A Chorus Line has always been, and will always be, my favorite musical. Period.
I love other ones—the music in Aida was grand, I don't think I ever stopped smiling in Chicago, and Fosse...well, Fosse made me want to jump in and out of costumes, and characters, all day long.
But ever since I was little, it was A Chorus Line. Yes, I wanted to be a dancer (I think it's safe to say that almost every little girl wants to be one), but it was more than that. Even at a young age, I understood that you had two choices in life: you could take a chance and do what your heart and soul desired or you could go with the flow. One choice meant a life filled with the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. The other meant consistency. I easily empathized, and identified, with the dancers in A Chorus Line. I understood what they faced and felt...and I applauded them. I knew, at age 10 or 11 or however old I was when I first saw the show, I didn't have the guts to do it—to take on rejection, be judged, fail to make it in the eyes of others—just to pursue a dream and do something outside the "norm." I wanted to. I really, really wanted to. But I didn't know how. I didn't know how to go for it and I didn't know how to deal with it. So I rooted for those that could (and did)...from the comfort of my assigned seat in the audience.
My Granny took me to see A Chorus Line at the Orpheum in downtown Minneapolis. I'm not sure exactly how old I was but I wasn't old enough to know what gonorrhea, boob jobs, or homosexuality were...or care enough to ask. It was my first real theater experience and I loved every second of it. And I know Granny loved it too. I remember her getting a kick out of the "Tits and Ass" song. I could literally feel her joy as she laughed her unique laugh throughout the number. (To this day, when my brother perfectly imitates her laugh, it takes me back to that moment.) And I remember the feeling I had when the show was over and the side doors of the theater, which deposited patrons directly onto the sidewalk, were thrown wide open. Granny must have taken me to a matinée because as we left the natural darkness of the theater and stepped outside, I was shocked by the brightness of the natural light, even on a gray, Minnesota-winter afternoon, and was forced to shield my eyes, still wide in awe over the experience. But in my blindness, I was giddy. I wanted to run up and down the sidewalk and tell passersby what a brilliant show it was, what an experience it was, and how lucky and special I felt to have had my Granny right there beside me. At that time, I didn't know why it was so special that Granny had taken me. But I knew it was.
Last night I was giddy again. Hopping up and down like the little girl I was more than 25 years ago, I had that same damn happy feeling as I walked into the Ahmanson Theatre in downtown L.A. to see A Chorus Line once again. This time I was with my hubby, Emmett, and our friends, Kelly and Bill. From the second Zach shouted, "Five, six, seven, eight," lights bursting on, dancers—all legs and arms and personality—filling the stage…to the last sparkly, glittery-gold number—all lights and mirrors and tightly performed steps in perfect unison—I was flooded with memory and emotion. Words to songs I never knew I knew came out of me number by number. Dancers whose names I had long forgotten rolled off the tip of my tongue as each made their way on stage and I whispered into Emmett's ear what I liked and didn't like about their character. And when I walked out of that theater at the end of the show, the faux darkness that comes with urban life was a sharp contrast to the pure glow and warmth within me. Who cares if the actor playing Zach sucked. Who cares if the Ahmanson Theater's decor was bland compared to that of the glamorous Orpheum. Who cares if, in our group of four, only Bill and I were oozing orgasmic pleasure, quoting line after line, jumping in and around and through the stories of the 17 dancers. He was just as in love with the concept of A Chorus Line as I. It was almost like having Granny right there with me. Almost. Except this time, I knew what gonorrhea, boob jobs, and homosexuality were...but I still didn't care enough to care.
I don’t know what Granny told her friends about our Chorus Line experience. I'm not sure what she would have written in her journal, had she had one, or blog, had it been invented yet. But as we walked to the bus stop after the show, my hand firmly yet tenderly held by hers, I know this: people PARTED for us. Like Moses and the Red Sea. When we walked by, they stepped aside. They moved out of our way. Some even took a look back over their shoulder as we passed. We didn't duck or dodge or maneuver our way through the crowd like we normally did. We walked. Straight. Like we were stepping up to the line. With nothing and no one in our way. It was, indeed, one singular sensation.
| "Cup of Conversation" is the name of our Circle Journey book. | |
| Starting fresh, starting new. Whatever we want to do. Two pages each and every time. With nothing to limit us...not even lines! A full spread for you and a full spread for me. A full book of our creativity! | |
| "Finished" entry: photos, lists, comments, observations...just random bursts of fun. | |
A few months ago I ordered How to Make Books by Esther K. Smith from Purgatory Pie Press. It was a spur-of-the-moment purchase...something very rare for me to do. But the picture and description of it was so beautiful and the review on SuperNaturale was tantalizing so I took the leap and bought it. | My first "Instant Book" | |
| I'm unstoppable now! Books, books everywhere! |
One of the best things about living in Southern California is you can be surrounded by 18 million neighbors one minute and the next, be on top of the world all by your lonesome. Specifically, I'm talking about the San Gabriel Mountains in the Angeles National Forest.
