Parties for Good Causes

The last two weekends, I've been invited to parties with ulterior motives for goodness, and both of them have inspired me to be a little less selfish in my celebration.

Two weekends ago, a close family friend had a birthday party. She throws a big shindig every year for her girlfriends, and this is the first year that I've been able to join along. She's very socially and politically conscious, and tries to add an educational component to each of her parties. This year, before the festivities really got underway, she invited her OB/GYN to come down and give everyone a little talk on how to detect and prevent breast cancer. Before I knew it, I was sitting in a basement surrounded by middle aged women learning the correct way to administer a self breast exam. When I thought about it that way, I'll admit I was more than a little weirded out. But once I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I realized how selfless that act really was. That my friend wanted to celebrate her birthday by getting the people who matter to her together and teach them life-saving skills.

Just when I thought that I was done with the do-gooding, I was invited to attend a party last week to benefit a campaign at the Maestro's main gig. I love a party just like the next girl, but occasionally I do start feeling like being the Maestro's arm candy is my third full-time job. This party was different, though. One of the Maestro's co-workers actually opened up her home to have a cocktail party for a worthy cause. This isn't the first time that she's done it either. She threw a huge fête for her 50th and requested that all of her guests give money in her honor to the annual fund of their organization.

I don't think that I've ever been that unselfish in my life. Every November I get annoyed by all of the commercialism surrounding the secular Christmas that we celebrate in this country and flirt with the idea of giving alternative gifts to my friends and family. Who knows... maybe this year I flirt a little harder with the idea because of these two awesome ladies.

I do still exist... really!

I know I've been MIA. I kind of apologized after all, remember? Well it wasn't really a proper apology, but I have still felt bad nonetheless and missed all of my bloggy friends.

I'll be brief because I'm in the midst of tech week, but here are a few updates:
1. We still don't know who gave us the flowers at the office, but we've narrowed it down to the two newest members of our office staff. One's an older man and one's a middle-aged woman. My bet is on the woman, but everyone in the office has a different opinion.

2. The Maestro informed me that apparently the beer that I won at auction is completed! I named it from a suggestion that was left in the comments, and I should be having a beer tasting party Chez Downbeats within the next couple of weeks. After it's unveiled at the party, I'll let you all know how it went here.

3. I'm taking part in an exchange of stuff that is aptly named the Traveling Bloggy Box of Goodness that this cool chica named Kristin thought up. When I get my box, I can promise you a super exciting post about all of that specialness.

4. I haven't updated you on my home improvement exploits as of late, but I can tell you proudly and with certainty that my house is still clean and pretty. I've entertained friends from work at girlfriends for wine and crackers more than once in the past few months. That in itself is a small victory. I got a new sliding glass door for the door going out to the balcony. It's very pretty, but I must insist that none of you ever use Home Depot to get anything installed in your house ever. Love the door, hated the service. I killed 2.5 of the 4 plants that I got in July. One of the azaleas I think just hated its placement in the sun. The large elephant-eared greens I bought are probably just dying off with the colder weather. Still, my balcony was less than pretty, so when Mama Downbeats was in town the week before last, she bought some gorgeous mums to put in my Chinese goldfish pots. I'll take some pictures and show you later.

5. Finally, I'm in tech... as I've probably mentioned ad nauseum. As a result, I am completely incapable of concentrating on anything other than breathing and putting a quality show up on stage. While this process has been relatively drama free, it's still been pretty high pressure and stressful. It's gonna be a great show, though... probably one of my proudest since I started music directing a few years back.

But there's what I've been up to. Tell me, what's been going on in your lives? Anything new and exciting?

iPhone Flick

I loves me some babies in the thee-yater. Soooo cute. And his presence
kept me from committing homicide. Babies save lives, ladies and gents.

iPhone Flick

I'm going cross-eyed looking at this.

Does this make me a capitalist?

I know, I know... I'm imagining all of your disappointed little faces right now. The pre-tech week stress is upon me and I have neither had the time to write nor to really keep up with my favorite blogs in my Google reader. I trust that you all will forgive me... especially after we put on a production of A Chorus Line that's the bomb-diggity.

