I'm still here.
I figured I'd better get an update in here, quick before it got to be a month since my last post. Shameful, I say.
And let me tell you, you'll just die from the excitement of this post. Wheeee.
My latest show opened last weekend: it's a musical revue, and while I've been seriously spoiled by the orchestration talents of the person who did the last musical revue I was involved with, this one shaped up all right after all. We're on stage, which I always enjoy--I feel like we're more a part of the whole production, instead of being relegated to the dungeon--pit! I meant to say pit--as we normally are, where actors fear to tread. Desegregation, my friends! It's a beautiful thing.
We took our Christmas tree down at last--well, I took the ornaments off, anyway--and we'll take the poor thing out to the backyard tonight and shoot it. The needles, showing tremendous tenacity, are still avoiding the fall to the floor, but the branches snap like uncooked spaghetti.
My student teacher started this week, which presents a completely new situation for me. I'm not used to being the one who knows what's going on, to be honest. I mean, I'm the one who spent four years at college being trained how to teach people who are at least 12 years older than the ones I ended up with, and have never been at a job more than 2.5 years--remember? But it seems to be going all right so far, though she is a rather, er, sheltered soul, to say the least. She didn't know that alternative high schools even existed, and also seems completely floored by the very idea that teenagers can have babies. ("My graduating class at Eden Prairie was close to 1000 and none of them had kids!" Oh, no no, of course they didn't, sweetie. I guess I'll have to break it to her slowly that when teens do have kids in Eden Prairie, this is where they hide them.)
In other news, we are in the process of breaking up with our realtor. Yes, right before Valentine's Day--harsh, I know. But it's not him, it's us.
Ha, no, it is him. From his behavior (going out of town unexpectedly, even at times he had previously said he'd be available to set up houses; making thinly veiled jabs at how long it's taking us to find a house; being unable to set house-showings up because people supposedly don't get back to him) I'd say he's just gotten sick of us, so that's fine--all of the above has made us pretty sick of him, too. We haven't had any showings in nearly three weeks, so yep--reckon it's time to move on.
And finally, I am having a diagnostic medical procedure tomorrow afternoon which I am hoping will turn up nothing too scary. If you can spare a little positive energy to wing in my direction, it'd be much appreciated.
And let me tell you, you'll just die from the excitement of this post. Wheeee.
My latest show opened last weekend: it's a musical revue, and while I've been seriously spoiled by the orchestration talents of the person who did the last musical revue I was involved with, this one shaped up all right after all. We're on stage, which I always enjoy--I feel like we're more a part of the whole production, instead of being relegated to the dungeon--pit! I meant to say pit--as we normally are, where actors fear to tread. Desegregation, my friends! It's a beautiful thing.
We took our Christmas tree down at last--well, I took the ornaments off, anyway--and we'll take the poor thing out to the backyard tonight and shoot it. The needles, showing tremendous tenacity, are still avoiding the fall to the floor, but the branches snap like uncooked spaghetti.
My student teacher started this week, which presents a completely new situation for me. I'm not used to being the one who knows what's going on, to be honest. I mean, I'm the one who spent four years at college being trained how to teach people who are at least 12 years older than the ones I ended up with, and have never been at a job more than 2.5 years--remember? But it seems to be going all right so far, though she is a rather, er, sheltered soul, to say the least. She didn't know that alternative high schools even existed, and also seems completely floored by the very idea that teenagers can have babies. ("My graduating class at Eden Prairie was close to 1000 and none of them had kids!" Oh, no no, of course they didn't, sweetie. I guess I'll have to break it to her slowly that when teens do have kids in Eden Prairie, this is where they hide them.)
In other news, we are in the process of breaking up with our realtor. Yes, right before Valentine's Day--harsh, I know. But it's not him, it's us.
Ha, no, it is him. From his behavior (going out of town unexpectedly, even at times he had previously said he'd be available to set up houses; making thinly veiled jabs at how long it's taking us to find a house; being unable to set house-showings up because people supposedly don't get back to him) I'd say he's just gotten sick of us, so that's fine--all of the above has made us pretty sick of him, too. We haven't had any showings in nearly three weeks, so yep--reckon it's time to move on.
And finally, I am having a diagnostic medical procedure tomorrow afternoon which I am hoping will turn up nothing too scary. If you can spare a little positive energy to wing in my direction, it'd be much appreciated.