, because sometimes you just need to laugh your ass off about a homicidal monkey: The Bloggess- Would You Like to Buy a Monkey?

Happy Sunday.

Too Much Cuteness For One Post (not that it’s stopping me)

I was reading and commenting on some blogs this morning and I noticed one of the results of this work schedule I’m keeping right now: I’m not funny. I’m not feeling funny, I’m not making anybody laugh, and I am not amused.

Clearly, it’s time for puppy pictures.

We finished up at the shop last week and started loading the new show into the theater. I’m still at my old show at night for another week. It’s good to finally be in the door loading in, and we have a kick ass crew.

But I will miss the shop dogs, Gracie and Tucker.