...I can't believe I just said "bomb-diggity."

Moving right along, I am sharing a cool little opportunity for any women out there who love either free things and/or handbags. There's this new site that's launching in a few weeks called Handbag Planet. To celebrate, they're giving away 24 free handbags: one every hour on their launch date. All you have to do is go to their homepage and give them your e-mail address. You don't even have to pay for shipping if you win. And the more girlfriends (or bag-loving-boyfriends, whatever the case may be) that you tell, the more chances you have to win.

So what are you waiting for? Go to Handbag Planet and fight me for a free bag. I double dog dare you.

While we're on the topic of October 15, don't forget what else is happening that day.

And now I return you to your regular programming of me being silent on the internetz until my show opens. I'll be back... I promise. If you're looking for something to read in my absence, might I suggest Jamie over at Oh! How Lovely! Whilst stalking following her on Twitter, I was wisened to this whole free handbag business in the first place.

Wino... Thursday?

Ladies and gentlemen, first a note from your editor...
...yeah, at least I'm making an effort. This is the first time that I've attempted to blog on a regular basis while I'm knee-deep in a production. It would be simpler if I just showed up to rehearsal and played the piano and taught people to sing. It would be simpler if I didn't have a full time job during the day. It would be simpler if I didn't have house guests this week. Alas, none of these happens to be the state of my affairs, so you're getting Wino Wednesday a day late. Please accept my humblest of apologies.

And now, on to the libations....


Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

Sometimes I like wines that aren't made from grapes at all. A few years ago, I didn't even know that such a thing existed. Last Autumn, though, I was shopping for wine to bring to a soirée at the Maestro's house and happened completely accidentally across a bottle of Proshyan's Pomegranate Wine. It looked interesting, and it wasn't too expensive, so I picked it up. I figured that if it was half as good as the pomegranate juice you can get in grocery stores, that it wouldn't be a complete wash. The bottle boasts that it's a "semi-sweet red wine," so I really didn't know what to expect. When I got to the party, some of the other guests were intrigued, too, a friend convinced me to crack it open first. Let's just say that I should've bought at least two or three bottles for this crowd. We went through that bottle like someone was paying us to.

The wine definitely smells and tastes like fruit, but not like juice. It's smooth on the tongue, but not overly sweet or syrup-y. It's enough like a traditional wine that it's equally appropriate for pre-dinner cocktails, table wine, or a post-dinner treat. I recently picked up a bottle on my way to O's house in DC. They're the folks who introduced me to Ravenswood Zinfandel, so I wasn't sure if they'd think that the bottle screaming "POMEGRANATE" was too unrefined for their discerning palates. When we cracked the bottle open, however, O gave a resounding "MMMMMMMMM!!!!!!" after her first sip. And Troy, by no means a wine drinker, practically had the whole bottle to himself.



Proshyan's Pomegranate wine is a product of Armenia, but you can buy it pretty easily state-side (at least in Maryland, I've seen it in most wine shops... and I go to a lot of wine shops), but you can buy it online too right here. It reminds me of Autumn, and I'm a seasonally-minded person, so I don't really bring it out until September. They do, however, have a white pomegranate wine, too, that's supposedly not as "juicy" as white zinfandel. It can be served chilled. I haven't tried it, but if that's your thing, I would recommend it just based on the red version.

I hope you're enjoying whatever it is that you're sipping on these days!

Next up on the social balance game...

I'm going to just come out and say it. I have too many friends. I'm not saying that to toot my own horn or to make myself sound popular. In fact, my packed social calendar is probably detrimental to my closest relationships. It's certainly detrimental to my (at many times non-existent) relationship with my own family.

I'm a social pack rat. I meet people. We become fast friends. I try my darndest to stay in touch with them. But because there are so many people I consider friends, my time outside of the office and theatre is constantly spent trying to spend time with these people. Catching up on old times. Attempting to forge new memories. I make a rotation of people I need to see before the end of the calendar year, and I probably get to 60% of the list. With each passing year, people fall off of my social radar simply because I have no time to invest in a relationship with them, and I feel defeated.