Emmett and I ventured out last Sunday and tackled the Icehouse Canyon/Icehouse Saddle/Chapman Trail hike (9 miles roundtrip), which we've done once before. Located in the Mount Baldy area, it is, perhaps, my favorite hike in the San Gabriels. I love the challenge (at one point on the trail you climb 2600 feet in 3.5 miles...ouch!) and I love the surroundings (pine, cedar, oak, sycamore, towering canyon walls, huge boulders, rivers and waterfalls, snow, glorious and colorful birds, wildflowers, views, views, views). I also love the idea that I am hiking on a huge chunk of the earth's crust. The San Gabriel Mountains are "young" in a geological sense. It's my understanding that they are "only" 10 million to 12 million years old (makes my paltry 37 years on this planet seem like nutin’ but a hiccup, if even that) and were formed when two plates came head-to-head like a couple of male rams head butting it out over a lady ram. I may be totally misinformed about this but who cares...I like the story so I'm sticking with it. The trail is well established but it definitely feels like you're walking on stuff belched from the gut of the earth...tons of rocks that have either been deposited by torrential floods in years past or that have slid down the ever-changing mountain top and sides or risen up from the underbelly. Gotta love a mountain with attitude.
Too see pictures and more comments, click on the “more” link below.
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| Come on...you have to admit these Ojo de Cabra (goat's eye) beans are beautiful! | |
| The lovely Ojo de Cabra beans with onion and serrano pepper in my blue-walled crockpot (who would have thought a crockpot could be so pretty?) | |
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Emmett gets ready to enjoy the simple pleasures of "just beans." |
| http://www.myheritage.com/collage |
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In no particular order, with no timeline and no expectations, below is a list of things I want to do. For why and how this list got started, click here.
(the words in bold color are my responses)
(Barb) 1. Making a delicious meal with fresh ingredients makes me happy.
(Emmett) 1. Jogging in the rain makes me happy.
(Barb) 2. I would like to go sailing, please.
(Emmett) 2. I would like another, please.
(Barb) 3. A White Lady (the drink) tastes SO good!
(Emmett) 3. Everything my wife makes tastes SO good!
(Barb) 4. Monday is my favorite day of the week because it's the beginning and I love beginnings.
(Emmett) 4. No day is my favorite day of the week because all days are different.
(Barb) 5. I will honor my best feature.
(Emmett) 5. My wife thinks my nose is my best feature.
(Barb) 6. We could learn so much from our pets.
(Emmett) 6. We could learn so much from trees in the wind.
(Barb) 7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to just being with my husband, tomorrow my plans include going to a play and Sunday, I want to start my new blog!
(Emmett) 7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to a fire in the fireplace, tomorrow my plans include a date with my wife and Sunday, I want to read my new book about the Mojave Desert!
Here are some links to other people's SPC that I especially liked:
(the words in bold color are my responses)
1. The last compliment I got was from the wine store clerk; he said, "May I see some ID, please?"
2. I'm reading billboards.
3. I woke up today and thought, "Really?"
4. Why does it take a near-death experience for people to do what they really want to do?
5. The last thing I ate was granola and yogurt.
6. January... is just the beginning.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to writing, tomorrow my plans include writing and Sunday, I want to write!
A customer provided me a wonderful opportunity to do something fun with her Hope's Flame order. She gave me a list of names and descriptions of people attached to those names and asked me to inscribe the Charmed candles in a style that met their personality. What a great time I had making them!
High of my list of things to do when I walked away from Corporate Life two years ago was to participate in a volunteer program abroad. I knew there might not be another time in my life when I would be able to devote weeks, if not months, to such an adventure. For most of us, our employers aren't too eager (or willing) to allow us to take that kind of time off, unpaid or otherwise, and still come back to a job, let alone our same position. So when I decided to become proactively unemployed, I immediately started looking for volunteer opportunities in countries I had been wanting to spend time in.
And that's how I ended up spending four weeks in a conservation program in New Zealand. For months now, Connections for Women editor, Gerry Hogan, has been asking me to write about the experience...and for whatever reason I found it almost impossible to do so. Sometimes there are no words, no phrases or combination of sentences, that can describe an experience. Anything I put down seemed to lessen, almost cheapen, what I had gone through. Plus, this was MY experience. It was mine. Like an amazing dessert that blows your taste buds away, sometimes you just don't want to share.
But for whatever reason, on the one-year anniversary of my adventure, I started to write about it. I'm not sure if it was the nostalgia, the distance from the experience, a sudden craving for more of something similar, or what...but the words started to flow a little more each day. Next thing I knew, I had a piece I thought Gerry would like. And she did. You can check it out in this month's Connections for Women: http://www.connectionsforwomen.com/article_details.php?article_id=204&cat=6
(the words in bold color are my responses)
1. My favorite drink of 2007 was the Herbaltini.
2. I'm most tempted by potato chips (or note cards...it's a toss up).
3. Today I want to feel a sense of accomplishment.
4. The last thing I took a picture of was the waterfall at Lake Shrine Meditation Gardens.
5. You and I have memories worth exploring.
6. The most recent movie I’ve seen that I really enjoyed was Turtles Can Fly.
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to my husband spinning records for me, tomorrow my plans include hosting a dinner party for friends, and Sunday, I want to go for a hike in the Angeles National Forest.
Here are some links to other people's SPC that I especially liked: