And Soon I'll Hear Old Winter's Song

I don't really have anything to say. But that's never stopped me.

We turned the clocks back. So did you, I'd wager. I remember how much harder this week was when I lived on the East coast. It got really, really stupid cold the same week that it got dark at like 4 p.m. And that always sent me into a spiral of something-or-other. I guess a spiral of curling up in my mukluks in the Antique Gold arm chair I'd found on someone's lawn with a juicy book until spring. I was a lot more literary before the internet came along.

It was Joy's birthday this weekend. We saw Megamind and went to Sammy's to celebrate. The girls' minds were blown by the Messy Sundae--it's like every year they forget they exist and then suddenly, YOWZA! You mean the fudge is not confined to the insides of the glass??? Megamind was good, I thought. I don't usually like Will Ferrell but he was sort of sweet. And Brad Pitt, Tiny Fey, Jonah Hill and David Cross were dependably hilarious. I have noticed a disturbing trend of all these animated kids films having some serious daddy and mama drama going on. Someone is always needing redemption or vindication from some sort of familial crisis. I guess it's the universal story.

Today I took Jarrah to her preschool friend Jacqueline's house for a surprise birthday party. Jacqueline didn't seem all that stoked to be surprised. And distinctly unstoked to have noisemakers aimed at her brain. I collected them as discreetly as possible. But she was very happy to have brunch and cake and crafts with her friends, and I had a nice time because it was a small crowd and, well, there were mimosas. It's very civilized to start a Sunday morning with champagne, I think. It made me a tiny bit sad that Jarrah hasn't seen Jacqueline since June, and they will probably soon forget each other. I'm a bit negative about childhood friendships because none of mine lasted. Which I guess is not that unusual.

We rushed out of there because we had tickets to Willa Wonka and the Chocolate Factory at the Junior Theater. The theater is awesome, and they were really on in this one. The 14- and 13-year-old Willy and Charlie were total stars. But the actor who really got me in standing o mood played Augustus Gloop. He knocked my socks right off with his voice like an angel and the way he danced in lederhosen while belting "I Eat More." I mean, what a genius song. Who ever thought Augustus Gloop could steal the show?

Jarrah is still enjoying school, except for the five minutes each morning she spends moaning "Why do you always wake me up in the middle of the night?" Please record those questions on the pink and goldenrod forms and file with the appropriate authorities, Jarrah. Because I'd like some answers, too. She has been doing some "environmental spelling" (I love these early childhood pedagogical terms I'm picking up) when we drive around and still loves reading us books. I haven't heard a peep about her behavior from anyone and I'm guessing that's a good thing. She seems very fond of everyone in her class and knows all their names, first and last. She's also told me several times how bats use "echo location." I guess she thinks I might understand it eventually.

My play has been fraught with drama. Last week we had to rehearse in a closet-sized room with the doors and windows sealed and no A/C when it had been in the '90s all day. For several hours. The room also had about 20 people in it and my nose was practically touching the wall when I had to go "downstage." Tensions are high and the director and her "stage manager" have been screaming at us a lot. I mean, we kind of suck right now, sure, but I don't think the screaming is helping. Instead it's making me really nervous and I keep forgetting my lines. I told David I am sad because it's official now--I will appear in exactly half the numbers in the show. Meaning I wish I had more stage time. And David said I should choose to be pleased that I am in half the numbers. I guess it's a classic Cosmopolitan is half-full or half-empty kind of scenario. But I know that I could have been in more numbers if I wasn't such a stress case the last couple of weeks and blowing my lines all the time. I guess the only thing to do now is buck up and try to be the best I can be.

Not that anyone is going to see it. First of all, I don't fully understand the ticketing system. Second, the part that I do understand sounds so complicated that I can't imagine even David is going to brave it. Getting a ticket involves driving to a 7-11 about 50 miles from here and giving the secret password to the guy behind the counter, who will staple the tail of a rare North American Red Fox to a fake ticket, which must then be exchanged for a real ticket at the box office on the night of the show. I really wish I were kidding. So if you have any inclination to come see me, please let me know now, as we will need to secure your Fish and Game license.