And then there's the Maestro. When we started dating 3.5 years ago, we thought we had a lot of mutual friends. We were only half right. We had a lot of mutual friends, but we had a lot of people in our lives who weren't in that middle section of the Venn diagram. So now all of the Maestro's close friends are my close friends and vice versa. At least the friends who made it through tree-shaking eliminations, that is. So I went from having a few high school friends, and a few more college friends, and music friends, and theatre friends, and musical theatre friends to having to add to that the Maestro's friends. And then we got couple friends and I almost wanted to kill myself. And now that I've stepped back from the ledge, I still find myself ridiculously overwhelmed trying to fit them all in. I might get shot or condemned or whatever for saying this, but I think that being super social can actually be just as lonely as having no friends at all.

This weekend past was the last free weekend before the madness of promotional performances, community outreach, tech rehearsals, and performances for me. It happened to fall in line with the last free weekend before the Maestro's ever-expanding concert season starts. We had plans to go to Kent Island on Friday to visit some friends who are building a new house. If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember on Friday the saga of the 7.5 mile Bay Bridge backup (try saying that three times fast) that caused us to stay in Baltimore instead. We did find a new watering hole that excites me and accidentally bumped into good friends. That little accident scratched them off the list of people to spend QT with before Christmas.

After a four-hour rehearsal on Saturday, I had an evening scheduled to the minute intending to scratch a few more names off the list. I went from a birthday crab feast to dinner with a whole bunch of girls. At said dinner, when I explained why I wasn't particularly hungry but happy to be there nonetheless, one of my dinner companions remarked on how it sounded like I was trying to do too much and say yes to too many people.

Oh friend. How wrong you are! I spend most of my day saying "no" to people I love and care about. I turn down more invitations and proposals than you'll ever know. And still, my heart breaks from this attrition of good quality friends and professional contacts. I guess if I quit theatre or quit my job I could keep up with people better. But then I'd be poor and angry and unfulfilled, and that wouldn't do anyone any good.

So for now, I'll keep on trucking through my list of people to see. I'll try to not accept any applications for new friends. Unless they're bloggy friends, that is. I'm all up for some more of those (hint, hint: De-lurk and say hello some time! It'll brighten my day, I promise you). And next up on the social balance game? Maybe seeing some of my family before Thanksgiving. There's wishful thinking for you.

iPhone Flick

I've been a negligent blogger because I've been teaching these
delinquents how to sing in a straight line. Wino Wednesday should be
back next week if I haven't pulled my hair out by then.

Doing my part

If you're a blogger, you should follow the link and consider joining, too. Change starts with words, and bloggers sure have a lot of those. Wouldn't you agree? And don't forget to come back here on October 15 to see how poverty affects Baltimore and the rest of the world.

I was in the presence of Clair Huxtable, and all I got was this lousy blurry picture

Yes, indeed... that blurry picture is, indeed, Phylicia Rashad at a podium. How on Earth did I manage to get in her presence, you may ask? A few weeks back, a friend passed me the Kennedy Center magazine with a free concert circled. She asked me to pass it on to the Maestro thinking that he'd either like it or know people who would be interested. The concert was entitled the 105 Voices of History, and it was comprised of singers from all of the nation's HBCUs. It was like kismet because a day later, the Maestro got an e-mail from a friend who was intimately involved with the event inviting us to the VIP reception ahead of time. Yes, yes, my boyfriend is a big deal!

I generally hate driving into the Kennedy Center. They charge you $17 for concert parking, so I generally Metro in. The Maestro figured that we didn't want to Metro in our black-tie-optional fabulousness, so he sprung for parking. I'm so grateful that we went to the VIP reception. Since we did, we didn't have to wait in line for the free tickets. By the time we arrived at 4:15 pm, the line was seriously around the entire Center for people trying to get into the 6 pm concert. We went upstairs to the Terrace Restaurant and sipped wine and munched on really tiny appetizers while we rubbed elbows with choral directors. We were simultaneously subjected to a bunch speeches from people (mostly corporate sponsors) who helped the night happen.

With 20 minutes to spare, we were kind of famished and wound up running to the KC Cafe to grab a more substantial meal. I ate chicken fingers in my ball gown. This is a fact for which I am very proud. It's something I can cross off of my bucket list.



The concert was actually sung very well. Those 105 singers, I'm guessing, are mostly music majors. They sang music composed by dead white guys (Handel, Haydn, et al), music composed by black guys writing in the classical Western style, and spirituals and gospel songs. It would've been the perfect length if there wasn't so much talking in between. I'm not talking about the banter in between sets from Ms. Rashad. That was heavenly. I'm talking about all of the pomp and circumstance from all of the other people. I understand that it's necessary. Corporations donate money to the arts and they want to be recognized for it so that people go out and buy their stuff. It still made for a lengthy evening with no intermission.

We still left with smiles on our faces, as you can see.



Especially towards the end, the 105 Voices of History Choir sang some of my favorites. Especially this one with the composer at the harp:



I was really honored to be invited (even if it was at the Maestro's arm candy... that's practically my third job), and hope to go again next year. I'm sure by then, they will have ironed some of the kinks out. I look forward to hopefully going again next year. It sounds like they're going to make it an annual kind of thing.

The case of the mystery flower bandit

When I walked into work this morning, there was a vase of lillies, carnations, and baby's breath in a vase sitting outside of my closed office door. A few minutes later, upon walking around to the rest of the office, it came to me that all of the women in our office were given similar vases as well. No one who works in the office daily fessed up to giving us the flowers.

We all sat around speculating as to who they could possibly have come from. The only conclusion that we collectively came to was that they were from was a former employee who used to give people flowers from her garden unsolicited. She was a sweet woman, but a little... off. She left a few weeks ago, and we haven't really heard from her since.

Finally, one of my co-workers sent this e-mail out over the server:
Good morning everyone, I hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

This morning when we arrived at work, all of the ladies of [company name redacted because I don't want any crazies showing up and knocking down my office door] found beautiful flowers placed on their desk or in front of their office door.

We haven’t determined who the kind person is that decided to brighten up our morning with the flowers, so this email is a big THANK YOU to that person!

If you would like to come forward, that would be great to thank you in person. If not, just know it was a kind and surprising gesture!

Thank you.

She's a lot more diplomatic than I, because my interoffice e-mail would've looked a little like this:

To everyone--

WHERE DID THE FLOWERS COME FROM?! AT LEAST LEAVE A CARD SO THAT WE DON'T THINK WE'RE GETTING STALKED!

If it did come from one of you, though... um... thanks!

Love,

Downbeats

Once the e-mail went out, I almost instantaneously got a phone call from my direct supervisor (who ironically enough works remotely from home) inquiring about the flowers. She didn't know anything about it either, but suggested that it might be the owner or COO of our company. Once I put the bug in her mind that it might be this former employee, she started getting creeped out, too. I promised her I'd call as soon as we got to the bottom of it. Still, no one has come forward.

At any rate, I got the biggest bouqet of flowers, so I'll get shanked first if it really is a crazy nutjob.

I still have the mosquito bites to prove I was there...

I think I've mentioned it a few times in the last few entries, but a good friend (and sister of the Fourth of July groom) got married in an outdoor ceremony on Labor Day.

The ceremony was held outside at a church ampitheatre in picturesque Ellicott City, MD. It seriously couldn't have been a more beautiful day. In fact, I think that people should invite the Maestro and I to their outdoor weddings. We seem to bring good weather with us. The bride's siblings provided the special music during the ceremony on acoustic guitar.



The bride and groom appeared peaceful as they looked on.



The Labor Day bridegroom did two particularly unique things for their atypical wedding:

1. Instead of a guestbook that has the potential to sit on a shelf collecting dust for years to come, the couple asked guests to sign a platter commemorating their day. Every time they have friends over to their new house in North Carolina and pull out this platter, they'll be reminded of their wedding and the people in their lives who love them.



2. Instead of a traditional towering wedding cake, guests enjoyed cupcakes on a tower. I've seen cupcakes on Style network wedding shows recently that have incorporated cupcakes into their dessert scheme, but this still wound up coming off original nonetheless. Cupcakes were yellow with chocolate or white icing and chocolate with chocolate or white icing. When the Maestro asked me what kind of cupcake I wanted, I replied, "The whitest possible cupcake, please!" not realizing how ridiculous I sounded until the words came out of my mouth and several people left the room howling in laughter. The cupcake tower had a huge cupcake with a cake topper at the crest for the couple.



The couple didn't want any big wedding traditions at the reception. There was no garter or bouquet toss, no electric slide. We basically had a picnic on the lawn adjacent to the amptitheatre and the historic Hebron House mansion.

The couple left straight for their Disney honeymoon from the reception. We waited around outside with bottles of bubbles to send them on their way.



The Maestro and I were still smiling by the end of the evening.



I consider that a small victory.

Wino Wednesday

Wherein I pretend to know something about wine to justify my affinity for all things alcoholic

As I mentioned earlier, I spent this Labor Day weekend preparing for and attending my final summer wedding of 2008. I managed to not jump off a bridge, so I'm pretty sure I'll make it through the winter now as long as no one else decides to get married between now and, say, June 2009. When the bride and groom return from their honeymoon in the happiest place on Earth^(TM), they will be relocating to Southern Pines, North Carolina, where the groom recently took a new job. For their thank you gifts at the rehearsal dinner, they presented their wedding party and family with, among other things, some Carolina-indigenous libations. The Maestro played the music for the ceremony, and I coordinated the wedding, so the bride and groom were generous and threw us some bottles as well.

The poison this week? Pink Magnolia from Duplin Winery. Now, I'll tell you-- I don't generally drink anything pink. No white zinfandels or merlots, no French martinis or sex-on-the-beaches. I'm a red wine, craft beer, and Scotch-drinking lady. I've made fun of my own mother for drinking pink wine. A gift is a gift, though, and I had to imbibe. Let me tell you, the stuff is not half bad. If you buy straight from the winery, it's $7.49 a bottle, and you don't even feel like you're drinking Boone's Farm. This wine is sweet, with lots of berry overtones, but it lacks that acrid after taste that a lot of rose wines tend to have. Chilled, it's a really nice wine to sip on a hazy summer night. This self-professed unknowledgeable wine snob even recommends it if you're looking to try something that's not too wine-y or if you're entertaining guests who drink the pink.

The miracle of life

In the time that we've been friends and subsequently more than that, the Maestro has exposed me to many an experience I might not have had in life otherwise. He's predominately responsible for my love affair with Baltimore City, and he also introduced me to the Maryland State Fair a few years back.

I'm not particularly one for produce or livestock on a regular basis. I have, however, come to appreciate the fact that the fair comes around once a year and it's an excuse to eat fried dough and say goodbye-byes to summer. We went to the fair last Friday after work, and since it was raining like crazy, we grabbed dinner at The Still first with the family.

When the rain died down, we finally headed across the street to the fairground to see as much as we could in the time left. We checked out the produce and home arts. That was all fine and good. But then we grabbed some ice cream and headed to the Cow Palace, which is where the magic happens. They have this thing called the "Birthing Center" where they induce pregnant farm animals so that curious onlookers such as myself can observe a new life coming into the world.

This exact scenario played out as we entered the Birthing Center on Friday night. The men watched for a little bit, but then got distracted by piglets in a nearby pen. We all started losing our patience (cows can be in labor for a long time apparently), so we decided to browse the rest of the livestock while we were waiting for this heiffer to pop.

The Maestro found greatest interest with the pigs. He got super excited when he saw one particular pair of pigs sleeping in the same pen. He called them a 21st century couple.



By the time we got back to mama cow, two hooves were protruding from her backside. 30 minutes later, and there was a baby calf lying on ground of the pen with many a happy onlooker. I think they wound up calling the cute little bull calf "Travis."



I'm surprised PETA wasn't outside picketing the farmers for shipping this poor cow into the fair, inducing her labor, and then putting the birth on public display, but it was definitely a really unique experience. I don't think it's convinced me away from buying a cute little biracial baby off the black market and into pregnancy and childbirth on my own accord, but it was a unique experience nonetheless.